A Dragon's Heart (Book Three in the APK Trilogy)

Chapter 43 | Bittersweet

"I don't know." She bit out, the sentence erupting a little more harshly than intended. She squeezed her cup and tried again. "I don't know. I need to wait for Nathaniel." Nathaniel could decide what to do with the- no, he's not a body, Circe thought fiercely, rejecting her own line of thinking. He's our brother.

Brother.

I don't even know your name.

A scene flashed into the forefront of Circe's mind and she stiffened, unable to dispel the memory as it replayed itself again for the umpteenth time.

Circe's hands running frantically over cold, bloody skin after Nathaniel had been taken by Unabonan to receive treatment back at the ship and she no longer had to present a façade. Desperately transferring energy, the blue light thrumming as it poured ceaselessly into a motionless body. Blue lips. Translucent eyelids concealing ocean eyes. Wet, golden curls, dyed brown with blood.

"Darling, enough." Hands reaching out to stop her. The same hands withdrawing helplessly as she smacked them away.

"I'll decide when it's enough," she had snarled, mindlessly focused on her task. "Stay out of my way."

The wounds had closed. The bones had healed. The bruises vanished. So why? Why!

Her hands were shaking, her heart trembling every time she looked at his face. With Nathaniel momentarily gone from her sight, the similarities between the two were even more obvious. If she hadn't already seen her brother with her own two eyes, she could have been tricked into believing that it was he who lay in front of her now.

Anthemin, help me. Help me!

Her dragon's words, deep with regret. I'm sorry Vanima.

"Don't say your sorry when you haven't even tried," she had told him furiously.

Anthemin had paused and then hesitantly, the dragon had begun to contribute his energy. Fervently, she had redoubled her efforts, but it was like she was pouring water into a bucket with no bottom. Still she had refused to give in, pushing herself further even as her arms began to grow numb.

"Circe."

Ignoring the warning tone, she had gritted her teeth through the pain, her heart burning with a realization she was at loath to acknowledge.

"Enough. He is dead. You're draining yourself dry. It's time to stop."

"He's not dead!" She had howled, resisting the hands that sought to restrain her, to take her away from the person she had already accepted as her own before she even knew him.

But now she would never know him.

They had passed by each other, hands outstretched, almost touching, before he had been ripped away. She had been so close. And that thought of if only, if only she had been faster, if only she had come sooner, burned like acidic bile in her throat and it hurt.

God how it hurt.

She had fought fiercely and for a moment the hold faltered, but then another pair of hands joined the first and pinned her arms to her sides forcefully. She thrashed and twisted but to no avail, a strangled wail tearing from her throat.

"Let me go!"

"I know you don't want to hurt her," Zalas had spat out, over her head, "but if you don't stop her now, she'll only be hurting herself."

"Don't tell me what to do," Obsidian had snarled, but his hold on her had tightened and had he spun her around until she was smothered against his chest and the body of her brother vanished from view. She had beat against him relentlessly, but his grip did not slacken again.