The pain would stop when he killed her. He was certain of it. The collar seemed to whisper to him, words he couldn’t understand but whose meaning he felt deep within his bones.
This girl’s heart belonged to Kol’s queen, and his agony would stop when he ripped it from her chest and returned it to the castle.
“What’s going on?” the girl asked. Her voice reminded Kol of another girl who’d held up her chin and tried to speak without trembling as she begged Kol not to leave her behind in their castle. Not to die.
Another girl . . . she seemed far away now. Lost to the cloudy memories of a life before the collar. A life Kol knew he needed to remember but could only access in bits and pieces.
“You need to tell me what happened. I can help you fix it.” The girl’s voice shook a little, but there was a confidence beneath it. A certainty that she could face Kol and survive.
She couldn’t.
No one could survive him. He was fire and blood and death. He was rage trapped in a human skin.
He reached for the knife tied against his belt.
The girl frowned and slowly inched her feet toward her body as if getting ready to leap to her feet.
The fury within him surged at the thought.
“Can you speak?” she asked, and this time all traces of fear had vanished from her voice.
The collar seemed to tighten and power poured out of it, searing his skin and adding more heat to the flames already raging inside him.
The knife fell from his fingers as he clutched his head with his hands and moaned. If he’d known the words to beg for his own death, he would’ve. His words, like his memories, felt trapped beyond the unending pain, beyond the shroud of smoke that had settled over his mind until only the whispers from the collar felt like truth.
He was a king. No, he was a killer. He was a brother.
He was fire, blood, and death.
And nothing would change until the girl in front of him was dead.
His head snapped up as the girl lunged to her feet. He locked eyes with her as his dragon heart beat fiercely. As he bared his teeth.
“Don’t.” She held up her hand like she could stop him. Like anything could stop him.
He clenched his fists as the fire in his chest spilled into his veins. Closing his eyes, he tried one last time to remember his reasons for not obeying the collar.
To remember himself.
“Run,” he whispered, his voice more dragon than human, though he already knew it was too late. If she ran, his dragon would chase her. Catch her.
Kill her.
And he’d be free.
“No,” the girl said.
He opened his eyes. Drew in a deep breath of evergreen, snow, and sweet burning wood. Felt the fire in his chest explode with a desperate need to hunt, punish, and destroy.
She shifted to the balls of her feet. Raised her hands as if to defend herself.
In one fluid movement, he scooped the knife off the forest floor and leaped forward.
Instantly, she sprinted toward him. He stretched out his hands to wrap around her neck and throw her to the ground, but then she was gone—somersaulting over him and racing toward the tree he’d been crouched beside.
He dug his heels into the ground and pivoted sharply, his dragon heart screaming for blood.
She scaled the tree in quick, graceful leaps, but by the time she was halfway up the trunk, he was already behind her. Grabbing her ankles. Flinging her toward the forest floor.
She did a front flip, tucked her head, and dove into a shoulder roll the moment her feet touched the ground.
Kol growled, his collar blazing, the pain wiping out every thought but one: kill his prey.
The girl was up and moving. She grabbed the knife he’d dropped as he scaled the tree and turned to face him.
He loosened his grip on the trunk and slid down it, ignoring the splinters that dug furrows into his bare hands and arms.
The girl flipped the blade around to face him and crouched, ready for his attack. “Just tell me what she did to you. Let me help you. No one has to get hurt.”
She was wrong. He was already hurting, and it wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
He lunged toward her, and she flipped to the side, narrowly avoiding his grasp; but this time, he was ready for her. Spinning to his left, he crashed into her, and they both went down.
She jerked her knees toward her chest, but he leaped on top of her and pinned her. She slashed wildly with the knife. Kol caught her wrist and twisted. She cried out in pain but refused to let go of the weapon.
He bent his face toward her and the fire inside him ignited into something blind. Feral.
Desperate.
Her heart. He just needed her heart, and then all this would stop.
He grabbed the knife by the blade, heedless of the metal’s bite against his skin, of the blood that poured out of his hand. Wrenching it out of her grasp, he raised it above his head and aimed for her heart.
“No!” She raised her hands, palms out, to cover her chest, and the knife ripped into the gloves she wore, leaving a long, jagged tear.
He shoved at her hands, determined to get them out of the way. Once he sliced into her, once he removed her heart, the unendurable agony inside him would stop.
Once he removed her heart. He blinked as the image of his queen pressing her hand against his own chest to tear his human heart free burned in his mind. That was where the pain had started. Not with the girl. With his queen.
Hadn’t it?
The collar whispered, the pain surged, and the memory was gone like it had never existed at all. He cried out in frustration.
“Wait.” The girl lifted her hands again. “Just wait for a moment. Let’s talk about this. Whatever you need, whatever is wrong, I can help.”
He glared at her—this girl, this little, insignificant prey who was keeping him a prisoner of the agony of the collar—and plunged the knife toward her chest.
She deflected it with a sharp blow to his wrist. Off balance, he plunged the knife into the ground beside her, barely missing her. He yanked the knife free, still keeping her pinned as she kicked and struggled.
He was fire, blood, and death.
She was prey.
His pain was about to be over.
The knife streaked toward her heart.
She turned and slammed her hands into his chest.
The bare skin of her palm beneath the tear in her glove touched the bare skin of his chest.
White light exploded out of her hand and arrowed into him. The knife fell from his hands. The fire in his chest quieted. And the pain—oh, thank the skies above, the pain became a muted hum he could almost ignore if he tried.
The girl’s eyes widened as the light found the empty space in his chest where rage existed instead of his human heart. Her magic felt like the comfort of a winter’s fire. Like the purity of a field of unbroken snow. She looked at him like she’d uncovered his truth, and he desperately wished he could ask her to share it with him.
“What has she done to you?”
He didn’t have the words to reply.
He suddenly realized that he was pinning her to the ground. That he’d hurt her wrist when he’d taken the knife from her.
That he’d treated her like prey.
Shame was a live coal lodged in his throat, heating his face and making it nearly impossible to meet her gaze.
What had he done?
I’m sorry. The words came to life in his mind, but his mouth could no longer form them.
She jerked as if he’d struck her, and her hand slipped from his chest. Instantly, the hurt crashed into him, and he doubled over as it stole his breath.
Pain. Nothing but unending agony and the terrible certainty that the only way he would ever be free was if he carved out her heart.
Please don’t. Her voice, soft and certain, filled his mind, lighting a path through the clouds that obscured his memories.
He lifted his fa
ce to stare at her.
Can you hear me? She looked at him as if expecting an answer. As if the fact that her voice was echoing inside his own head was completely normal.
He nodded slowly while his dragon’s heart pounded with rage and the collar whispered that she had to die.
She had to die.
Didn’t she?
Her hand pressed against his chest again. The pain abated, and warmth that had nothing to do with his dragon’s fire filled him again.
Better? she asked.
Yes. He thought the word and watched to see if she understood.
She held his gaze. What have you become?
He dropped his head. He was a predator. Fire, blood, and death. He didn’t have the words for it, but the truth was an image of her destruction blazing across his mind.
That’s not who you are. She slowly sat up to face him, her hand still pressed against his chest. You don’t really want to hurt me.
He didn’t. The clarity of her voice in his head felt like a beacon of safety. Like the only shore he still had left to stand upon.
Where are Jyn and Trugg?
The names felt familiar, but he couldn’t make them fit the fractured bits of memory that slipped past the curtain of smoke in his mind.
They’re your friends. A pretty girl with courage and attitude, and a boy who talks too much but who loves you enough to die for you. They would never have left you alone willingly.
He was alone. Imprisoned in his broken mind. Imprisoned by the collar that would flood him with pain, with whispers. As soon as she removed her hand, he would lose himself to it.
The collar is causing your pain? Causing you to hunt me? the girl asked.
Yes.
She must have bespelled it. She studied the collar without touching it. Our trick failed, and instead of letting your blood oath kill you, she found a way to force you to do her will anyway.
He couldn’t find her name, but the image of a delicate beauty with terrifying power filled his head, and the girl stiffened.
Irina.
Irina. He tried the word and found that it fit. That it matched the empty space inside his chest and the pain that spilled out of the collar.
She punished you. There was pain in her voice. Sorrow. But there was also anger, sharp as a blade and twice as strong. She figured out that we tried to trick her, and she punished you by taking your human heart. My magic can feel the space where your heart used to be. We have to get it back, Kol. It’s the only way to heal you.
There was no healing for him. He was fire, blood, and death.
She shook her head. If that was true, I’d be dead. You’re at war with yourself. I can feel it.
Yes. He met her gaze and willed her to see that no matter what he did after she removed her hand, in this moment, he understood that she wasn’t prey. That she mattered for reasons far greater than a way to stop his inner torment.
We’ll start by getting that thing off you.
His dragon heartbeat kicked hard against his chest, but he nodded.
Please. He watched her bite her lip as she tugged at the collar with the hand sheathed in the undamaged glove. Please.
The collar remained stubbornly in place.
“Lorelai?” A man’s voice cut through the morning air, and her hand slipped from his chest as she turned to face the sound.
Pain was an inferno blazing through his body. Fury was the force that kept him alive. And the terrible stinging power from the collar flooded him, begging for the girl’s beating heart in his hand.
“What is that boy doing back here without his shirt on? And where are his friends?” the man asked.
Kol whipped his head toward the man and roared, his fingers digging into the ground as he crouched beside the girl.
The girl who must die. Who must give her heart to him.
The girl who hadn’t run, but had tried to reach him.
To save him.
“Get away from her!” The man ran toward him, his hand reaching for his sword.
“Wait!” The girl said as she stretched her hand toward Kol’s chest.
The dragon inside him snarled in vicious triumph as her outstretched arms left her heart exposed.
Kol turned and threw himself away from the girl. Away from the knife.
Away from the temptation to destroy the one ray of hope he’d found since the pain began.
“Halt!” the man yelled. The cold rasp of a sword leaving its sheath scraped the air.
“No, wait! He doesn’t want to hurt me.”
But he did. He wanted it more than he had words to describe.
Come back. I can help you. Her voice filled his head, all comfort and beckoning light.
If he returned to her side, he’d kill her, and the pain would stop. But in the warmth that lingered where her touch had been, some part of him knew that the cost he’d pay for ending his agony was more than he could bear.
Kol turned his back and ran.
TWENTY-TWO
LORELAI STARED AFTER Kol’s retreating back, her magic searing her palms, her breath coming in gasps, before leaping to her feet.
He’d run away from her, even though he desperately wanted to kill her. Even though the punishment for disobeying Irina was destroying him. Lorelai could feel his agony increase with every step he took. The part of him that had survived Irina’s brutality was fighting to overpower his dragon heart, and he was paying for it with every razor-tipped breath, every fire-laced thought that burned from his mind into Lorelai’s.
She’d underestimated his strength. She’d accused him of being without honor, when the truth was that he was trying desperately to save his kingdom at the expense of himself.
Trying desperately to save her—a girl who meant nothing to him—at the expense of himself.
Lorelai tore off her gloves and moved to follow Kol, although even in his human form, he was much faster than she’d ever be, but Gabril blocked her path, his sword still out.
“What is going on?” he demanded.
Lorelai met his eyes, and her voice trembled as she said, “We failed to trick Irina. And instead of letting the blood oath kill him, Irina took Kol’s human heart and bespelled the collar around his neck to cause him incredible pain until he takes my heart back to her.”
A muscle in Gabril’s jaw clenched. “Without his human heart, he’s a predator through and through—one focused solely on you. I know this isn’t fair, I know the boy tried hard to act with honor, but we have to kill him. It’s an act of mercy for him, and it’s the only way to keep you safe.”
Lorelai lifted her chin. “No one else is going to die because of Irina. Including Kol.”
Die. Please. Kol’s thoughts burned against hers, though they felt distant, as if the bond they’d formed was tenuous, and the farther he ran, the harder it was to hear the words that slowly formed in the tormented chaos of his mind.
I’m not going to die. Lorelai snapped at him while she scanned the grove of hemlock trees that spread along the western edge of the Falkrains, searching for movement. For the broken king of Eldr who wanted so badly to kill her and yet was holding himself back.
Not . . . you. Me.
You’re not going to die either. Irina has taken enough from us both.
There was a flicker of gratitude from him before it was drowned out by a wash of agony that covered his thoughts in red and sent his dragon heart pounding.
“Are you listening to me?” Gabril demanded.
“I am now,” she said, but part of her was tethered to Kol, to the pain that screamed through him and the whispers that promised him he’d be better once he held her heart in his hand.
“Lorelai.” Gabril’s voice was gentle. “We can’t save the boy. He’s a predator now.”
Yes. Kol agreed.
“He’s not a predator. He’s at war with himself. That means—”
“You don’t know that. We can’t assume any part of the boy we met still exists.”
War . . . with
you. An image of her broken chest spilling blood onto the ground while Kol tore out her heart filled his mind.
Stop that. Focus on something constructive. You and I aren’t at war with each other, no matter what Irina wants.
“. . . have to do what needs to be done. You still aren’t listening to me. Lorelai—”
Run. No. Chase.
“Both of you be quiet! Let me think.” Lorelai whirled away from Gabril and began to pace.
“Both of us?” Gabril’s voice was dangerously quiet.
Lorelai’s cheeks heated. “I touched his chest with my bare hand and sent my magic into him. That’s how I could feel the space where his heart used to be. How I know that he’s at war with himself. There’s a bond now.” Because meeting Gabril’s eyes felt impossible at the moment, Lorelai looked up, past the crease where the mountain met the valley they were in, beyond the point where the hemlock grove bled into the evergreens that covered the western mountain, and focused on the enormous command outpost for the section of Irina’s army that was stationed in the north.
“And you’re talking to him?” Gabril’s voice rose.
“It would be rude to ignore him. Especially when he can’t use his voice—”
“Because he’s nothing but dragon!”
Dragon. Kol’s voice was a snarl of rage and hunger.
You’re more than a dragon. You’re the king of Eldr. I’m the rightful queen of Ravenspire. And we aren’t at war—
War. The hunger in his voice was a vast, violent longing that swept over Lorelai’s mind in vicious waves.
She scowled at the trees, though she could no longer see him. You listen to me, Kolvanismir Arsenyevnek. We are not at war with each other. Your collar is telling you lies. I’m telling you the truth, and you need to listen to me because I can help you.
There was a long silence, punctuated by images of agony and struggle, and then he whispered, Help.
“What if he shifts? If he gives into his dragon completely, we’re in serious trouble,” Gabril said.
Why didn’t you come after me as a dragon? Lorelai asked, and then mentally kicked herself. Putting that idea into Kol’s broken mind wasn’t one of her smarter moves.
She glanced at the tight line of Gabril’s mouth and decided that he never had to know.
The Shadow Queen (Ravenspire) Page 17