She was held tight in the grip of a fear she’d never known. Terror that tore at the fabric of her soul. Now that he was unconscious, the music had ceased its chaotic song. She should have killed him. Should have run the blade through his heart and let the dagger take the magic that infected his body. The thought of taking his life had filled her with a sorrow so deep and so intense that she’d felt it in the very marrow of her bones. He was a stranger and yet, since the night he’d tackled her in that parking lot, she couldn’t conceive of being parted from him. She’d sworn she could feel his pain as the magic took its hold. Even now, her arms were slow to move and her legs ached with a bone-deep chill. How could the magic contained in his body sing to her with such pitch-perfect clarity one moment and become so corrupt the next? She cradled his head in her lap as she combed her fingers through the locks of his tawny hair. The song quieted to a gentle melody and Naya hummed along to a tune she’d never heard but instinctually knew every note of.
