Fae Crown (Royals of Embermere Book 4) by Lucía Ashta
Author:Lucía Ashta [Ashta, Lucía]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lucía Ashta
Published: 2024-07-27T00:00:00+00:00
13. BY BLISTERINGLY HOT SUNSHINE AND A DRAGONâS BARBED DICK
ELOWYN
Iâd been not just wrong, but dead wrong.
As it turned out, I was very much alive. A searing agony that stung even my eyeballs consumed what felt like every part of my body. I couldnât help but be alive, desperate as I was to escape the pain, which was everywhere all at once, awful and unrelenting. I feared Iâd never again be the same even after it abated. A pain of this magnitude probably changed a person forever.
I teetered on the threshold of a transformation I feared would be permanent. What the change exactly might be, however, I didnât knowâunless it was death. Death hovered so close by it was like a scent on the wind, luring me nearer.
A wave of what might have been actual fire raced across my torso and limbs, surely charring what remained of my battered flesh, and I clenched my eyes tighter against it. By sunshine, could this please end? Please. Fucking please.
Maybe I was dead after all, in the Igneuslands. It would be some major dragonshit that I should end up there when my sins didnât seem great enough to warrant it, but why else would even my hair hurt? My nails and teeth? They werenât ever supposed to hurt. What the ever-agonizing fuck was this misery?
My next inhale was deeper but it gurgled. That couldnât be good.
Finally, I forced open my eyes, if for nothing else than to see where Iâd landed before I did die.
A pained moan shuddered through the unfamiliar dimness for several moments before I realized it wasnât mine.
I tried to sit, but succeeded only in crumpling into myself, pain surging in another strong wave as if in punishment for even that lame attempt. Once the worst of it passed, pink tinged my vision on one side, but that must be my own blood and not my surroundings.
I lay sprawled across a dirt floor. A hazy light streamed above me, its rays highlighting dancing dust particles, and for several moments just noticing something beyond my pain was significant. Tears stung my already stinging eyes as I found hope that Iâd again feel something that wasnât pain.
Youâre losing it, I chided myself.
Another moan arrived, this one dragging out, as I slowly, carefully, tipped my head to either side.
Laden burlap sacks leaned against a wall on one side, crates piled two high on the other. The walls were a wood so coarse that light shone through boards in dappled seams and knotholes. Strangely, I found beauty, too, in that show of light and shadow.
The moan sounded again, more insistent this time.
I nudged open my mouth, but pain lanced my jaw so forcefully I nearly blacked out. Quickly, I clamped my lips and tried splaying my palms flat against the ground and pushing up. I rose a foot before collapsing back onto the ground. Both palms felt as if the skin had been flayed from them. When I finally was able to raise one in front of my face, the entirety of it was coated in blood and now dust.
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