Page 72 of May: Bloom & Bane

The guilt and confusion on Eden’s face make the jealousy in my gut twist tighter. She went to him willingly. And I can’t be angry at her for it, because that’s who she is.

But gods, it hurts.

“Seal the bond,” War says. “Claim her fully and let the curse move forward. We will have no reason to ever come back.”

“But if you don’t—” Death finally speaks. “We will keep waiting, and the next time we find an opening⁠—”

“It won’t be just a few drops of blood,” Pestilence finishes.

I go deathly still. “Did you just threaten to kill my mate?”

Let me out, Sage. Let me out. Let me out. LET ME OUT! Ashán’s voice tears through my head.

“Brothers.” Famine’s voice rattles. He glances at Eden’s wrist. “Enough.”

“Rasen,” Pestilence starts.

“I said enough.”

His dark eyes find mine.

“She helped me,” he says, each word enunciated as if he’s spending something he doesn’t have much of. “Without being asked. Without being compelled. She knew what I was, and she chose to help anyway.”

His jaw tightens, fangs lengthening past his chin, and I realize he could have bitten Eden in half had hurting her ever been his true intention.

A circle of absolute nothingness begins to spread from his knees.

He looks toward his brothers.

“If you intend to touch her—” The single obsidian iris in each of his eyes splits. Two pupils now sit in each socket. They move independently: one locked on War’s throat, another tracking Pestilence’s shadow, a third studying Death’s horse, the last on me. “—I will not fight you. I will consume you.”

Pestilence takes a step back.

I finally understand why the world fears Famine more than any other Horseman. You can fight a war. You can cure pestilence. You can even bargain with death.

But you cannot feed the nothing.

CHAPTER 24

he stayed

—EDEN

Afew drops of my blood, and he just threatened his brothers’ lives.

Silence hangs in the meadow, color draining from the world around us, vibrant green grass turning sickly gray before being sucked into the void.

War is the first to move, his armor creaking. He inclines his helmet to Rasen. “We overstepped,” he says quietly. “Forgive us, brother.”

Pestilence’s beak tilts, studying the circle still spreading from Rasen’s knees. “We only wanted⁠—”

“I know what you wanted,” Rasen rasps. “But not like this. Not by threatening her.”

Death doesn’t bother to say anything, turning on his horse and fading back into the mist.

The other two follow behind him.

The circle around Rasen slowly bleeds back into the natural green of the meadow as he pulls the void back into himself. His fangs retract, but the smear of my blood on the corner of his mouth is like a neon sign flashing in the dull morning.