In keeping with his Gloresti instincts, he ignored the fleeing Mercesti and drew to an immediate halt when he saw Skye, running the remaining distance to her. As soon as he knelt on the ground, the spirit beside her winked into darkness.
Caleb realized he was holding his breath as he leaned over her to determine if she was still alive. Would he sense if she had been killed? He was still too much a novice to really understand this connection he had with the aggravating, temperamental, emotional…amazing girl. In any case, he couldn’t deny his relief when he heard her breathing. The sound was harsh and choppy, as if her ribs were constricted, but it meant she lived.
When he did a closer inspection after generating some light, he saw bruising already starting to form along the side of her ribcage visible to him. Her left arm was bent under her at an unnatural angle. She was bleeding from a large cut along her hairline. The bump alongside the cut concerned him, as did the blood on her lips. Had she bitten herself, or was she bleeding internally?
The foreign sensations of worry and outrage that rushed through him as he assessed her condition took him completely by surprise. Why should he feel so intensely for this obstinate half-human girl when he hadn’t done so for anyone else in nearly a century? He decided it must be his Gloresti impulses. Because he had trained for just this role for his entire existence, he wasn’t quite sure what to think about the foreign emotions.
Unwilling to risk moving her, he sat beside her to wait. He knew the others would come shortly. Before they did, he allowed himself to touch her vibrant hair, something he had wanted to do since she had assumed her Estilorian form. He would die before ever admitting such a thing to anyone, of course.
And he vowed he would hunt down whoever had done this to her if it was the last thing he did.
Grolkinei had not once doubted the capability of his team of top commanders to complete their mission. So when they returned to him, battered and defeated, he raged.
“What do you mean by coming back to me like this—dragging your tails behind you like defeated lambs? You have bested contingents of Waresti and Gloresti, for unholy sake! These girls are half human!”
They were again gathered in the meeting room. One of the beautiful windows overlooking the lake had already suffered at Grolkinei’s hands. He had thrown a chair through it. Wisely, none of the commanders sitting tensely at the long, wooden table spoke. They knew their leader had to wind down before he would hear them out.
Cesaro, the one Mercesti commander who had not gone on the mission, sat back with a smug expression on his face. Angius gave him a deadly glare, causing the smugness to fade.
“You are an embarrassment to all Mercesti,” Grolkinei railed. “I should execute every single one of you as an example to everyone else!”
On and on he went, throwing objects, pounding on the table and spewing a stream of curse words. After a while, his eyes stopped glowing such an intense red. His breathing leveled out. His pacing slowed. The commanders began to relax, seeing he was finally regaining control of himself.
He threw himself into the chair that he had abandoned when they had walked in as a group and caught him with the unexpected news. His custom-made suit jacket sat in a heap on the floor, covered in glass and his shoe prints. His tie hung loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his tailored shirt having been ripped off when he viciously yanked it. His ebony hair stood on end where he had rent his fingers through it. Now, he sipped calmly on a glass of water and nodded to Angius.
Taking the hint, Angius finally got to his feet, as he had been itching to do. He stood with his legs braced apart, his arms held behind his back in an at-ease stance, and faced the room. Blood trailed down both of his arms where he had been scored by his opponent’s sword. His black pants were wrapped with bloody bandages around his left thigh where the dagger had struck him.
“The half-human females had assumed their powers by the time they were led to us. They are more powerful than we anticipated. And they each appear to have different talents.
“The first one, the object of the Orculesti’s anger and jealousy, entered the chamber armed and prepared to do battle. I do not know how she knew we were there. Perhaps she simply did not trust having been shoved into a dark room. But she drew her weapon the moment she gained her footing. Seeing that she knew her way with the weapon, and that the weapon was forged unlike anything I had ever seen, I attempted to disarm her. Even in the dark, she somehow sensed my actions and deflected me. She even got in several hits during the course of us facing each other. I suspect her blade is blessed, as my wounds will not stop bleeding, though they are rather superficial. I was forced to use my sword against her.”
Grolkinei frowned severely. “You used your sword and drew blood?” When the commander gave him a confirming nod, he pursed his lips. “That is unfortunate. In addition to being a key we must need to cross to the human plane, she sounds like she would have made a rather magnificent addition to our growing army.”
Layla gasped at that, but held her tongue.
Angius grunted, but whether he agreed with his commander or not wasn’t evident. “Yes, well, it appears she was bound to Gabriel.”
Surging up from his chair, Grolkinei placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward, his eyes flaring. “What? We received no word that he had made the passage back from the human plane.” Turning to Layla, who rapidly shook her head, he cursed and began to pace. “What does this mean? Has he resumed command of the Gloresti?” When no one responded, he turned back to Angius. “Precisely what do you mean by saying Saraqael’s daughter was ‘bound’ to him?”
“I cannot say for certain. But the Orculesti we brought back with us, once she regains consciousness, should be able to explain. I can tell you the golden-eyed half-human wore a ring on her left ring finger, and whatever it signified is what sent the Orculesti female to us. When the Orculesti tried to remove the ring, there was a surge of powerful and searing holy light. She could not remove it.”
Once again running his fingers through his hair, Grolkinei muttered to himself. Then, obviously realizing he wouldn’t be getting answers to this mystery, he waved a hand. “Tell me about the other two daughters.”
“One of them—the blue-eyed one—was able to command holy light. It hurt.”
For Angius to admit as much, it must have been excruciating. Grolkinei looked again at Layla, whose head was bowed. Lifting her face, he studied the angry red burns extending from her left ear to the left side of her nose. Her left eye had, mercifully, been spared. But her beauty would never be the same. “Is this the one who so marked you, my lovely?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a hard voice, refusing to weep. “With her blessed blue light.”
“Then you alone may kill her.”
She looked at him as though he had just gifted her with the largest gem on the Estilorian plane. “Thank you, my lord,” she said reverently, bringing his hand to her lips.
“I have no need for anyone whose spirit is pure enough to command holy light,” he said dismissively. Then he looked pointedly at Angius to continue.
“The other was in Ryce’s control.”
Ryce rose, his mien as harsh and angry as always. “The green-eyed one was nothing. I could have had her gone from there in a thrice if not for the blasted holy light. While I was waiting for a chance to get clear of the chamber, a huge white panther entered. The half-human I had captured said she could command the animal with her mind. When I told her she was lying, that the cat would get her as soon as it would get me, she lifted her feet from the ground and the cat swiped me in the leg at the exact same time. It was obvious they were able to communicate with each other. I had no choice but to abandon her.” He paused, then realized he might as well get the next admission over with. After clenching his jaw, he ground out, “I believe I may have nicked an artery in her neck with my knife.”
His expression murderous, Grolkinei ground out, “Let me be certain I have this right. Of Saraqael’s daug
hters, all of whom have enviable powers, the two that I could possibly have any use for are probably dead?”
The silence in the room was as fragile as the window glass. Angius and Ryce sat down at the same time, knowing their lord was about to have another explosive fit.
It was going to be a long night.
Gabriel had forgotten that when more than one Gloresti at a time felt a surge of protective energy, a mental alert went out to all Gloresti. He also forgot that any significant distress experienced by an elder of any class was felt by all of the other elders. So it was with quite a bit of surprise and no small amount of relief that he watched the remaining seven elders hurry into the chamber even as Amber fell backwards into his arms, unconscious.
“What has happened?” Jabari demanded, hurrying to Gabriel’s side. His eyes shifted from Amber to Olivia and James, his expression appalled and disbelieving.
“Skye is also injured,” Malukali announced after she paused in the room for a moment. Her eyes glowed brightly, indicating she was using her mental abilities. She lifted her long, colorful skirt and ran for the dark tunnel leading out of the room and the coliseum. Her dark green wings appeared as soon as she was cleared for it.
Ini-herit and Knorbis knelt beside Jabari and Gabriel and listened as Gabriel quickly related what had happened. The expressions of the other elders darkened in concern with every word.
Skye is down. Unconscious. Terrible head wound. Broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder. She needs to be healed, Ini-herit.
Malukali’s voice whispered through all of the elder’s minds, including Gabriel’s. He nodded at Ini-herit, giving the other elder his agreement for him to leave. Gabriel planned to help Amber’s healing speed along, and it sounded like Skye’s injuries were pretty severe. Within the span of a heartbeat, Ini-herit stood, turned, and ran from the chamber, his silver wings glistening into existence as soon as he entered the tunnel.
“Amber is bleeding freely,” Jabari said with a concerned frown.
“I know. I’m going to help her.” Pausing, Gabriel glanced up and caught the gazes of the other elders in the room. “This was what we did on the human plane to promote her healing, just so you know.”
Jabari responded for them all with an understanding nod.
Gabriel leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Amber’s. He waited for the strong healing connection to make itself known, as it had done when she had been attacked by the wolves. But her lips were cold and unresponsive. His brow drew together as he tried to deepen the kiss. She remained still and unmoving, his touch not appearing to make any difference at all.
“I don’t…” he trailed off, pulling back a few inches from Amber and looking at her beautiful, lifeless face with confusion and a deep, spreading alarm.
“She is barely breathing,” Jabari said quietly. “What manner of blade was used against her?”
His throat tightening with fear as he processed Jabari’s observation and question, Gabriel responded, “I have no idea. I wasn’t—I wasn’t here.” He suddenly pulled Amber against him in a fierce hug, as though he could press some of his vitality into her just by being close to her. Realization slowly began to penetrate as he listened to her heartbeat slow one laborious beat at a time. “Amber!”
“Gabriel—” Jabari began.
“No!” he shouted.
He heard the terror in his own voice. But he refused to hear what he knew the other elder was going to say. No. Oh, God, no. Please. He couldn’t bear anything other than the thought that Amber would be okay.
“We cannot help her if we do not know what caused these injuries, Gabriel,” Knorbis said, his voice subdued.
And then a soft voice whispered, “Black.”
They all turned and looked at Olivia, who was now sitting, propped up by James’ arms. She studied them with clear green eyes and then looked at Amber. Those lovely eyes filled. “The Mercesti’s blade was black.”
Jabari and Knorbis closed their eyes and bowed their heads, making Gabriel’s heart seize like a ball of ice in his chest.
Fighting the urge to close his own eyes to brace himself, he pushed past his panic and asked, “What?” He was involuntarily running his hands up and down Amber’s cold arms as though he could rub feeling into them. When her head lolled loosely to the side, he switched his hold to cradle her, inadvertently breathing in her familiar sunshine and spiced honey scent. He swallowed hard against the impact her scent had on his fragile grasp on his feelings. “What does that mean? A black blade?”
“Only one Mercesti carries a black blade,” James responded, his voice even more solemn than usual. He exchanged glances with the elders. “Angius, the strongest of all of Grolkinei’s commanders. It is said that his blade was cursed by the darkest of all of Hell’s demons when it was forged.”
When Gabriel continued to look blank and desperate for a clear explanation, Jabari reached out and covered his hands with his own.
“Amber has been struck by a cursed blade,” he explained softly. “Gabriel, I am so sorry. Such an injury defies our ability to heal. This is something no Estilorian can survive.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Something no Estilorian can survive.
Jabari’s words echoed in Gabriel’s mind. They became a sort of mantra. After all, he reasoned, Amber was not full Estilorian.
But he knew.
Skye had been healed enough by Ini-herit to walk back into the chamber of her own volition. Blood covered half of her face and she had a hideous bruise along her right side, but she didn’t seem to notice. She stood to the side of the chamber with her arms around Olivia, who was equally covered in dried blood and was now also on her feet. Aurora and their Gloresti stood beside them. Their eyes were all centered on Amber’s still form.
When all of the elders were again together and pulled Gabriel into a circle of power, leaving Amber lying alone on the hard ground in the middle of them, he didn’t resist. He knelt, called forth his wings, touched them to the wings of the elders kneeling beside him and allowed their power to circle and flow through and around him. He even did what he could to contribute to that power.
But he knew.
Because their powers were stronger when positive energy was the focus, he buried his fears and deepest emotions to avoid distracting the others. If Amber was to have any chance, she needed their power at its greatest strength. So he repeated Jabari’s words in his mind, praying that somehow, Amber’s human blood would make her immune or at least resistant to the deadly effect of the cursed blade.
But the moment Jabari had issued those damning words, Gabriel had mined his own memories in search of information about the Mercesti weapon.
And he knew.
He knew Amber was right now in a dark void, feeling no pain. Her soul was somewhere deep inside of herself, shunning the awful effects of the unholy marks on her body. The evil staining her blood would spread, however. Slowly and inevitably. And she wouldn’t be without pain for much longer. Soon, it would be all she experienced. Until finally—and, by then, mercifully—it would kill her.
And because she was his avowed, it would kill him, too. Such was the nature of their connection. But that wasn’t a concern to him. No. He would suffer far worse than the mere act of dying over the next interminable span of time, simply because he would have to sit and watch as she died.
Yes, they would watch, and they would do what they could with their power and their energy to counteract the effects of the injuries. Gabriel prayed with everything human and Estilorian in him that it would be enough. He tried to send thoughts to Amber, tried to reach her mind. But it was as though she was no longer there. Even when they had been apart before the ceremony, he had at least sensed her. He had sensed that they would soon be together again. Now, nothing.
And he knew.
He sat in self-enforced numbness, willing the others around him to help him generate enough power to save her. His hands were clenched in front of him like he knelt in prayer, which was exactly
what he was doing. He watched Amber’s still form for any sign of life as the formidable power of the elders circled and built. He listened for her with his mind with an equal intensity.
And then the pain began.
Physically, Gabriel felt none of it. But he would bear witness to its vicious brutality. Her body writhed. Inhuman noises—the sounds of the tortured—issued from her throat. Her fingers and her heels dug into the hard ground beneath her for purchase. Her wounds no longer bled red, but black. When she opened her once-beautiful golden eyes, they were also entirely black. But the tears that spilled from those eyes were clear.
Gabriel sat as his avowed lay dying by cruel inches. He felt the will of the other elders focusing on keeping him in place so they could continue to try and help her. Then, because he was on the left side of her body, he saw her ring catch the light.
And it shattered him.
Before he could project the thought and thus prompt someone to stop him, he retracted his wings and scrambled desperately over to her on his hands and knees. He lifted her and clung to her. And simply allowed himself to feel.
“Oh, God—Amber!” his voice broke.
When she bucked and screamed, he tried to soothe her, even as sobs shook him. The agony he sensed in her became his own, an uncontrollable anguish that pierced his heart and soul. And when that pain then crashed through the group of elders, the sensation was so intense that there were audible gasps and soft cries.
He would have done anything to stop her from experiencing one more second of the pain. Every one of her screams ripped through him. She clawed and fought, but he refused to let her go.
Because the circle had already been broken, Skye and Olivia hurried closer. Skye took Amber’s right hand in her own, unconcerned that Amber’s grip could break the bones in her hand. Olivia did what she could to hold Amber’s legs steady. The sisters wept along with Gabriel. His ravaged grief was unbearable to witness.