“Relax, he knows how to ignore them. And if he doesn’t, he can just shift so he doesn’t have ears.” Alcander nodded towards the water. “Watch, this is the best part.” She looked back at the mermaids, whose song was now fading. “They haven’t caught any prey,” he explained. “So there is no need for a glamour anymore.”
“Glamour?”
The mermaids’ faces started shifting—or more appropriately—blurring. Soon she could see them for what they truly were: hideous, scaly figures rising from the water. Their eyes were sunken and black, cheekbones sticking out like daggers, sallow cheeks beneath. Their teeth were thin and pointed, and black-forked tongues flicked in and out between them. The only thing that remained beautiful and unaltered was their flowing hair.
Kiora sucked in her breath.
“Awful, aren’t they?” he whispered, his lips near her ear again. The magical transfer increased tenfold and she closed her eyes, swallowing.
“Alcander,” she began weakly. He didn’t have time to answer before the sensation of a thousand fiery fingernails burned and ripped through her back. She screamed, arching against Alcander. His arms tightened around her in alarm. Her back felt like it was being flayed open, and the pain was spreading. First her back, then her arms, hands and legs. She thrashed in Alcander’s arms.
“Kiora!” he yelled.
“Make it stop!” she screamed, rolling herself into a ball before thrashing backwards again.
Drustan walked into the bubble as she thrashed backwards again. Her fingernails cut bloody lines into her palms.
“What is wrong with her?” he shouted over her screams.
“I think she is feeling Emane’s pain again,” Alcander shouted back, pulling Kiora as tight to his chest as he could.
“How far to the Manor? We have to get Emane out now!”
“No,” Alcander snapped, staring up at him with determination.
“What do you mean, no?”
“We can’t take her in there, not like this. How long do you think it will take for Dralazar to figure this out? All he has to do is hurt Emane to incapacitate her. No shield she throws will be strong enough to protect her.”
“Alcander,” Kiora whimpered. A sheen of sweat lay over her body. Her face was ashen. “Please.” She twisted in his arms.
The pain in her voice broke his heart. He couldn’t do anything to protect her. Smoothing back her hair, he placed his lips against her forehead. “It’s all right, Kiora, it will be okay. Emane will heal soon, hold on.”
* * *
EMANE CAME TO AND wished he hadn’t. He had been wise to avoid the bars that held him captive. Dralazar had lost his patience and thrown him into them. The pain that had ripped through his skin was something he wanted to forget. Unfortunately, he woke to it.
“Emane?” a small voice asked.
He cringed but said nothing as a burst of anger flared behind his closed eyes. How dare she sound so concerned, after everything, over and over again.
“Please,” Layla pleaded from the other side of the bars. “Heal yourself, I can’t stand to see you like this.”
He wanted to laugh. She couldn’t stand to see him like this? It was funny in a sick kind of way. He would love to heal himself. But to heal himself he would have to move. Not only move, but somehow reach his arm around to his back. Taking a deep breath, he moved his arm a fraction to the side. The charred skin where one of the bars had bit immediately split open at the movement. He yelled in pain before biting down on his wrist.
“Emane!” Layla jumped up, running to the bars.
“Layla,” he half screamed. “Not now.” He shuddered, his insides withering at the thought of another movement. Deciding fast was better than slow, he flung his arm behind him. He screamed in agony as his back exploded in a firestorm of pain. His vision swam with black spots. His fingers were just inches from his back when his pain doubled. Half the pain was his—the other was not.
“No,” he gasped. “No!”
Kiora could feel it, all of it. And he was feeling her feeling it. She must be getting closer. He had to heal himself now—for Kiora. Biting down on his wrist again, Emane swung his arm around, determined to reach his back. The pain was horrendous. His head swam, threatening the usually welcome escape to unconsciousness. But this time he struggled against it, refusing to surrender. He could taste blood in his mouth as his fingers brushed against his charred and split skin, dumping every bit of magic he could muster into