“I see stars!” shouted Sibyl.

Andra couldn’t, but she believed the girl’s excited voice, and guided the bubble up so they could get the hell out of there.

“To the left,” said Paul. “There.”

Her ears started to ring and she couldn’t hear anything now, either. She wasn’t sure if she was out of the hole in the cave or not until she felt Paul’s triumph singing through their link.

She drove the bubble sideways, making sure they didn’t fall back down into the hole once the bubble popped.

We’re safe. You can let go now.

It was Paul’s voice in her head—his comforting presence—so she let go. They landed with a thump. Andra sucked in huge gulps of air and lay in the cool grass. Her heart hammered inside her, slowing with each beat. She could feel Paul’s fingers lace through hers and reveled in the pride radiating out from him. She’d done it. She’d gotten them all out alive.

And then his presence was gone as if someone had flipped a switch. She reached out for him in her mind, but slammed into a wall. He wasn’t there. She was alone again.

The luceria opened and slid from her neck into the grass. She tried to reach for it, but her arms didn’t work. Nothing worked. Everything was broken now, and Paul was gone.

The world faded away and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

Chapter 29

Paul had expected there to be pain. He saw the luceria fall. He’d braced himself for the agony he knew was coming, but nothing happened. Andra had used so much of his power that it no longer pounded at his insides, trying to tear him apart.

He was going to die, but at least he wouldn’t be in quite so much pain. He was thankful for that.

Paul gathered her in his arms and held her while her body recovered. The other Theronai had found them and were running this way. He saw Gilda, along with the others who had gone down there with him. They were safe. A little dusty, but safe.

Paul bowed his head in relief. Everyone had made it out alive. They had rescued Sibyl, and the remains of Andra’s sister were safely stowed in his duffel bag. All in all, it was a total success. Too bad he didn’t feel like celebrating.

Helen bent down and checked Andra’s pulse. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Just overload.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angus crushing his daughter in a desperate hug. Gilda hung back, watching, wringing her hands as if she were itching to join in. She didn’t.

“I know what that’s like,” said Helen. She reached into the grass and picked up the luceria. “Looks like she lost this.”

Paul’s hand shook when he took it from her. Colors swirled inside the band, still more blue than anything, but not completely.

She couldn’t even stand to give him another week. Only one hour. As much as he’d hoped for more, he understood. He’d made mistakes with her—unforgivable ones. He didn’t deserve another week and he knew it. So did she.

He fastened the luceria around his neck and felt the first leaf fall from his lifemark. It fluttered down over his ribs, and before it had stopped falling, another joined it. Then another.

Living until sunrise might have been an optimistic estimate. At this rate, he’d have only a few hours at most.

He wanted to spend them with Andra, as selfish as that was. He swore to himself he wouldn’t let her watch him die, but he ached to be with her just a little longer.

He had only a few moments before his soul would begin to fade and he’d have to leave her. He couldn’t trust himself not to force her to take his luceria again. He couldn’t trust himself not to hurt her or try to enslave her as he had before. He wanted forever with her too much to risk it. She’d be safer if he went to meet his fate as he’d been planning to do for decades.

He picked her up and followed the men to the vehicles. Even smudged with dirt and pale from exertion, she was still beautiful in the moonlight. He was a lucky man to have known her, even if it had been for only a few days.

A few days with Andra was worth more to him than a lifetime with any other woman.

Andra felt hungover. Her head pounded, her throat was sore, and she was pretty sure she was going to puke. That was the thought that got her moving enough to sit up. She didn’t want to get sick in her bed.

As she sat up, she quickly realized that she wasn’t in her bed. She was in a car outside of that nasty cave. The doors were open and a warm summer breeze slid over her skin. Morgan and Madoc stood guard not far away, scanning the area, speaking too low for her to hear.

The whole night came flooding back to her. She’d done it. She’d gotten them out safely.

She’d found her baby sister, too. After eight years, she could finally lay Tori to rest.

Tears stung her eyes as she leaned down and unzipped the duffel bag. The tattered pink nightgown was no more than shreds now. The bones inside it were dusty, and she couldn’t bring herself to touch them. This was Tori’s body, but it wasn’t all that she left behind. She’d brought joy to everyone around her. She’d given Andra more good memories than one person deserved to have. She hadn’t lived long, but the years she’d had had been good ones, and she’d used them to spill more love out into the world than anyone else Andra had ever known.

Andra’s tears dripped onto the red bag, leaving behind dark spots. “Love you, baby,” she whispered. “You can rest now.”

With that, Andra zipped the bag closed and put the past behind her. Tori wouldn’t have wanted her to be sad. She would have wanted her to live and laugh and love.

Paul.

He was nowhere around, but when she stepped over the bag to get out and find him, she saw the glint of metal. His sword was sheathed, lying under Tori’s bones on the floorboards of the SUV.

He never went anywhere without it. Why would he have left it behind?

Unless he wasn’t coming back.

Andra started to panic and reached out for him so she could find him, but there was nothing there. Her hand flew to her throat and only bare skin greeted her. The luceria was gone. Their time was over.

He’d left her. But why?

She scrambled from the vehicle and her legs gave out on her. She fell to the concrete and her palms burned from the impact. Madoc rushed to her and helped her up.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Where’s Paul?”

“He was here just a few minutes ago.”

Andra pointed at the sword. “He left it behind. Where is he?”

Madoc watched her, his face expressionless. “He went to die.”

Morgan elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re not supposed to talk about it. Where the hell is your honor?”

“Fuck honor,” growled Madoc. “She deserves to know the score.”

“If he hid it from her,” said Morgan, “it was because that was his choice. He didn’t want her to know what he was doing.”

She was stunned silent for a long second, then looked at Madoc. “What exactly is he doing?”

“He went to go take out a bunch of Synestryn on their way back into the cave.”

“He what? Why the hell would he . . . ?” She didn’t have time for that. She’d beat it out of Paul when she found him. “Which way did he go?”

Madoc knew. She could see it in his eyes.

Andra grabbed him by the shirt and gave him a shake. He was too big for her to rock him much, but he got the point. “Where did he go?”

Madoc’s green eyes flicked to the right, toward a thick growth of trees. “Sun’s almost up and he’s been gone long enough to do the job. You won’t find him in time.”

The hell she wouldn’t. She grabbed Madoc’s cell phone off his belt and ran as she scrolled through his phone book. Her legs were wobbly, but they held because this was important.

The phone rang, but he didn’t pick up. She didn’t bother leaving a voice mail. She just dialed again. Finally, on the fourth try, he picked up.

“Leave me alone, man,” growled Paul.

“No,” she said. “I won’t.”

He clearly hadn’t expected it to be her on the line. “They told you, didn’t they?”

“Yes, and I’m not going to let you do it.” She was panting, barely able to make the words come out.

“This isn’t a choice, Andra. I’m not going to let myself live long enough for my soul to die. I want you so much, I’d hurt you.” He sucked in a hissing breath.

“I already lost Mom and Tori. I can’t lose you, too.” The mere thought was tearing her apart. She’d already lost too much. She deserved to have a little happiness for a change.

She plunged into the woods, using instinct to guide her. She wished she still had that connection to him—that she could hunt him down with her mind.

“I won’t have you tied to me out of obligation,” he said. His voice was growing weaker.

She had no idea what he meant. “What obligation? Love is never an obligation.”

Brush and low limbs slashed at her face, but she pushed forward.

“You love me?” he asked, his voice lifting with hope.

Normally, she would have pulled back and put some distance between them. This was all way too fast, and she still had responsibilities that had to come first. Loving anyone was going to be a huge complication, not to mention the fact that if she admitted it, there would be no more hiding. No more lying to herself.

If she loved him, he could hurt her. If she loved him and he died, she’d never recover.

“Yeah,” she whispered, though whether it was because she was out of breath or because she feared saying it too loud, she wasn’t sure. “I love you.”

“I wish I’d known. Too late now.”

He let out a deep groan of pain. She could hear it nearby, and a split second later, it echoed over the phone. He was close.

“Can you hear me?” she yelled.

“Love . . . you . . . too.” The words were so faint she could hardly hear them.

She saw a glimpse of blue that didn’t belong in the forest. She wished like hell she had magic eyes again to help her see. The pink light of impending dawn was barely enough to guide her.

As she got nearer, she saw that the blue was his jeans. She’d found him.

Andra tumbled through the trees and fell at his side. He was leaning against a thick trunk, slumped and unmoving. Synestryn corpses littered the ground a few feet away. Dozens of them. Several deep gashes in Paul’s flesh leaked red blood. His skin was growing paler by the second. His chest was bare, his shirt slit open along the right side where claws had torn it apart, along with his skin.

The tattoo over his chest was bare. All the leaves were dead, lying in a heap along his waist.

The luceria swirled with color, but that was fading fast.

Praying it wasn’t too late, she yanked the thing off his neck and fastened it around her own. The ends locked together, but nothing else happened. She still couldn’t feel him.

He wasn’t breathing.

Panic made her tremble. She pressed her fingers to the side of his neck, trying to feel a pulse. It was faint and she wasn’t totally sure that it hadn’t been her own, but it gave her hope.