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Time. Stops.
Blood stops pouring out of the table. The faucet shuts off.
Our miracle.
We look up. Through the infinite depths of the sea to lighter cerulean. Then baby blue sky. Higher. The air is thin and empty and tasteless.
Here stands the guardian for all time. All Seeing. Never Sleeping.
We will the sphinx’s golden eyes to See us.
We look at Basilia Gorgos, bloody knife in hand. Vicious glee glints in her brown eyes. Eyes that aren’t Basilia’s.
Now See her, mighty sphinx.
See who she really is.
We peel away the mask of Basilia Gorgos. We peel away the mask of Leonie Delafosse.
A blank face stares back at us. At him.
Sekh roared. “The Dauphine!”
51
SEKH
Come in like a fucking lamb, she said. When she was trapped inside with the fucking Dauphine and the Mother’s table bled like the foundation of the world had burst open.
Fuck that shit.
At least Thierry had been able to stop time. Everyone was frozen but us—the ones who carried Isador blood.
:It won’t last long,: Lew warned. :In his prime, he could hold time for ten minutes, tops. I don’t know how much he has left.:
A minute longer was all I’d need.
I shoved harder, burrowing the scarab up toward the surface. Crack open the coral. Flood this chamber. Leviathan or Okeanos would be able to get her out. The rest of us…
:If one of us dies, she dies,: Rik ground out. :You can’t risk it.:
Xin howled, a high-pitched resonance almost beyond my hearing. His fur rippled in the red glow of the table, shifting colors. Red to the eerie blue bioluminescence to a burst of white that seared my eyes and then faded to nothing.
:I’m in.:
Crouching lower, he launched himself, his legs springing his body forward. Flying over our queen. The table. Straight at the queen who stood frozen, arm raised. The bloody knife moved. Her arm jerked.
Thierry’s fingers slipped, his failing body shuddering with effort.
:Hold, Thierry,: Lew strained in the bond, as if by will alone he could help his friend. :Just a little longer. Our queen needs your miracle.:
Xin’s jaws closed around the Dauphine’s throat. He slowly fell to the side, pulling her down with him. Her body flopped like a rag doll in his grip. He surged again, leaping toward us. Eyes burning red in the table’s glow. Dragging the queen out of her own fucking blood circle.
Thierry’s arm slipped to the floor, and he lay face down, unmoving.
The dull roar of blood pouring from the table filled the chamber. The Dauphine’s arm slammed the knife into the wolf’s flank. Again and again, her scream of rage rose to a shriek that rattled the weakened walls. Glass tinged. Splintering worse.
The wolf crashed to the floor and rolled, flinging the queen toward us.
