The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

much that meant to me, even when I thought I hated him—
even when I wanted to hate him? I think I did, but it didn’t
feel like it was enough. And there was more. I wanted one
more kiss. One more smile. I wanted to see his stupid
dimples again, and I wanted to kiss them. I wanted to prove
to him that he was worthy of me, of love and life, no matter
what had happened in his past or what he’d done. But, oh
gods, there wasn’t enough time.
I pushed past the panic and the fading, drowning
feeling, the sensation that none of this felt real. My lips
moved. I made them, but no sound came out.
Casteel…broke.
He threw back his head and roared. He roared, and the
sound echoed around us, through me. Under me, the stone
cracked and opened. Thick, ropey roots spilled out, the color
of ash. Kieran fell back on his ass as they came down over
my legs, over Casteel’s back. A tree grew. It grew so fast.
Lightning tore through the sky again, one strike after
another, turning night to day as thick, glistening bark
stretched high, forming hundreds of branches. Tiny golden
buds sprouted, filling the branches. They blossomed,
unfurling into blood-red leaves.
Casteel’s head snapped down, his eyes feral and lost as
they’d been the morning he woke from the nightmare. He
caught one of the roots as it fell over my stomach and
stared at it for a moment before he broke it, tossing it aside.
“I cannot let you go. I won’t. Not now. Not ever.” His hand
moved to my cheek, but I barely felt it. “Kieran, I need you
to pull the bolt out. I—I can’t—” His voice shattered. “I need
you. I can’t do that.”
“You’re going to…” Kieran rocked forward. “Fuck. Yeah.
Okay.” He tore through the roots. “Let’s do this.”
Do…do what?
Kieran gripped the bolt. “Good gods, forgive us,” he
uttered. “You’ve got to be fast. You’ll have seconds if you’re
lucky, and then…”