Railesza hisses, and I glare at her. I move closer, behind one of the tall trees, my arm brushing against the smooth bark. Where did the door take me? The bark of this tree is thin and black—trees like these don’t grow in Bale.
“We need more relics,” whispers the woman.
“I need more time,” Corvi answers, shifting her weight. I move. Railesza hisses again, and this time Raiku joins her. Could Sierra have been right? What if Corvi is a fraud? What if Olivia never had a sister, and this stranger is the one behind the three deaths? It would make sense, especially that she refused to give me information about Beau. She claims to be a whisperer, but she’s not spoken to a single ghost when the Poisoned Stairwell crawls with them.
Raiku hisses, and this time, the sound fills the area. The poacher lifts her head straight at me. My hand reaches for the dagger strapped to my boot. She’s not getting out of here alive. In fact, neither of them is. The poacher steps forward, baring her teeth. Her hands are no longer hands, but claws.
I don’t think. I throw.
Between my blinks, the trees are gone, the clearing nonexistent. I stand in a vacant room with no windows and a single door.
“Bloody saints, Archyr. You’re an idiot.” Corvi’s voice brings me back. She lies on the floor, hands pressed to her abdomen, around my dagger. Blood trickles from her side to the tile.
I shake my head, pressing my eyelids together. I threw my dagger at the poacher. Did Corvi step in front of her?
As if she can hear my brain struggle to piece together what happened, she interrupts my thoughts. “I can’t believe this,” she grunts as she tries to move. Railesza hisses at me. She’s right, she shouldn’t move with a dagger in her abdomen. “Why are you standing there like a statue? Help me.”
Railesza springs off my arm before my legs move. Perched on my finger, Raiku watches as she wraps herself around Corvi’s arm, then he glances at me, shaking his head before coiling around my wrist.
My steps are measured as I approach her. Railesza’s healing won’t help until the dagger is pulled out. I kneel next to her, and my green aspier glares at me. “You were speaking to a poacher… I didn’t mean—”
“Swallow your excuses,” she snaps, but her words are pained. The copper scent of blood mars the faint smell of roses on a rainy morning. If I don’t heal her soon, she will pass out, and I don’t want to deal with the wrath of Parrish when she learns I stabbed her new protégé. “You’re a Gorhail-trained mage, for Death’s sake. What happens behind the Doors of Desire isn’t real…” Her words falter, and her breath slows.
Realization smacks me in the face. It was all an illusion: the door showed me what I wanted to see. This is why my aspiers were hissing; they can’t break through illusions. I should’ve known something was off, should’ve paid attention to the details, to the smooth tree bark, to the forest humming the song of the wind when a poacher is around. But instead, I stabbed her.
“You might not care if I live or die, Archyr, but…” She pauses, catching her breath. “Olivia… I can’t miss her funeral. It’s the last time I’ll see her.”
I swallow, my thoughts empty. Pull the dagger out, I tell myself. Then Railesza will heal the wound. Without a second thought, my hand hovers over her abdomen, but her groan stops me.
“I will bleed out if you…” she manages to say. “Take me to a healer.”
I frown. Iama healer, but she wouldn’t know that, would she? Of course they didn’t tell her who healed her; it would go against every single lie Mortemagi love to spread about Aspieri.
“Trust me,” I try, realizing how ridiculous I sound. Why should she trust me after I just threw a dagger at her?
“Just let… me… die,” she breathes out, before her eyes close. Even on the brink of death, her wounded pride takes over her reason. Or perhaps it’s the delusion from losing so much blood. Railesza hisses, and I come to my senses. She cannot die—we won’t find Beau’s body nor his killer without her.
My left hand lightly presses on her abdomen, and my right hand wraps around the hilt of my dagger. Once I pull it out, Railesza will have minutes to save her. My aspier’s fangs hover over the veins of her arm. I blow out a breath; I’ve done this on the field before, so why am I hesitating? Railesza hisses at me once more.
In a single motion, I pull out the dagger, and her fangs sink into Corvi’s veins.
My hand slides over the wound, and I gently press on it, her blood coating my fingers. My aspier is calm, her breathing in sync with Corvi’s. “What am I to do with you?” I whisper as my right hand reaches to stroke Railesza’s head. They say aspiers mirror their mage, but Railesza isn’t me at all. She has Dad’s golden heart.
My aspier will heal her, but I doubt she’ll want to help us after this.
Moments later, Corvi stirs, and her blood dries underneath my hand. Her eyes slowly peel open. The moment she sees me, her pupils widen. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
Railesza unhooks her fangs from Viola’s arm, slithers back to mine, and coils herself back to sleep. “A thank-you would suffice,” I mutter, pulling away from her. Corvi’s gaze lingers on Railesza for a moment.
“It wasyou,” she trails. “You healed me that first night.” She pushes up on her elbows and winces in pain. I don’t think, and my arm reaches behind her back to help her up. Her face is inches away, her eyes locked on mine, her breath frozen.
She wasn’t expecting this.
Neither was I.
“It was me.” I don’t look away. I can’t. This bond has me under a spell that will get me killed if I don’t break it.
Her eyebrows twitch, and her lips part in a gasp. “Why?”