by Cayla Keenan
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
It didn’t matter. Om’s mother had to live. She had to.
“I don’t care,” Jayin said, pulling off her glove and taking his hand. Pain exploded through her skull and auras burst into physical existence. Without hesitating, Jayin tore the Kaddahn soldiers apart. She only had one shot at this and she didn’t know how much longer her strength would last.
“Don’t let go,” Jayin ordered. The pain of his touch was the only thing keeping her awake, and she didn’t want to know what would happen if she lost consciousness. She clenched her fist and the soldiers around Rahael collapsed, boneless. Dead.
It wasn’t enough. Energy flickered in her second sight and Jayin’s stomach twisted.
“Where are you—?” Maddix asked as she dragged him with her. Jayin ignored him, blood pounding in her ears so loud that she couldn’t hear his words. Finally, finally, after stepping over half a dozen bodies, she found the owner of the strange signature.
“Khayald,” Jayin snarled, recognizing the half-hunched figure as a witch before the anger fizzled just as quickly as it had come. There was something wrong with him. He was broken, his skin hanging off of his bones and his eyes glassy and bright, sunk deep into their sockets.
“Kill them,” the witch rasped. “Kill me.”
Jayin couldn’t stop his weak aura from slipping past her ruined defenses. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. They’d had him captive for weeks, torturing him, experimenting on him, and finally using him to ferret out more sahir. Jayin pressed her hand to his chest, ignoring the pain that felt like it was breaking her ribs. She had to do something; she wasn’t going to let him die with his torturers. But something dark and evil had lodged behind his heart and Jayin couldn’t pry it free.
“Please,” the witch begged. “Please.”
“I’m sorry,” Jayin whispered. Still holding onto Maddix with one hand, she closed her fist on the witch’s energy, snuffing it out.
“Thank you,” the sahir breathed. His lips turned up into a terrible parody of a smile, and his heart managed one more stuttering beat before it lay still in his chest.
“Jayin,” Maddix started, but then she was screaming. Her magic burst out of her, brighter and more terrible than ever before, seeking out each and every Kaddahn in the compound. She marked them in her second sight, lost in the violent whirlwind of energy, and felt them die one by one. It wasn’t enough—it would never be enough.
The tunnels were silent and Maddix was still by her side when Rahael found them. Jayin knelt by the broken witch’s body, closing his eyes. He was innocent, and they’d turned him into an animal.
“Are you okay?” Jayin asked in a brittle, detached voice as she recognized Rahael’s aura.
“I’m fine,” Rahael said. Beside her, Om’s energy flared once and then disappeared. Somehow Jayin knew it was for good. “Who was he?”
“He led them to us,” Jayin said. I had to kill him, she thought desperately. I killed all of them.
“How?” Rahael breathed, and Jayin knew the question was for her. Rahael’s voice was awash with wonder and fear.
“I don’t know,” Jayin replied. It was the truth. She inhaled shakily, feeling like someone had reached into her chest and was squeezing her lungs with both hands. Her magic guttered like a candle in the wind and Jayin stood, Maddix’s hand still in her grip.
A flare of energy. A single soldier still alive.
“Maddix,” Jayin gasped, dropping his hand. As soon as she broke contact, the pain stopped, severing her last tether to consciousness. She hurled the last of her straightblades with all of her remaining strength, but not fast enough. The solider pulled the trigger the moment before the dagger struck between his eyes. She tried to move between Maddix and the arrow but she was too weak, too slow. Silver flared and blood dripped from her nose.
The world tilted as she fell. Black spots crowded her vision and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Voices washed over her but she couldn’t make out the words. She was moments away from fading altogether when someone shook her back into her body.
“Jayin, stay with me,” a familiar voice said. “Don’t fall asleep, okay? Don’t fall asleep.”
“Maddix,” Jayin exhaled. She couldn’t see him. The line between her two sights blurred.
“I’m here.”
“I’m here too.” His eyes were shiny and Jayin’s heart twisted to see the look on his face. “Are you hurt? Did they get you?”
“No, I’m okay. Stars, why did you do that?”
“I’m not losing you too.”
Maddix inhaled and Jayin could see his lip trembling. Slowly, she lifted her hand and cupped his face. The pain was muted and Jayin ignored it easily. He tried to move but Jayin shook her head. Maddix stilled. His eyes looked bluer than she’d ever seen them.
“I don’t regret you,” she said. Jayin knew she had to get the words out, had to make them count. Somehow she didn’t think there would be another chance. “You’re one of the good ones.”
“Hey, hey. No, stay with me,” Maddix said. He held her hand to his cheek, but she was already gone.
Chapter Thirty-One:
Maddix
The world had gone numb. Maddix couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t see anything, but Jayin’s prone body in his arms. He couldn’t even tell if she still had a pulse. He didn’t know if he had a pulse.
“Get away from me,” Maddix snarled as witches swarmed around them. They tried to speak to him, but Maddix couldn’t hear them over the blood roaring in his ears.
“Come with me,” Evin said, appearing out of the crowd. Maddix’s arms tightened around Jayin. She was so small, and even unconscious her face was tight with pain.
“Get off,” he shouted as the witch hauled him up.
“If you don’t let the healers help her, she’s dead for sure. Stop fighting.” Evin replied, hatefully calm. Maddix wanted to break his nose in the other direction.
“Maia!” Rahael shouted, somewhere behind him. Her voice was muted in Maddix’s ears. The blonde healer appeared out of the crowed, immediately barking orders. Maddix reluctantly released his grip, and two witches lifted Jayin onto a table. He wanted to stay, to make sure nothing else happened, but Evin hauled him away.
“What are you doing?” Maddix demanded but the witch didn’t stop until they were far down the tunnel. “What is wrong with you?” he said when Evin finally let him go.
“You don’t want to be there,” Evin said.
“Yes, I—”
“No, you don’t.”
“What do you care?” Maddix demanded, rounding on him with clenched fists. Evin had damn near strangled Jayin to death.
“I was wrong,” Evin spat. “Happy? I was wrong, and if not for her we’d all be dead. Now believe me, you do not—” His words were cut off by a scream from where they came. Maddix didn’t think, making as if to run towards the sound, but Evin held him back. Maddix had never wanted to kill someone more in his life.
“Dayri,” Evin said, condescension dripping from every syllable. “You cannot help her right now.”
Maddix dug his fingernails into his palms as another scream echoed down the tunnel.
“Here,” Evin said after the noise died down. He handed Maddix a rag. “You’ve got blood on your face.” Blood from the handprint, the one Jayin had given him. Maddix didn’t know if it was her blood or his. It didn’t matter.
“Bleeding stars,” Maddix swore, punching his fist into the wall. The skin over his knuckles split, leaving a bloody imprint on the stone.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the blonde healer came to find them. She looked terrible, pale and haggard, and to Maddix’s surprise, Evin swept her into a tight hug.
“Are you okay?” Evin asked quietly. The healer nodded.
“Jayin saved me. She hid me in her room and glamored the door to keep the soldiers away.” The healer turned to Maddix. “She’s asleep.”
“Is she g
oing to be alright?” Maddix couldn’t stifle the desperate edge in his voice.
“I don’t know,” the girl said miserably.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Maddix demanded, taking a step towards her. The girl flinched and a strong gust of wind blew Maddix backwards.
“Step off,” Evin growled. “She did everything she could.”
“That’s not good enough.” They had magic for sky’s sake; they should be able to do something.
“She was exhausted and hurt,” the healer said so quietly Maddix almost didn’t hear her. “She shouldn’t have been standing, let alone fighting. The others told me what she did, and I’ve never heard of anything like it. She was nearly out of magic; it should’ve been impossible.” Maia inhaled deeply. “Jayin’s strong. She’s going to make it through this.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him.
“But you don’t know that. She could be dying in there and you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do about it?”
“If you didn’t want her hurt, you shouldn’t have dragged her on your little suicide mission, Maddix Kell,” Evin said, his land still laid on Maia’s shoulder.
Maddix froze, all his anger leaving him in a rush, replaced by open-mouthed confusion.
“Yes, we know who you are. We’ve known since the beginning. The Aestosi Guard who went on a rampage.”
“You know who I am,” he repeated.
“A murderer and a convict, chased through your kingdom and into ours. Did you think we’re just hiding down here? Burying ourselves away from the world? I didn’t want to let you live, but Jayin vouched for you. Unlike the dayri, our word means something.”
“But you let us stay,” Maddix said.
“We let her stay,” Evin corrected. “And it’s a miracle she’s still breathing. She might survive this, but she will not survive you.” With one last poisonous glare, Evin tugged the blonde healer away.
Maddix watched them leave, feeling the spider web of cracks that had been collecting splinter all at once. He felt like he’d been poisoned, fear and guilt racing in time with his pulse. Dread had lived behind his heart for so long he’d almost forgotten it was there. Now he was choking on it.
Without realizing he was moving, Maddix found himself in the chamber with Jayin. The other witches barely noticed him, busy tending to their dead and wounded.
This could’ve been so much worse. The coven had been taken by surprise, outnumbered and trapped underground without an escape route. Every witch in the place should have been slaughtered and without Jayin’s intervention, they would have been. Maddix still didn’t know how she’d managed to knock the soldier’s arrow out of the air. It shouldn’t have been possible, but she’d done it; she’d saved him again.
“How’s she doing?” Maddix asked uselessly, walking up to Jayin’s sickbed. Rahael stood watch at her side. He knew the answer, but talking was better than the silence in his head.
“She’s stable,” Rahael replied. “She saved my life.”
“She saved all our lives,” Maddix said, trailing his fingers through Jayin’s short hair. It was longer than before, hanging further in her eyes. Maddix had never told her how much he liked it short. He should’ve told her.
“I think the debt’s paid,” Rahael said.
“Debt?”
“To my son,” Rahael explained.
“You’re Om’s mother,” he murmured. “Jayin told me about him. She blames herself for what happened.” Rahael’s eyes flashed, and Maddix could almost see her son’s fire within them.
“I know,” the sahir leader said. “She shouldn’t have used her magic to save me.” On that, they agreed. “If she wakes up—”
“When,” Maddix interrupted sharply. “She’s going to wake up.”
“When she wakes up,” Rahael amended. “I hope she’ll know she’s done right by both of us.”
“I was there.” Maddix didn’t know what possessed him to say the words, but they were out in the open before he could stop himself. “I was on the docks where he was killed.”
A year ago, Maddix wouldn’t have been able to imagine feeling guilt over the death of any witch, let alone one he didn’t know. But standing with Om’s mother, he felt at fault. He’d been there, he could’ve stopped it. He could’ve done something, but he’d been too blind. Too ignorant.
“I know,” Rahael said, with none of the rage Maddix expected. “We do not fear the sahirla like our brethren in Aestos, but we still know of them.”
“I’m not one of them,” Maddix said, echoing Jayin’s words from a few hours before. He didn’t know if they were true, but he still had to say it.
“Not anymore.” The silence that stretched between them was more deafening than the chaos of the battle. Maddix preferred battle. “She said she killed the man responsible.”
“She did,” Maddix replied, remembering how Jayin’s scream had rent the air and how she’d thrown the knife so hard, she nearly took off the hunter’s head. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t enough, not by half, but Maddix didn’t know what else to say.
“We trust our own,” Rahael said at last. “And she trusts you.”
And he’d damn near gotten her killed. He didn’t deserve her loyalty, her trust, none of it. That he knew for sure.
Then you know what you have to do.
Maddix took Jayin’s hand in his and brushed her hair out of her eyes with the other.
“Take care of her,” Maddix said. He heard the ring of finality in his own voice. Rahael nodded, understanding the unspoken words: don’t let her come after me.
“I’ll give you a moment.” Even when Rahael left, they weren’t alone, but Maddix didn’t care about the sahir around him. They may as well not have been there at all.
“I’m sorry,” Maddix whispered. Jayin still didn’t stir. The only sign of life was the faint, steady rise and fall of her chest. “I never should’ve brought you here. I should never have been on the docks that day.”
She could’ve gone to the Isles and been safe there, never knowing him nor being hurt by the sahirla. He wanted to say he wished they’d never met, but it would’ve been a lie.
Jayin had saved him; she’d taken him away from the witchhunters before they sank their claws in too deep. He could’ve so easily been one of them—hateful and brimming with misplaced anger and righteousness. He might have been too, if she hadn’t barreled into his life and saved him from a world of fanaticism and murder.
“I don’t regret you either,” he said, finally finding the words. “You’re going to wake up, and you’re going to find someplace safe, and you’re going to live.” He squeezed her hand. “You have to live.”
The thought of leaving her hurt like an ache in his chest, but he couldn’t bear to let her die with him. He’d done enough harm. Maddix squeezed Jayin’s hand again and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Jayin didn’t stir. Maddix straightened, burying the childish hope that she would wake and ask him to stay.
“We will take care of her. You are free to go.” Rahael said, reappearing behind him. Somehow, her words made the decision final.
“Do whatever you have to do to keep her here,” Maddix said. Jayin would want to come after him, she’d want to make sure he was okay even though it could get her killed. He couldn’t have that. “Whatever you have to do.”
There was only one stop to make, and his things had been ready to go since they’d gotten here. A witch was sent to escort him to the surface and they navigated the tunnels without passing by the main chamber again. Maddix was grateful. If he saw her, he would lose his nerve.
The stone door melted away at the witch’s touch. Maddix breathed in his first breath of fresh air in weeks, but it tasted stale, and Maddix found that he didn’t want to look skyward. The stars held nothing for him now.
Chapter Thirty-Two:
Jayin
The world was black, punctuated only by flashes of light and snippets of conve
rsation. Jayin tried to climb her way out, but the dark’s hold on her was unyielding. She didn’t know why it was so important to wake up. Jayin had no memories, only the unshakable sense that if she didn’t find her way to the light, something terrible would happen.
“Maddix,” Jayin breathed, everything flooding back to her the moment she pried her eyes open. The Kaddahn soldier had aimed at him, but then she’d collapsed. “Where’s Maddix?”
“Hey, you’re up,” a voice said, not unkindly. Jayin’s heart raced and she started to reach for one of her knives before someone pushed her back down. It didn’t matter anyhow. She’d been stripped of her weapons.
“Don’t try to move, okay? You’re in bad shape.”
Jayin ignored him, pushing herself up on her forearms and trying to force her eyes to focus. Her muscles were stiff, as if she’d been still for so long they’d begun to atrophy. She was still in the tunnels, that much was obvious, but they’d turned the main chamber into some kind of sickbay. All around her were witches in various stages of healing.
“Jayin,” Maia said, appearing by the table that had served as Jayin’s home for stars knew how long. “Oh, thank Horaj you’re awake.”
“How long have I been here?” Jayin said. Her voice was rough and scratchy. Maia handed her a cup of water instead of answering, but Jayin didn’t complain, drinking the whole thing in long, greedy gulps.
“You almost died,” Maia said when Jayin finished.
“I figured that bit out on my own.” From the way her body hurt, Jayin guessed that they’d had to scrape her off of death’s door. “What happened?”
“You saved us.”
Not all of them. Not Linji. Jayin hadn’t done a tally, but she’d seen enough sahir bodies to know that there were too many dead.
“They would’ve killed everyone,” Maia went on, oblivious to Jayin’s tumultuous thoughts.
“They killed enough.”
“No one would’ve survived. You saved us.”
Jayin wished she’d stop saying that. “Where’s Maddix?”