Red Seas Under Red Skies (Gentleman Bastard, #2)

by Scott Lynch

Locke heard the sounds of new fighting breaking out behind them, and thought briefly of paying attention to it, but then realized that if he left Jean now he would never forgive himself. Or deserve forgiveness. “Dear gods,” he whispered when he saw her, “please, no. Oh, gods.” Jean moaned, sobbing, his hands held out above her. Locke didn’t know where he would have touched her, either. There was so little her left—skin and clothing and hair burnt into one awful texture. And still she moved, trying feebly to rise. Still she fought for something resembling breath. “Valora,” said Scholar Treganne, hobbling toward them. “Valora don’t, don’t touch—” Jean pounded the deck and screamed. Treganne knelt beside what was left of Ezri, pulling a dagger from her belt sheath. Locke was startled to see tears trailing down her cheeks. “Valora,” she said. “Take this. She’s dead already. She needs you, for the gods’ sake.”