Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,81

soul was doing the same.

It was dying. A true death.

Flurries of dark purple ashes lifted into the air as the water’s cleared in an instant, the absolute opaqueness of the Servalis stone began dim slowly. The darkness returning to Quinn, crawling up her front like a cloud of smoke, into her nostrils and mouth and ears. As it did, her color began to return. The ivory of her skin, so unnatural before, began to pinken. The blue sheen to her eyelids and cheekbones diminished.

Lazarus bit the inside of his cheek as he waited. The magic needed to return completely, but the longer he remained in the water with her, the faster the basilisk deteriorated. Its cries teetering out into pathetic mewls and then only silence as Lazarus scooped handfuls of the still dark water and brought it closer to Quinn, letting the darkness lift away from the liquid and slide back to its home inside of the woman he held.

Lazarus’ eyes narrowed as her hair began to soak up the darkness as well. He had heard rumors of the body changing when undergoing a trial such as this, but nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes. Where her power was such a pure darkness, her hair was not. The silver strands slid against his palm as he reached up and shifted the locks to the side, pressing a hand to her face.

Her hair was still silver at the roots, but a faint purple color had bled into the ends and was steadily climbing. He smoothed her slick strands back as he watched the rest of it turn lavender. Her eyebrows followed suit.

He reached for the basilisk’s presence, though its corporeal body had long since gone. It was there somewhere … but like smoke in the wind, not something he could truly grasp.

Lazarus shook his head as his eyes drifted down to the sleeping woman in his arms as the last of the dark water turned clear. But it wasn’t only her magic she’d taken.

His basilisk was gone, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that her magic had consumed it—she had not only taken back her own power, but she had devoured a piece of his as well.

Along his spine, Lazarus felt the emptiness, the lightness of being one soul lesser than he had been before. His muscles tightened as he lifted Quinn into his arms and out of the water, her legs over one arm and her back against his other. Her weight was slight by comparison to his own, but still, he took his time carrying her down the steps and through the lower pool. The translucent waters slid against his hips as he strode onto the rocky shore and placed her on the ground.

Lazarus bent over Quinn, pressing his fingers against her throat and sighing with relief as he felt the strong rhythm of her heartbeat returning. Then he backed up, waiting to see if she would wake up now that her magic had been restored. After several tense, quiet moments, Lazarus realized that was not happening.

He leaned forward, tapping her cheek lightly. Quinn’s eyes drifted open, their depths murky and unfocused.

“Quinn? Can you understand me?” Lazarus asked. Her body shuddered, shivers skating up and down her flesh as her lashes fluttered. “Quinn?” Lazarus repeated her name and once again received no verbal response.

Instead, she jerked forcefully as she turned her cheek and her back bowed. Water shot from between her lips, everything she’d eaten on the ascent up the mountain followed as it emptied on the cave floor. Lazarus attempted and failed to help her sit up, but shudders racked her body and she curled tight into herself before pressing against him—her mind obviously unaware of who she was touching as she sought out the only source of heat in reach.

Is this a result of the test? Lazarus wondered. He knew she was strong, that much was clear. The once smooth stone had turned pure onyx and grown crystals that still remained in the absence of her power—and what a magnificent power it had been.

As Lazarus lifted Quinn into his arms once more after retrieving her clothes and wrapping her in his dry cloak, he looked back over his shoulder. The waters of the spring had calmed, reflecting a now serene surface when just minutes before it had been a dark frenzied whirlpool. He had already known it, but this only served to establish and confirm Lazarus’ suspicions. Quinn was no ordinary