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Skye adjusted his grip on his sword, groaning when the tendons of his arm sparked with pain. Carin had stabbed him twice in the ribs and once in the gut, but the wounds should’ve healed by now. He channeled a bit more aether, but—

Why wasn’t he healing?

“It will be a slight inconvenience replacing Lady Fenmar, but” —Vaughn smiled— “I suppose we have you now, don’t we? The simulacrum was a bit crude, but as long as you have the aptitude for bloodcraft, the rest can be taught.”

Skye didn’t reply. Merely kept his sword raised as Vaughn began to circle him. The pain was spreading, and he was still bleeding. He could feel his aether start to dip.

“To be honest,” Vaughn said, “we were starting to think you weren’t going to look for the girl. We knew you were the key, of course. One more week, however, and my master was going to have you seized, and I doubt your pretty little bondmate would’ve liked that very much.”

Skye’s stomach churned. There was no way this man could’ve known about the bond. No way he could’ve known who or what she was.

Unless…

“I was there,” Vaughn clarified, no doubt reading the shock in his expression. “When she projected. Little thing probably thought she was dying with so much magic pouring out of her. I suspect she went to say her goodbyes.”

Vaughn was still circling. And Skye let him, keeping an eye on the door. Trying to ignore the rising pain.

“Whether you know it or not, we are atwar,” Vaughn said, hands clasped behind his back. “There is a plague moving through our ranks. A sickness that could kill us all. Fewer and fewer of our kind are born each year, and yet the Genesis Council has done nothing. They sit on their thrones, watching as we allow our fellow fey to breed with those Shardlessbeasts, all in some vain attempt to pad our ranks with half-blood imposters.”

Those yellow eyes flared. “My master is the only one willing to do what must be done. He has given us a way forward, a promise for the future, and your bondmate is going to help him deliver us. With a time mage, we can solve this problem once and for all.”

“Taly will never help you,” Skye bit out. The pain continued to blaze, setting his blood on fire and pulsing like a second heart. “And neither will I.”

“Are you sure about that?”

A beat of confusion, and then—

Skye’s grip on his sword began to slacken, the strength leaching from his body.

That snake’s smile widened. “Let me put it this way.”

Weakness pulled at Skye’s arms and legs, rapidly spreading into every cell and fiber. His sword clattered to the ground.Poison,he thought, trying not to let the panic take root. The pain, his wounds—Carin’s dagger must have been tipped with poison.

So he began to push back. It was eating away at his aether, but he pushed back. There were ways to clear poison from the blood—withbloodcraft. He only needed to figure out how to shape the spell, how to—

Vaughn kicked the sword away, and the clang of metal against tile thundered in Skye’s ears as he tried but failed to rein in his aether. His magic was crushing in on him, lurching out of his control and threatening to devour every shred of sense.

Vaughn said, “You only have two choices, boy.”

The pain spread beneath his skin like a living fire, and the world went in and out of focus. Skye stumbled, swaying on his feet. But still pushing.

“One,” Vaughn continued, so calm, so collected, “you come with us, and convince your bondmate to do the same.”

The blood was flowing out of him in a steady stream, draining his magic and leaching the color from his skin. It pooled on the floor around him, so garishly red against the snowy white tile.

No.

He kept pushing. Against the pain, against the poison.

Somehow, he found his feet. Somehow, he pulled a pistol from his belt.

Only to double over, groaning at the fist that slammed into his gut. He fell to his knees, but Vaughn caught him, twisting his fingers in his hair and jerking his head up.

“Or two,” Vaughn said, still smiling that small, horrible smile as he wrenched Skye’s head back so far that he was sure he felt something snap. “We ascend you.” He held up a vial filled with something sickly and red.

Skye sputtered as the vial was tipped into this mouth. More poison. He felt his remaining strength stutter.

“I will personally carve out a piece of your soul,” Vaughn went on, “placing you under my thrall, and then we’ll use you to make sure that little chit of a girl doesn’t give us any more trouble.”