Breath of Winter, A (25 page)

Slowly, I turned toward Lailah. Without her direction, her corpse army would crumble and the Mimetidae guards would hold the advantage. Without Lailah, all those I loved would survive.

Framed that way, the solution was obvious. The second my thought formed, Lailah hissed at me.

She leapt onto the wall and shouted, “You are mine, my spawn, and you will obey me.”

My throat burned, the sigil setting fire to my nerves while she raged at me.

“Not yours.” My voice rasped. “Not yet.”

I lunged. My shoulder slammed into Lailah’s gut, knocking her from the ledge. Linking my arms around her waist, I trapped her frantic wings flush against her spine. Then we were falling.

Lailah’s shrill screams pierced my ears. Wind whistled through my hair, deafening me. I imagined someone called my name, but the top of the wall loomed too high above us now.

The other voice—Idra—laughed. Sensing my awareness, she said,
“Pity you chose this end.”

A flash of gold blinded my mind’s eye, reminding me of Lailah’s warning of gilded wings.

Whatever else she might have said strangled when Lailah elbowed the crown of my head. It bloody hurt, and I had no way to defend against her attack without risking my hold on her. If I let go for a second, she would spread her wings and stop her descent, leaving me to splatter alone on the icy ground rushing toward our backs. I held on tighter, digging my nails into her filmy wings.

Membranous tissue ripped, and her wails increased until my nose bled.

“You are not worthy,” she squealed, “to wear my mark.”

Plunging her claws into the sides of my throat, she ripped the sigil from my flesh.

Blood glistened on her hand. The sigil worked its pronged feet, trying to reattach to me.

My sight doubled. For an instant, I thought I saw a second set of wings… No. It couldn’t be.

Impossible.

Impact jarred my bones. Lailah smacked the wall with a crunch that snapped my elbow. Small hands hooked under my arms and held me dangling in the air as Lailah crumpled.

Forcing my head back, I stared up into the face of the most beautiful female I had ever seen.

My lips moved soundlessly.

“Save your strength,” she said, tugging me up her slender body, pinning me against her so that my chin rested atop her shoulder. “Henri won’t forgive me if I let you die. Hold on tight.”

Too weak to care that her delicate wings fanned my face, I let their hum lull me to sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

“Zuri.” Cool fingers brushed my cheek. “Can you hear me?”

Sound leaked from my ears. All I had heard while joined to Lailah oozed from my memory.

“Her pulse is steady,” a feminine voice remarked. “She is alive.”

“But will she wake?” Henri smoothed tickling hairs from my forehead.

Another voice joined their conversation. “She hears you.” A calloused finger poked the dead center of my forehead. “Look how her brow’s wrinkling. She’ll come to in a second, I’d wager.”

As much as I hated to prove Edan right, I forced my eyes open a crack. Henri’s worried face filled my vision. Blood smeared his cheek and yellow gunk spiked his hair in places, but there he was, eyes clear as they bored into mine. One edge of his lips twitched then lifted in a tight smile.

Since they were all together, Edan must have gone back for Henri.
Thank you for saving him.

“You had me worried.” Henri took my hand and kissed my knuckles, anchoring me to the moment.

I opened my mouth, but even the flex of my throat sent shocks of pain bursting through me.

“Don’t speak.” Henri squeezed my hand. “I have repaired the damage as best as I can until it’s safe to return to the laboratory. I could only afford to grab the basics when I escaped the bastille.”

I made an effort to nod that may or may not have succeeded.

“Now that she’s stabilized—” Edan looked to Henri, “—we have to move.”

“She can’t be moved,” the female said. “Surely even you can see that.”

His frown cut through me. “Can you carry her?”

The female flexed a wing. “The joint is damaged. I can barely support myself.”

Edan tapped her chin up with his finger. “All will be well. Henri will heal you.”

She cast him a halfhearted smile and nodded. “I know.”

Judging by the fact she wasn’t as disgusted as I would be in her place if Edan were to touch me, I guessed the beauty was his wife, Marne. Smoothing her bloodstained shirt, she noticed me staring openly at her. Her smile was gentle as she swept the long white-gold hair from her neck and exposed a knot of scar tissue as large as my fist. It disfigured the curve of her throat, but hers was a rare loveliness not even such a blemish could reduce. She eased past Henri to speak to me.

“Hello, Zuri.” She touched my knee, which was when I realized I was lying on a slab of ice.

I blinked at her, which she appeared to take as encouragement.

“I am what you are,” she said with palpable relief, as if being two of a kind was comfort. “I wanted to tell you that what the harbingers say about us isn’t true. We can live without our sigils. We aren’t dependent on them. We need not fear our makers’ wrath. We can reclaim our own identities.”

My confusion must have been obvious. Lailah had no time to tell me any such things.

“We’re too exposed here.” Edan paced. “Marne is too exposed here.”

Where we were, I couldn’t tell. From my position, all I saw was sky overhead and hovering faces as they leaned over me to smile or murmur assurances. I made special effort to track Edan.

“Is Lailah dead?” He asked Marne the question I had been wondering.

“She took a hard hit and fell. Whether she survived, I can’t say. I was otherwise occupied.”

Edan paused to assess me. “She would know.”

“No.” Marne touched his arm. “Let her be. As briefly as they were joined, she may not have linked fully with Lailah. If Zuri survives, after she recovers, then we’ll ask her what she knows.”

Henri glanced up at them. “She will recover.”

I might have believed Henri had his hands not shaken where they touched me.

“I’m sure she will,” Marne said softly.

“Ah.” Edan lifted his sword. “There’s Rhys now.”

“Go to him,” Marne urged. “He could use you by his side.”

“The only blade he knows for certain I can wield are those in my kitchen.” Edan studied his sword, and even I saw how well it fit in his hand. “My place is here. My loyalty is to you, not to him.”

“Henri is here.” She almost touched his hand. “We will be safe, as safe as anywhere.”

“I lost you once.” He shook his head. “I won’t risk you again. My place is here.”

She circled in front of him. “Edan, please—”

“Rhys can take care of himself,” Henri said. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but he is safest with the warriors he has trained for such an occasion. You are safer here, as is Edan.”

“If Lailah survived?” she challenged. “What if she leads her army even now?”

“Then we continue as we have been.” Henri sighed. “We can do no more than we have.”

“Their formations are scattering.” Edan had walked to a ledge, I think, and stood watching.

“More proof that Lailah is dead or incapacitated,” Henri soothed her. “She won’t take you to Idra. I won’t allow it. You are safe here. Edan and I will see to that. Now, pull him back for me.”

Marne went to him. “Don’t tell me I can’t stand there if your toes are curling over the edge.”

Chuckling, he tore his gaze from the battle. “You never used to be this bossy.”

Drawing herself taller, Marne said, “I never used to be half Necrita, either. Things change.”

“So they do,” he mused. “All right. I’ll pull my nose from the glass.”

They turned in unison and rejoined Henri, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me. He touched the edge of my jaw, frowning at what he saw. His lips flattened instead of saying what had occurred to him.

“Gods’ web.” Edan was staring toward the ledge. “The lines are shifting. Risers are headed this way.”

“We have to move her.” Marne spoke to Henri, but he was rubbing his face.

“If we move her,” he said very softly, as if afraid I might overhear, “she might die.”

“If we don’t,” Edan snarled, “she’s as good as dead already.”

Edan reached for me, and I wish I could have cringed.

“Don’t.” Henri’s voice had gone deadly quiet. “I will carry her. You take care of Marne.”

When Henri’s arms went under my knees, a twinge made me wince. It was the arm he slid under my head that made a half-scream razor its way free of my throat. He gathered me then lifted me.

The rest was blessed oblivion.

Chapter Fourteen

A coughing fit woke me. My throat was sorer than it had ever been, and my skin felt tight. I pushed myself upright and glanced around the bedroom I had been using since arriving in Erania.

For a full minute, I doubted my wispy memories were real. Maybe it all had been a dream.

Swallowing hurt, and I gulped hard to steady my nerves. Reaching up, I touched a bandage at my throat. I tensed, expecting agony to flare, but dull aches were my reward. I lowered my hand. Henri’s teas were no doubt the reason I could bear sitting up so soon. As before, all my pains were tolerable.

I flung the sheets aside in my haste to examine my cast.

Bending my knee confirmed this one had no treads. It was as standard as my first had been.

A sharp snort from the corner startled me. Ghedi sprawled in the chair, mouth open, snoring.

He looked well, healthy. His color was good and his breathing even. I hated to wake him.

“Does Henri—?” My voice cracked, dry from disuse, so I tried again. “Does he know—?” I set off a coughing fit that pulled at the sticky edges of the bandage at my neck.

Ghedi shot up, eyes wide, tipping his chair on its side in his haste to reach me.

“You’re awake.” He took my hand, kissed my palm, my cheek, my forehead. “Mercy be and thank the gods. Do you know who you are? Where you are? Who am I? How many fingers—?”

Coughing again into my fist, I croaked, “Water?”

“Water?” His expression turned panicked. “Yes. There was some. I saw the pitcher—here.”

He scrambled to a carafe and poured me a murky glass of fluid I decided was tea. It didn’t matter to me. I wanted to wet my throat and welcomed any relief Henri’s brews brought to me.

Instead of pressing the glass in my hand, Ghedi placed it at my lips.

I snatched the cup from him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you drink,” he said calmly.

“I’m fine.” I drank deeply, sighing as my parched throat was moistened.

“You aren’t fine,” he snapped. “You were in a coma for three weeks.”

“Three weeks.” The glass slid from my hand, and tea splattered us both. “
Three weeks?
”

“You had your throat ripped out by a harbinger. You should be grateful you’re alive. I am. I thought for sure this time you had managed to get yourself killed.” He tugged his shirt overhead, tossing it at me to dry my face. “What were you thinking, going with Lailah like that? Henri said you agreed to let her brand you with a living mark on your neck that would change you into a harbinger.”

“Are our brothers all safe?” I held my breath for his answer.

“Yes.” He scowled. “They’re all in their rooms.”

“Then you have your answer.”

He jabbed his finger at me. “You could have—”

“What could I have done? Malik had been captured. Kaleb and Tau were in the stables as far as anyone knew, which meant they were dead or captured too. Fynn was enthralled and Henri…” My chest tightened. “Where is he? Is he safe? What about Marne?” I even asked, “Is Edan safe?”

Ghedi gave me an odd look. “I don’t know a Marne. I’ve never met Edan. Henri is where he always is—in his laboratory. He’s been working on something or other since the risers attacked.”

I slumped against my pillows. “Part of me is certain I had the worst dream. The other part is convinced everything I almost remember happened. If you don’t know Marne or Edan… I don’t know how much I dreamed and how much is real.” I glanced at the cup in my hand. “How strong is this?” Too strong and it made my brain slosh. “Can I get a glass of water?”

“I don’t know anything about the tea except how much I’m supposed to give you.” He stood and reclaimed his shirt, tossing it over his shoulder. “I drank all the water. I’ll have to get more.”

I passed him my cup. “I would appreciate it.”

Ghedi hesitated at the door. “Are you safe to leave alone?”

“I think so.” I felt good, better than good. I felt alive.

“Don’t move,” he threatened, “or I’ll break your other leg.”

“I have no intentions of moving. I promise you that.” For once, I meant it.

Though he obviously doubted me, and who could blame him, he did go.