Heart of the Wolf Prince

Chapter 39

Althea

*****

One minute and twenty-six seconds. That's how long it's been since her heart stopped beating.

I've been staring at my sister that entire time; well, at least, what remains of her, because I can barely recognise the body before me. Red-and-black burns blight what was once an expanse of beautiful pale skin, and hair that was once so white now sits as choppy black strands at the base of her skull.

There's a strange bond between siblings, one in which they can sense when the other's dead. I've heard of it before, and yet I'd never really considered it until now. It urges me to get closer to Naomi, but the iron collar around my throat secures me in place, like a cruel master holding me on a tight leash. So, I just keep staring at her, waiting for her heart to beat again, waiting for her to get up and tell us she's okay. That it was all an illusion. It's a fools wish, I know, because I saw the fire that consumed her. I saw the magic that erupted from her body, tearing her apart. I felt it, drumming against my skin, probing for a way in; it's domineering presence invading every inch of my body.

But I can't bring myself to accept the alternative: that Naomi is really gone.

An awful scream sounds from the man holding her, the kind that pierces the air and turns hearts to stone. He's been howling all this time, and I think he's the first to comprehend the tragedy laid out before us. He's holding my sister's head to his chest, trying to brush back locks of that non-existent hair, but the strands turn to soot under his fingers. He drags shaking fingers across her burnt cheek slowly – lovingly – and black skin flakes off at his touch. He howls again, his anguish filling the air and leaving no room for us to breathe.

The rest of the world is silent.

My hands start to shake. My chest constricts as I stare, stare and stare and stare. I'm breathing so fast I can barely feel the air in my lungs. I always knew how fragile Naomi was. She thought I treated her the way I did out of spite, out of some ingrained hatred, but that couldn't be further from the truth. No, I was terrified. Terrified of that faulty heart of hers, afraid that if she tried too hard, if she ran too fast, it would give in and that would be the end of her. And when she did go too hard, I was always the one taking her to the infirmary. I was the one mixing her tea with foxglove and sprinkling it in her food, hoping it would delay the time between her attacks. Why? Because no one else would. Because no one else cared. Nobody wanted to protect her. It was why I put her down all those years, telling her she'd amount to nothing, trying to make her quit while she was ahead. Trying to stop her from pushing herself. I wanted her to surrender and live an easy life where she wouldn't exert herself, where she wouldn't feel she had to prove anything, so long as it kept her alive. I beat her down in an attempt to make her give up, but she never did. She never fucking did. And now she's... she's—

"Dead!" Kohl howls, tilting his face to the sky. His golden eyes brim with tears, glinting in the light of the morning sun. The sun that seems so damn happy despite the tragedy before us. He looks back down to Naomi, his face scrunching with anguish. "She's dead," he hisses, crushing her to his chest. My heart splinters with equal amounts of guilt and pain. And to think I'd spent so much time trying to rip the two apart – all out of pure jealousy – when in reality they loved each other so much. When really, they were made for each other, and I couldn't just accept that Naomi had bested me in something, even if love is not something you can beat anyone in at all. I see that now.