Corrupt

Chapter 31

There's a moment where I seem to float, before the air realises what I've done, before gravity comes to claim me. 

I watch Daeva's face fill with terror. I watch a Carcaseau soldier crumple to the ground like a discarded toy. I watch a rebel snatch his knife back from her, before stumbling, unconscious, into the arms of Jason. 

Catch me. Please catch me. 

I need to help.

Abruptly, the world comes back into motion, and I am falling, and falling, and falling. 

Catch me catch me catch me

An involuntary shriek flutters from my throat.

The ground is getting nearer.

I can feel the girls' ghosts around me, ready to take me. I close my eyes.

Three, two-

At the last moment, my body falls onto a velvety net. Deep down, my heart thrums, and breath comes in short gasps. Hesitantly, I peek through one eye. The grass is millimetres from the tip of my nose. 

Just in time, I turn my head. Then I'm tumbled onto the ground. 

"You caught me," I whisper, pushing myself to my trembling feet. 

"Of course I did," Daeva mutters. Their face is pale, sweat dripping down their forehead. The rescue - such power - took everything from them. "Don't ever do that again." 

I stare at them, the sharp lines of their cheekbones, the black fire that blazes in their hard-set eyes. I thought, for a moment, that I might never see those eyes again.

"Stop it."

"What?" I reply, confused.

"Stop looking at me like that. You don't get to look at me like that. Not anymore."

"What?" I repeat. It seems to be the only word I have left.

"You sold us out. Set us up. Do you not fucking realise?"

"I..." I'd almost forgotten, the adrenaline coursing through my veins leaving me giddy. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Daeva, I... Please forgive me, I..." I reach for their face, uncaring of the unfathomable amount of blood coating it. They move backwards, jaw set. "Forgive me, Daeva," I repeat, anguish coating my words. "I didn't..."

"How about you beg for forgiveness later? If you haven't noticed, I'm a little occupied."

"Are you hurt? You need to-"

"I'll survive."

"That's not what I asked," I reply sternly, but I give up at their stony glare. "Where is Nikolas?" 

"Close." 

"I need to speak to him. I can try and convince him to stop." 

"Good luck." It's clearly my cue to leave. No, not a cue- An order.

I obey.

Around me, the scene is utter gore. Dismembered corpses lay face-down in the churned mud. I force myself to desensitize, to ignore it; I will get nowhere by cowering. 

"Where is the king?" I shout at a nearby fighter. She throws an arm up to point, and her distraction is an open opportunity for the weapon that smashes against her head. I swallow down bile as her eyes become glazed. It's my fault it's my fault it's my fault it's my fault

This is all my fault

Move. 

Find him.

Staggering onwards, I desperately sweep my gaze across the yelling crowd. Where is he?