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The pain piercing Basil’s heart spread through his chest, through his veins, like corrosive acid, until everything, everything hurt. His arms trembled as he held the bow and arrow still trained on Calâr, though he looked at Isa. “Why? Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Basil…” Tears trailed down her cheeks, her face contorted. “I didn't want to spoil what we had. I know I'm going to die. I can’t change it. You can’t change it. And I…I just wanted to enjoy you, wanted to enjoy what little time I have left…”
“And you kept this from me.”
Her chin quivered, her eyes liquid silver. “And what was I supposed to say? How should I have told you about the curse, and your mother, your father, about—” A sob visibly destroyed her. “I was ashamed. I was afraid of how you’d look at me, that I’d lose your love if you learned how I betrayed you—”
“You should have told me you’re going to die!”
She jerked as if he’d slapped her.
“What the fuck do I care about the things you had to do to survive—I fucking care about you not dying. I had a right to know I’d lose you!”
“I know,” she choked out. “I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry…”
A stealthy movement in the corner of his eye. Basil whipped back toward Calâr, who’d drawn a dagger out of nowhere, his face set in harsh lines. Basil raised his bow again—which he hadn’t been aware he was lowering—and pointed the arrow at the duplicitous male fae once more.
“You,” Basil growled. “Do not even dare to breathe. I’ll get to you in a minute.”
Calâr narrowed his eyes but stayed where he was, both hands half-raised, his right one holding the dagger in a non-aggressive way. Basil ground his teeth, his blood on fire with too many poisonous emotions he didn’t even have a name for.
Isa’s strangled cry startled him. His attention shot to her, and his stomach dropped. She was doubled over, jerking. No. Another seizure?
Symptoms of her death curse progressing…
His heart froze, along with the blood in his veins. His chest knotted, locked in his breath.
Isa convulsed and collapsed on the ground. Without thinking, on instinct, Basil lowered his weapon and rushed forward. The same instant, Calâr jumped to the side in a lightning-quick move, grabbed Isa off the ground and hauled her up in front of him, the blade of his gleaming sharp dagger held under her chin.
“Stop right there, or I'll cut her throat.”
Basil stumbled to a stop, his heart racing.
“She’s convulsing heavily, and shaking hard, and I’m doing my best to keep her still, but if you take one more step toward me, my hand might just slip.”
Reflexively, Basil raised his bow again.
“Uh-uh.” Calâr increased the pressure of the blade until it nicked her skin, and a rivulet of blood trickled down her throat. “Lay down your weapons. Now.”
Gritting his teeth, Basil lowered his bow, relaxed the arrow, and laid both on the ground.
“All of your weapons.”
With a curse, he complied. One dagger after another clattered on the growing pile in front of him, until he was done, and held up his hands, palms outward.
Calâr sneered. “Good. Do what I say, and I won’t harm her. If you come along and trigger your true name revelation, I will hand her over to you, unspoiled.”
Basil fisted his hands. His muscles tensed with the instinct, with the urgent need to lunge at Calâr and free Isa from his grasp. But he knew, he fucking knew he wouldn’t be quick enough. Calâr would slit her throat before Basil ever reached him.
A keening cry floated down from the breeze, followed by the flap of wings. Basil looked up, as did Calâr, and the next second a bird of prey shot out of the stretch of sky between the trees lining the forest path.
Kîna.
Claws outstretched, the hawk launched herself at Calâr. He ducked his head and lost his grip on Isa, who slumped to the ground.
Now.
Basil grabbed a dagger from the pile and ran toward the other fae. Calâr had shaken off Kîna, but she came back at him immediately in a quick flight maneuver, distracting Calâr while Basil charged him.
