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“You can’t win against magic.”

With a flick of his fingers, he cast a spell. I froze as every part of my body seized. The dagger slipped from my fingers, landing harmlessly against the carpeted floor. Sweatdripped down my back as I tried to force my legs to move. But no matter how I tried, nothing worked.

“I don’t normally reveal my magic,” he admitted. “Poor form for a spymaster to give up his secrets. But since you’re dying, it hardly matters.”

“Poi… son…” My tongue was too large in my mouth, the word barely scraping through my teeth.

He strolled over to where I stood, helpless, twirling his blade in his hand. “Yes, Samara. That card was made with my own magic.”

He plunged his blade into my chest.

Chapter Forty-Eight

White pain exploded insideme, blocking out my vision.

A muffled sound as I fell, my ears ringing too loudly to process what was happening.

Dying.I’m dying.

Blood pooled on top of me, the warm liquid soaking my dress. Inside, an inescapable cold bloomed.

There was nothing but the pain. The white turned to black as my eyes shut, unable to focus.

“No!” A roar. Terrifying, vicious, animalistic. It cut through the haze of pain.

I wanted to turn my head and see the source, but any movement was impossible. Because ofthe poison, or because I was already dead, my spirit slowly detaching from my body…

Numbness coated my senses. Everything was distant.

There was a thunderous crash and a shrill scream.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel my limbs, my torso. My eyelids flickered, lights flashing in my periphery.

“Don’t do this!” he snarled. “Don’t you dare leave me like this.”

The imperious tone… if I could have moved my lips, they might have twitched. As if this had been my choice. Or maybe it was. Somewhere along the way, I’d made a decision and put it all in motion.

“Samara.” My name was a plea. I’d gone so many years without hearing my name, and yet he used it over and over. I was grateful for that. The fact the last time I’d hear it wouldn’t be from the hate-fueled spymaster.

“I’m… sor… ry…” It took incalculable effort to offer that.

“No, Samara. I’m sorry, because I fear you’ll never forgive me for this.”

What was he saying?

I thought I could feel nothing anymore, but then…

Pain.

My neck ached sharply, more acute than I should have felt in my state.

Then, at my lips, something hot. Wet.

No. He didn’t.

He’dpromised. The one thing I’d ever asked him to vow.

“Don’t… do… this…” I gasped through coated lips.