Page 36 of Blood & Roses

I told him as succinctly as I could, a lingering headache making conversation difficult.

“It knew your name,” Rowan said, fury edging his words as he ran a comforting hand down my back. “Dark magic indeed.”

“Do you know where it came from?” I asked, looking up and brushing another shard of glass from his hair.

“No,” Rowan answered, taking my hand and squeezing it. He left blood everywhere, but I didn’t care. “But I intend to find out.”

“Isolde!”

My name was a scream from far away, a begging, aching scream of terror. Sera.

I looked at Rowan, whose eyes widened in panic as he broke into a run and dragged me with him.

The sprint to the throne room seemed endless, Sera’s screams turning from furious to frantic.

We skidded to a stop at the entryway. Injured guards groaned and bled all over the hall, but my eyes went straight to Sera. She was leaning over Tristan and slapping his face.

“What are you—”

“He’s not breathing!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her face in panic or fear or—perhaps—something else I couldn’t think about right now. “Izzy, he’s not breathing!”

Tristan was pale, his lips bloodless as I raced to him, leaning over the glass coffin to check for a pulse.

Nothing.

“What do I do?” Rowan said, running to the other side of the coffin and staring down in horror. “Can you fix him?”

“Maybe,” I said, clenching my teeth through the headache and taking his hand. I had no idea how this had happened. My magiccouldn’tkill. It must be something to do with the breaking of the mirror. Maybe a way for the queen to have the final word even after her death. “Rowan, you need to compress his chest. Down and up, right here. At least two every second as evenly as you can.”

I speared my magic into the prince, weaving it into his blood, despite the aching exhaustion growing from using so much magic. It pumped with each compression of his heart, Rowan creating a steady beat as I encouraged it to pick up the rhythm on its own.

But there was no breath feeding his blood.

“Breathe for him, Sera,” I commanded, eyes closed as I focused on restarting the prince’s heart. His rapid elven healing should be enough to save him if I could get it pumping again.

“What do you mean?” Sera sobbed, tears falling on Tristan's face, making it look like he criedwith her.

“Put your mouth over his and breathe into him!” I shouted, panic bleeding into irritation. “Make sure his head is tilted back and pinch his nose so it enters his lungs. Twice for every twenty compressions.”

Sera obeyed, pressing her mouth to Tristan’s and breathing for him. I felt blessed life-giving breath fill his blood, reigniting failing organs and muscles and bringing him back from the brink.

“Stop compressions,” I said to Rowan, panting as I forced myself not to lose consciousness despite my exhaustion. I still held Tristan’s hand, willing his blood and heart to pump and breath to fill him with every last drop of my magic. “Two more breaths, Sera.”

She complied, and the second breath…the second breath became a kiss as Tristan moved his arm, wrapping it around my sister.

Chapter 18

“Fucking gods, I’m tired,” Rowan said, falling into the giant four-poster bed in the Royal guest suite next to me a week later. He scooped me into a kiss, rolling us until I was atop him in the giant bed.

I wished it could always be this way.

The days after the queen’s death had passed in a blur of healing various guards, helping Rowan restore order to the palace, and helping Tristan come to terms withhis new life.

He had pushed Sera off him when he awoke enough to realize what was happening, coughing and raging as she turned away to wipe her tears.

They hadn’t spoken since.

My magic had been almost fully drained, but I had enough strength to stitch up several injured soldiers and provide healing potions before needing to collapse on a sofa in Tristan’s royal bedroom.