All Just Glass - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [39]
Bit by bit, she subdued the poison. Now that Michael’s magic was feeding Kristopher instead of killing him, Kristopher’s own power was able to help heal the wound.
At last, Sarah turned to Nikolas to say, “He’ll live. He’ll need to rest, and feed when he wakes, but he’ll live.”
Nikolas nodded, and then it was like that wasn’t enough. He pulled her close and kissed her. Through Kristopher, whose mind was still open to her and tightly linked to his brother’s, she could sense the overwhelming wash of emotion: protectiveness, gratitude, relief, maybe even love. It was like a reflection on a stream, not as clear as the thoughts she could normally hear from Kristopher, but a background hum Nikolas wasn’t trying to hide from her. She didn’t want to shut it out, because in that instant she was feeling exactly the same way. Whatever she felt about Kristopher, she did not want him to die for her.
And whatever she felt for Kristopher, she probably shouldn’t be kissing his brother.
“Thank you,” Nikolas said when she pulled back. There was no sense of guilt in his mind about the kiss. Did he know something she didn’t know about Kristopher’s feelings for her? Or did he just know that Kristopher wouldn’t mind, regardless of his relationship with Sarah?
She had to block out the echoes of thought. It was too much to think about and try to dissect these relationships in the middle of everything else.
“It was my fault Kristopher was hurt,” she said.
“It was our choice to come for you,” he replied. “We argued over whether or not you had the right to end your own life. We decided it didn’t matter if you did have the right. We weren’t going to let you go through with it.”
Argued. These brothers did not argue, not with each other. Their paths had diverged only once, when Kristopher had chosen to stay with his sister to help her through a difficult time. Otherwise they were always so similar. Sarah’s impression had been that Nikolas tended to defer to his brother.
“Out of curiosity,” she asked, “what side of the argument were you on?”
Nikolas hesitated. Maybe he thought she might think less of him for believing that they shouldn’t ride to her rescue.
“I argued that it was selfish and cowardly to turn yourself over to the hunters,” he said softly. “You are a protector. You are not a Vida anymore, but you are still a guardian to those who need you. Your despair is not sufficient to erase that responsibility.”
“That wasn’t why I did it,” she responded. “I would never abandon a duty just because it was hard. I didn’t want other people—”
“I’ve seen many people die in the last century and a half,” Nikolas interrupted. “The one thing I know for certain is that after you are gone, you lose any power to decide what other people do. Will they kill for you? Will they die for you? Will they fight to avenge you? That is never your choice.”
It was the people who might kill or die for her if she lived who worried her. “What about the humans who come to you and Kristopher to die?” she asked. “Do they get the same talk about whether they have the right to end their lives?”
“They come to us because they see no other choice,” Nikolas replied. “When we can, we give them options. I have counseled plenty who come to me seeking an end, sent many home, and given others new lives. Some I can only help one way.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Do me a favor, Sarah. If you must end your life, at least do it yourself. Do not force your once kin to slay you, and do not force my brother and me to decide if we must take on the entire race of witches to avenge you. And do it somewhere that I will find your body, instead of my brother. I cleaned up my father’s bloody corpse so Kristopher would not see. I can do the same for you.”
Only from Nikolas could those words sound sincere, instead of like a ploy to elicit guilt and submission. Sarah knew he meant every word.
At last, what he had said earlier sank in. Kristopher and Nikolas had come to save her, despite knowing she had