“No,” I say with a hard shake of my head. “You stay here, and you stay with me. I need you. You have more to do.”
“You will be...fine without me. Take care... Deacon, Killian...and yourself...don’t forget yourself. The law.”
“Stop talking like we’re saying goodbye.” My tears fall faster. “Deacon,” I shout again, scanning the battlefield, seeing no faces I recognize. “Someone! Help Archer! He needs more Lifeblood.”
The battle continues to rage. I can no longer see the one raging between the spirits, and I wonder who is winning.
Archer’s smile slips a little, now both sad and eager. “Not much time...tell me poem. Happy. Rhyme.”
As my insides are ripped to shreds, I close my eyes. He isn’t going to make it, is he? My Lifeblood just isn’t strong enough. Maybe because I’m Unsigned. Maybe because I’m still recovering from my own injuries. Maybe because of a thousand other reasons. I might never know the truth, but one thing is suddenly clear: his death is because of choice. Pearl’s choice to fight me. My choice to save Killian and Sloan.
And now, Archer will pay the price. My decisions—my indecisions—have never affected me alone, as I so confidently told myself what seems a lifetime ago. They affect everyone I love, everyone in my life. Even those I will someday meet. Even those I will never meet.
I mocked Pearl’s pride, but look where my own brought me. Look where my own brought my friends.
The knowledge washes through me, horrifying me, utterly destroying me, but I fight past the overwhelming influx of regret and sorrow. For now. I have to. Archer needs me. This wonderful guy needs me to be strong for him, to ease him into the Rest. After everything he’s done for me, I can do this for him. I will do this for him.
I will mourn tomorrow.
“A poem. One just for you.” I smooth a shaky hand over his brow, like a mother soothing her child before bed. “Year after year I hated my life. No matter where I looked, I only saw strife. Oh, poor me, I had no one to live for...until you arrived and taught me to soar.”
His lashes flutter shut, the sadness vanishing from his smile, leaving only happiness. So much happiness, despite the battle raging around us. Thankfully, Troikans have taken up posts around the dais, preventing Myriadian soldiers from closing in. “More. Please.”
I continue. “You saved me from the worst kind of death, as if you breathed into me my very first breath. You, Archer Prince, oh, how you shine. Now and forever, you’ll always be mine. I’ll miss you, dear Bow, for the short time we’re apart.” My chin trembles as I say, “Take care of this gift...for I give you my heart. You are loved, I love you. Because of you, I’ve been made new.”
“Yesss,” he says again, the drawn out s tapering off as he expels his last breath.
His head lolls to the side, and his grip on me goes lax. I imagine his bright, bright glow fading completely.
He’s gone. He’s really gone.
I collapse onto his chest, sobs racking me. He deserved so much better than this.
“Ten,” Killian shouts, horror in his voice.
I straighten and turn to him. He’s sitting up, diving in front of me.
“No,” he cries, but it’s too late.
Something sharp cuts through his back, comes out his chest, enters mine and rips through my back, pinning us together. The pain is incredible, and it spreads through every cell in my body in seconds until I’m wholly consumed.
She stabs you in the back, Lina said.
I expected the attack to come from Pearl, but she’s dead. I gaze up in horror—and discover Sloan.
Tears glisten in her lashes. “I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry, but they offered me something I couldn’t refuse.”
The only thing she’d wanted was revenge against Vans, despite his death. Either Pearl lied to her or she has—had—a way to get to Vans, something Killian and Archer were unable to do.
“I hate him more than I love you. I’m sorry,” she repeats with a sob of her own.
A sense of betrayal nearly chokes me.
“Ten.” As Killian tries to pull himself from the spear, the motor hums, cutting at him, cutting at me, leaking poison. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
With a roar, he yanks backward, freeing himself from the spear. When he rights himself, he repeats, “I’m sorry,” then grabs on to the shaft and jerks with all his might.
I scream as blades cut, cut, cut at me. Finally, though, the spear leaves me.
As blood rushes up my throat and chokes me, I manage to turn my head and watch as Killian swings the spear. Blood-soaked metal glints from the shaft—as it slices through Sloan’s stomach. Her eyes go wide, and her knees collapse.
She’s not going to survive the day, either.
I want to hate her, but as one second ticks into another, I realize I’m just sad for her. Her decisions, like my own, brought her here.
Killian crawls to me. I’m panting and wheezing. The death rattle. This is it, isn’t it? The end. I’m going to die. I’m going to die today. Only minutes...seconds?...remain.
I once told my life story in a nutshell, but some of my numbers have changed.
Seventeen—the number of years I’ve lived. Existed is no longer a strong-enough word.
Two—the number of boys I’ve grown to adore since my escape from Prynne. Archer, the family I’ve craved for so long, and Killian, who took a shattered heart and put the pieces back together.
Three—the number of friends I’ve lost in my quest for the truth.
One—the number of lives I have left.
Three—the number of choices remaining for my eternal future.
“Ten, you won’t survive this.” There’s a tremor in Killian’s voice. “The poison...it’s in my system, too. My Lifeblood won’t help you.”
Baiser de la mort, the kiss of death, even now rushing through me.
He frames my face with his hands. He’s trembling.
“Go,” I manage. “Get...help...for...you.” Don’t die with me! I have a Secondlife. He doesn’t have a third.
“I was wrong about so many things.” He gives my lips a soft kiss. “The victor isn’t always adored and the failure isn’t always abhorred. I failed to sign you... I lost...and I’m glad for it. Sign with Troika, Ten. It’s where you belong.”
Another flood of tears streams down my cheeks. This boy hates losing, and yet he’s letting me go.
“We’ll be...enemies,” I whisper, my body going numb. “You’ll be...killed.”
“Better you’re my enemy and happy than my friend and miserable. And don’t worry about me, lass. They can try to kill me. They have before. I always come out okay.”
I won’t be happy while he’s trapped in Myriad, perhaps placed in the Kennel for good. But I won’t be happy in Myriad, even with this boy at my side.
Only one other option. I remain Unsigned and return to Many Ends...where I may or may not be able to save the spirits trapped inside. Without Archer, I never would have revived after the last visit.
Archer once asked me to trust him. He said we’d figure out a way into Many Ends, a way to save the spirits. And if I can get inside Many Ends, I can get inside Myriad. I can save Killian. Maybe he can go to court.
“You will be...fine without me. Take care... Deacon, Killian...and yourself...don’t forget yourself. The law.”
“Stop talking like we’re saying goodbye.” My tears fall faster. “Deacon,” I shout again, scanning the battlefield, seeing no faces I recognize. “Someone! Help Archer! He needs more Lifeblood.”
The battle continues to rage. I can no longer see the one raging between the spirits, and I wonder who is winning.
Archer’s smile slips a little, now both sad and eager. “Not much time...tell me poem. Happy. Rhyme.”
As my insides are ripped to shreds, I close my eyes. He isn’t going to make it, is he? My Lifeblood just isn’t strong enough. Maybe because I’m Unsigned. Maybe because I’m still recovering from my own injuries. Maybe because of a thousand other reasons. I might never know the truth, but one thing is suddenly clear: his death is because of choice. Pearl’s choice to fight me. My choice to save Killian and Sloan.
And now, Archer will pay the price. My decisions—my indecisions—have never affected me alone, as I so confidently told myself what seems a lifetime ago. They affect everyone I love, everyone in my life. Even those I will someday meet. Even those I will never meet.
I mocked Pearl’s pride, but look where my own brought me. Look where my own brought my friends.
The knowledge washes through me, horrifying me, utterly destroying me, but I fight past the overwhelming influx of regret and sorrow. For now. I have to. Archer needs me. This wonderful guy needs me to be strong for him, to ease him into the Rest. After everything he’s done for me, I can do this for him. I will do this for him.
I will mourn tomorrow.
“A poem. One just for you.” I smooth a shaky hand over his brow, like a mother soothing her child before bed. “Year after year I hated my life. No matter where I looked, I only saw strife. Oh, poor me, I had no one to live for...until you arrived and taught me to soar.”
His lashes flutter shut, the sadness vanishing from his smile, leaving only happiness. So much happiness, despite the battle raging around us. Thankfully, Troikans have taken up posts around the dais, preventing Myriadian soldiers from closing in. “More. Please.”
I continue. “You saved me from the worst kind of death, as if you breathed into me my very first breath. You, Archer Prince, oh, how you shine. Now and forever, you’ll always be mine. I’ll miss you, dear Bow, for the short time we’re apart.” My chin trembles as I say, “Take care of this gift...for I give you my heart. You are loved, I love you. Because of you, I’ve been made new.”
“Yesss,” he says again, the drawn out s tapering off as he expels his last breath.
His head lolls to the side, and his grip on me goes lax. I imagine his bright, bright glow fading completely.
He’s gone. He’s really gone.
I collapse onto his chest, sobs racking me. He deserved so much better than this.
“Ten,” Killian shouts, horror in his voice.
I straighten and turn to him. He’s sitting up, diving in front of me.
“No,” he cries, but it’s too late.
Something sharp cuts through his back, comes out his chest, enters mine and rips through my back, pinning us together. The pain is incredible, and it spreads through every cell in my body in seconds until I’m wholly consumed.
She stabs you in the back, Lina said.
I expected the attack to come from Pearl, but she’s dead. I gaze up in horror—and discover Sloan.
Tears glisten in her lashes. “I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry, but they offered me something I couldn’t refuse.”
The only thing she’d wanted was revenge against Vans, despite his death. Either Pearl lied to her or she has—had—a way to get to Vans, something Killian and Archer were unable to do.
“I hate him more than I love you. I’m sorry,” she repeats with a sob of her own.
A sense of betrayal nearly chokes me.
“Ten.” As Killian tries to pull himself from the spear, the motor hums, cutting at him, cutting at me, leaking poison. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
With a roar, he yanks backward, freeing himself from the spear. When he rights himself, he repeats, “I’m sorry,” then grabs on to the shaft and jerks with all his might.
I scream as blades cut, cut, cut at me. Finally, though, the spear leaves me.
As blood rushes up my throat and chokes me, I manage to turn my head and watch as Killian swings the spear. Blood-soaked metal glints from the shaft—as it slices through Sloan’s stomach. Her eyes go wide, and her knees collapse.
She’s not going to survive the day, either.
I want to hate her, but as one second ticks into another, I realize I’m just sad for her. Her decisions, like my own, brought her here.
Killian crawls to me. I’m panting and wheezing. The death rattle. This is it, isn’t it? The end. I’m going to die. I’m going to die today. Only minutes...seconds?...remain.
I once told my life story in a nutshell, but some of my numbers have changed.
Seventeen—the number of years I’ve lived. Existed is no longer a strong-enough word.
Two—the number of boys I’ve grown to adore since my escape from Prynne. Archer, the family I’ve craved for so long, and Killian, who took a shattered heart and put the pieces back together.
Three—the number of friends I’ve lost in my quest for the truth.
One—the number of lives I have left.
Three—the number of choices remaining for my eternal future.
“Ten, you won’t survive this.” There’s a tremor in Killian’s voice. “The poison...it’s in my system, too. My Lifeblood won’t help you.”
Baiser de la mort, the kiss of death, even now rushing through me.
He frames my face with his hands. He’s trembling.
“Go,” I manage. “Get...help...for...you.” Don’t die with me! I have a Secondlife. He doesn’t have a third.
“I was wrong about so many things.” He gives my lips a soft kiss. “The victor isn’t always adored and the failure isn’t always abhorred. I failed to sign you... I lost...and I’m glad for it. Sign with Troika, Ten. It’s where you belong.”
Another flood of tears streams down my cheeks. This boy hates losing, and yet he’s letting me go.
“We’ll be...enemies,” I whisper, my body going numb. “You’ll be...killed.”
“Better you’re my enemy and happy than my friend and miserable. And don’t worry about me, lass. They can try to kill me. They have before. I always come out okay.”
I won’t be happy while he’s trapped in Myriad, perhaps placed in the Kennel for good. But I won’t be happy in Myriad, even with this boy at my side.
Only one other option. I remain Unsigned and return to Many Ends...where I may or may not be able to save the spirits trapped inside. Without Archer, I never would have revived after the last visit.
Archer once asked me to trust him. He said we’d figure out a way into Many Ends, a way to save the spirits. And if I can get inside Many Ends, I can get inside Myriad. I can save Killian. Maybe he can go to court.
