Fox swallowed.
“It will hurt,” she continued. “Your body is damaged beyond what any human body can endure. Eha may be able to heal you, but you will feel it. Perhaps for the rest of your life.”
Fox nodded, barely comprehending the words.
“I’ll do anything,” he said, his tears falling freely now. “What do you need from me?”
Quelia nudged her nose against his chest. “Just to keep fighting.”
She moved back, and Fox felt his stomach plummet.
“Before you send me back,” he said, swallowing, “can I speak to him? Can I see Leon?”
Quelia tilted her head, eyes sad. “I’m sorry, my child. We are in the waiting place. If I send you there—where he is—you cannot come back. I do not have the power to pull you back from there.”
He nodded. A part of him had known it would be the answer.
“Are you ready?”
“No.” He smiled. “But does that matter?”
Pain tore through his body,and he screamed.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
SOFIA
Fox’s eyes flew open, a scream tearing through the air. Sofia felt sick as his face twisted in agony. He tried to sit up, but Eha was still pressed against his chest.
“Shh, Pale One,”she said, her voice a soothing balm in Sofia’s mind. Fox’s scream cut off, but his body seized in a way that made Sofia taste bile. Her chest ached, and she realized Javi was holding her back, stopping her from racing forward.
After another minute of no one speaking, Eha stepped back, her movements sluggish. The ground shook as she slumped into the muddy snow a few feet away, eyes closed.
“Chalia?”Sofia asked, staring at the collapsed dragon.
“Eha’s okay,”Chalia said.“Just tired. But look.”
Chalia nudged her and Javi from behind, and Sofia turned. Fox was lying on the ground, his eyes closed, but his chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Javi finally let her go, and she scrambled forward on hands and knees, heedless of the mud and blood staining her pants. His eyes flew open as she got to him, silver and shining.
“Miss me, my captor?”
Sofia fell on top of him, grasping his face in her hands as she kissedhim, heedless of her tear-stained face. She tasted blood on his lips, but couldn’t be bothered to care. He kissed her back, his lips dry and warm. She pressed into him harder, as if he might disappear again if she let go. She couldn’t tell which of them was trembling.
He let out a pained groan, and she pulled herself back, hands fluttering over his body. The cut across his neck had healed, but the spider web of red scars was still painted across his skin.
“What hurts?” she asked, slightly frantic.
“Literally everything,” he said. “But probably not as much as it should.”
Sofia let out a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “No, probably not as much as it should. You died. You were dead.” She couldn’t stop the broken sob that tore through her at the words.
He reached for her, his hand soft against her cheek. He ran his fingers along her cheekbone and tangled them in her hair. She ached for the familiarity of his touch.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I think I’m alive. I don’t think death hurts this much. Gods, death better not hurt this much.”
Sofia held his face in her hands and watched as his face twisted into something.