but Quinn shrugged it off. “They’re going to come—”
He snorted. “Yeah, and you’ll be proclaimed a hero, but Kiera and I will forever be the villains . . . the traitors. And me, even more so now.”
“Quinn,” Kiera whispered his name as she stepped out of the water. “You promised not to leave me.”
“You have all of them now. You don’t need me.”
“I do need you.” A tremor shook the proud line of her shoulders, making the golden claws and fangs strung around her throat clink and cast riotous tinsels over the wet sand.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I’m tired.”
She rushed into his arms, and he caught her, hugged her tight, and it reminded me that those capable of hatred were also capable of love.
Had Kingston ever been capable of the sentiment? Sure, he’d loved himself, but had he ever loved someone else? Maybe his mother . . .
“The apple, princess. Hand it over.”
Cruz was still standing between us. “Are you certain, Quinn?”
“Yes.”
“Please, Quinn . . . don’t do this,” Kiera croaked.
The bearded Daneelie shut his eyes. When he opened them, they were slick with tears but sharp with determination. “Go away, Kiera.”
“Don’t—”
“Go!”
She backed up. “You selfish asshole!” And then she twisted around and ran.
Quinn cringed but extended his hand, and Cruz shifted sideways to give him access to me. He stayed close, though, perhaps worried eating it wasn’t Quinn’s intent.
After handing him the apple, I pressed my palms together. I didn’t extract my dust, but I readied it.
For a heartbeat, Quinn stared at the space between the panem and aloe where Kiera had taken refuge. “Cruz, you’ll take care of her, right?”
“I will.”
Quinn’s Adam’s apple bobbed. In slow motion, he brought the apple to his mouth, parted his lips, and sank his yellowed teeth into the crisp red skin.
His brows snapped together.
His body jerked.
The apple fell, the bitemark a small cloud floating in a crimson sky.
Like the water that flowed through his veins, the Daneelie liquefied, gliding into his watery grave.
41
The Wait
Cruz had jerked just as hard as Quinn in his final moment. But since then, he hadn’t moved. Giya, on the other hand, had spun her head away, a fist clamped against her teeth. Her chest heaved, but she somehow managed not to be sick, the same way I somehow managed to feel nothing at the sight of another man dying.
I didn’t wish to become anesthetized to death, because those who were took life for granted. But I hadn’t known Quinn. Hadn’t liked him. So how was I supposed to care that he was gone? I felt awful for Kiera and hoped she wouldn’t hold his death against me. I felt bad for Cruz, because whether he’d been tight with Quinn or not, they’d coexisted in this cell since his own imprisonment.
“I’m—I’m going to go check on . . . Kiera.” He shuddered. “Will you two be all right?”
We would be . . . in time. Giya was shocked and shaking. As for me . . . I existed but wasn’t truly there. Raising my gaze back to the top of the cliff, I murmured, “Go.”
He nodded, then strode away from the sandy graveyard. I’d always loved the beach, but today would blemish that love.
A wavelet lapped at the apple.
Whole again.
I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t want to touch it anymore, even though I probably would have to, if only to make sure no one else tried to take their lives or someone else’s. After some time, Giya went to rinse the suds from her hair, then strode back out and dropped down next to me on the sand.
Since the sky didn’t darken, it was impossible to tell how much time had gone by since Remo had . . . since he’d left. It felt entirely too long, though.
“You’re shivering.” Giya draped her arm around me.
I let my head drop against her shoulder. My sodden clothes stuck to my goose bumps, racking me with more tremors.
For a while, we were both quiet.
Then, “I can’t believe you have feelings for Remo Farrow. The bully who made your childhood hell.” She rested her cheek on the top of my head. “Faith and your mother are going to have to make peace. That’ll be entertaining.” I could hear her smile.
I was incapable of smiling.
She squeezed me against her. “He’ll be back, Amara.”
“What if—”
“He’s a Farrow, abiwoojin. They’re unkillable. Sook tried and failed spectacularly.”
No one was unkillable. Instead of reminding her, I picked my head off the damp cream silk of her