Page 96 of By the Flames of Her Fury

His nose brushed the edge of mine. My heart pounded, blood rushing through my ears. Part of me knew this felt wrong, and that I should bolt. But was that just me running away like I always did?

His forehead fell to mine. “Vera,” he exhaled. I closed my eyes and forced myself to stay. For a moment, I leaned in. I let myself breathe. It had been so long since I let someone else comfort me.

But when Starke’s lips grazed mine, it was another man’s kiss I yearned for.

“Starke,” I whispered, putting a hand on his chest. “I—I can’t.”

He pulled away, and his face fell. “Vera⁠—”

“I’m sorry,” I rushed out. “I didn’t mean to, I just—my life is such a mess. I’m a mess. And I—I don’t want to do this, only to hurt you later.”

Rejection flickered across his expression. “I thought—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “I thought maybe you had changed your mind about us.”

A wave of guilt flooded me. “I’m so sorry. Please, Starke, I⁠—”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Vera. You never promised me anything.” He stood abruptly. “But it…it feels like you keep reaching for me when you’re drowning, then pushing me away when you can breathe again. And I may not always be here for you to grab on to.”

My chest caved in as he walked toward the door, tears burning behind my eyes. Why couldn’t I do anything right? Why did I keep hurting people?

Just as Starke gripped the handle, the door to my room sprang open, and Starke jumped back. Maeve’s stricken expression erased any other thought.

“It’s Odessa,” she said, panting. “You must come quickly.”

45

Vera

Starke and I sprinted down the hall. The others poked their heads out of their rooms at the sound. “Odessa,” was all I said. They all darted out and rushed after us.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Maeve as we ran.

“The infection. We tried to ease her pain, but it’s spreading faster than we anticipated.”

We veered down several corridors until we came to the same healer’s wing from before. I skidded to a halt and shoved through the door, frantically looking for her familiar face.

Odessa lay on a cot against the wall, sweat dripping down her forehead. The healer, Arcadia, and Julius knelt beside the bed, hands hovering over her. I heard their whispered spells, one after another.

“What are they doing to her?” Kieran snarled, lunging forward.

Maeve put out a hand, and a wall of shadows blocked him. “They are helping her. Look at her arm.” Her shadows dissipated, and we all crept closer. The small slivers of bone that had appeared in the High Elders’ study were now thicker sections of solid bone, expanding in a line past the cuts. They looked eerily like the skeletal beings we fought. As the other three continued their spells, the line faltered, as if something was stopping it.

“Their spells,” I murmured. “They’re blocking the infection from spreading.”

Maeve nodded. “But they cannot hold this forever.”

“I thought you said we had forty-eight hours,” I insisted.

“We have never experienced a human with the infection,” she explained. “Perhaps it’s not the same for them.”

My mind spun. “What if I can’t raise the kingdom before it takes her?”

Everett appeared at my side. “This infection is magical, right?” he asked Maeve, and she nodded. “What if there was a way to suppress its magic? Not just hold it off, but make it go dormant.”

I nodded, catching on. “Like in the cells. What Mortep used to take away our magic.”

Maeve shook her head. “I don’t know of anything that can remove magic. But I…I…” She put a finger to her lips and looked off into the distance, eyes glassy. “I wonder,” she murmured.

I gripped her shoulder. “You wonder what?”