The Faire (Harrow Faire #5) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,14
in that pit.
Cora.
She wasn’t screaming. There was only the sound of his own suffering. He couldn’t even reach out to her.
Turk let out a heavy sigh. “I never wanted to hurt her, Puppeteer. She doesn’t deserve this. I will rot in the pits of the afterlife—if I’m even granted one—once this is all over. But it must be done. This creature must be stopped.” Ringmaster headed down the stairs away from him, disappearing into the dim light. “Goodbye, Simon. I wish I could say I felt guilt over doing this to you…but I do not. You deserve this and more.”
Simon roared in rage. “Let me down, Ringmaster! Let me down at once!” But he was hollering at no one. He was alone. A few seconds later…and the lights in the tower flicked off. He listened and waited for the sound of the metal door shutting.
Turk was gone.
And he would never return.
Blood was rushing into his head. His ears were already pounding. Soon, he’d begin to black out from the pain. He’d hyperventilate. His body would begin to cycle through a pattern of relief and agony as he died from the suffering and then healed enough to wake.
And now, he cried.
He cried…
Because he never had the chance to finish his sentence.
“Cora—” he called into the darkness below. “Cora—I love you.”
Cora was falling.
She didn’t know to where. She didn’t know for how long. As the darkness rushed by her, shapes just out of view were moving too quickly for her to make sense of any of it. She screamed.
She wondered if she would fall forever.
Right until the moment she stopped.
And the stopping was worse.
She felt her body contort and twist as she impacted something sharp and metal. Her vision flashed white as searing pain wracked her body, leaving her unable to process anything.
She couldn’t scream.
She couldn’t make a sound.
She had no clue how much time she lost like that before she came around again.
She wished she had stayed in that white space where everything hurt too much to think.
Because then she wouldn’t have to see the structure she’d landed on. It was a sculpture of some sort. Teeth and claws, jagged and sharp, rose up around her. She had landed…in a mouth, maybe? It was hard to say. She couldn’t turn her head far enough to see.
Because a piece of metal was through her throat, right at the base by her collarbone. Another long shard skewered her stomach. Another, her right thigh. Her left calf on another. Her arms were over her chest, still shackled together at the wrist. The metal chain was draped around her over the sculpture like morbid tinsel on a Christmas tree.
She tried to fill her lungs and gagged on blood. If she turned her head just so, she could breathe—but it felt like sucking air through a pinched straw.
It hurt.
Oh, god, it hurt.
I thought I knew what pain was.
She tried to move. She could shift her arms…but that was all.
This is how I die.
This is how my world ends.
Someone far overhead cried her name. She couldn’t hear much else. They were too far away. But she could recognize the owner of the voice. Simon. She knew he was far above her, hanging from the rafters of the tower. He was suffering just like her.
He called her name again. She wished she could cry back. But her mind was starting to fade into darkness. She couldn’t breathe enough to keep everything working. She couldn’t move enough to free herself. She was going to die like this.
But she knew it wouldn’t last.
Nothing in Harrow Faire was that easy.
She tried to reach up. She didn’t know why. Something in her wanted to be just a few inches closer to Simon. She wanted to hold him. Wanted to be held by him.
But I will never get the chance. This is as close as we’ll ever get again.
At least…at least I’ll go with him.
I love you, Simon Waite. I love you.
And I’m sorry.
4
Ringmaster closed both the wood and metal doors behind him, locked them one at a time, and slipped both keys into his coat. He supposed it didn’t matter if he kept the Key hidden, but he did it anyway. He could hang them from the doorknob and invite anyone to try, but like all others trying to wrest Excalibur from the stone, no one could wield the Key but him.