Never make it in time . . . It had been her fear from the beginning, and it now pounded through her head in an awful refrain. She had run out of time. Malette had won. At least she could tell herself that she had gone down swinging, that she hadn’t given up, had fought to the bitter end.
Nigel sank onto the floor next to the ashes. “She’s dead.” He exhaled quietly.
Isla’s brain spun in a million different directions and then seemed unable to grasp even the simplest of things. Her head ached in a pounding she was afraid would never subside.
“Isla?” Daniel touched her arm gently.
The deep wounds in her shoulders where the dragon’s claws had dug throbbed, and her feet ached from her tromp through the jungle.
Isla looked up at the storm-darkened sky. Even without seeing the moon rise, she could feel how fast midnight was approaching. She thought back to the night before when she’d been sleeping under tree roots. So much had transpired in twenty-four hours; it had felt like an eternity.
Lewis turned a page in Malette’s spell book and ran his finger over the words. “Perhaps not all is lost. Malette’s instructions here at the end say that once the curse has put you to sleep one last time, you must receive a drop of blood and a kiss from ‘one who loves you equally.’ If we can reach a loved one, perhaps?” He looked up, a note of hope in his voice.
Isla stared at remaining ash and dust, but in her mind, she still saw Malette’s eyes, which seemed to laugh at her from beyond the grave. “That’s what she meant,” she mumbled, numb. “I’ll never find the last ingredient because it doesn’t exist. Not for me.”
“I’ll telescribe Samson,” Daniel said, fumbling in his pockets. “Tell him to bring the Briar Rose airship closer. We’ll leave immediately. The engine—perhaps I can find an extra accelerant of some sort to use. The propellers are already turning at their maximum speed, and we’d have to fly around the storm—hope to catch a better wind—but we’re much faster in the air than on the ocean . . . If I push her to her limits, we could make it to England in—”
“Weeks,” Isla said softly.
The four of them fell silent.
Isla looked at Daniel. Tears pooled and spilled over, and she cried softly, fearing her heart would break. Malette was still in her head, insisting nobody loved her enough to break the curse, and fate was wretched beyond all measure because she’d fallen in love with Daniel Pickett and he was too kind. She’d thought when Malette was going to kill her that she should have told him she loved him, but now she realized it was an unfair burden to place upon him. He would try to break the curse for her and because his feelings weren’t the same as hers, it wouldn’t work. He’d never forgive himself.
A clock in the library sounded midnight’s first chime. It echoed throughout the dark hall, mingling with the steady thrum of rain. Her physical pain was so thorough and familiar by now she’d grown accustomed to it. She didn’t even feel the cold anymore.
The chiming continued, like a death knell.
Lewis shook his head, riffling through the diary pages. “Something, there must be something . . .” he murmured.
Isla released a shuddering sob, unwilling to admit defeat, and yet she felt the lethargy stealing upon her even as stood there.
Daniel gathered her close. “Isla, you’re safe,” he whispered and wiped her tears. “I’ll stay here with you, nothing will happen to you. I promise.”
She turned her face into his neck. There was so much in her heart and so little time to express it. “Daniel,” she said, “I cannot tell you how much . . .” Her voice broke, and she shuddered. “It is too late,” she whispered.
Daniel’s expression hardened. “No,” he said. “We will find a way. I will not quit. I will never stop.” He cradled her head with his hand and rocked back and forth.
The chiming clock continued, and as the darkness encroached, she clutched a fistful of his shirt. She didn’t want to miss a moment with him, and the nothing was taking her again.
“No!” She cried despite her resolve to be strong. There were too many things she wanted to say, too much left to do. “No . . .” Her voice faltered, and she registered the familiar heaviness in her arms and legs.
Daniel’s embrace tightened. “We will find a way,” he whispered in her ear. “I will save you, Isla. I will never, ever stop.”