“Ash.” Lonan was weeping now, his face pressed to my vibrating chest, his tears tracking down my skin.
I couldn’t believe the last things I would ever feel—hear—experience—would be the crocodile tears and icy touch of the one person in the world who I’d trusted more than anything—who had betrayed me so entirely.
The burning anger that surged up in me at the thought almost gave me one last burst of energy. Almost. But I could hear how short and shallow my breaths were now—like a dying animal. I couldn’t see anything at all anymore.
My heart was going to explode. I could feel it. It felt too big for my chest—there was too much blood pumping round my body. And it was hot—getting so hot, chasing away the iciness of the Carlin’s great hall and the ten sharp points of Lonan’s fingers on my chest.
Panic streaked through me, my blind eyes darting frantically even as my eyelids drooped. What was happening to me? Was this what dying felt like? Like my entire body would burst into flames and I’d experience one final moment of agony before I was gone forever?
No.I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to give Lonan or his mother the satisfaction. That was what they wanted, wasn’t it? Why else would they string me up in here, chained and half naked and shivering?
But then, it wasn’t what they wanted. They wanted me alive so they could consume me bit by bit. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understandanyof this. I didn’t understand why they’d done this to me. Why Lonan had played with me so cruelly, and that was the worst thing. It all felt so trivial, so pointless. Like my life was just something for them to play with.
And now I was dying. I could feel it creeping up on me, burning me away.
Lonan had told me not to fight it. To let it happen.
Fuck him.
I couldn’t hear anything other than the ferocious pounding of my heart, the blood surging through my body, in my head. Not even Lonan’s sobs broke through, though I could still faintly feel him shaking violently against me.
In the endless, pressing darkness, an ember of orange-red fire sparked and bloomed with impossible speed. It called to me, telling me to embrace it. To use it to chase away the Carlin’s frost. It seemed to dart closer, filling my vision, even though I couldn’t see anything anymore. It whispered at me to accept it, promising things I didn’t understand.
Then its heat was on my skin, searing me. It pushed at my mouth, asking me to let it in.
So I did.