Page 24

She tilts her head, appraising me. I imagine she’s debating whether to stab me again, though I’m too distracted to much notice. My mate is missing, my familiar is unconscious, and blood is pouring out of my abdomen at an alarming rate.

I can barely think over the pain in my gut, yet I have rage to spare. My body is shaking with it. I gather my magic, preparing to strike.

“Ah, ah,” Eislyn says, using the bloody sword tip to tilt my chin up. “Think about harming me, and I’ll drive this sword through your throat, then that of your familiar’s, and you will die never knowing what became of Memnon.”

I go still, terror replacing anger. “Where is he?”

Her eyes flick to the palace to my right for the merest of instants before she casually says, “I thought you were his soul mate. That you could find him through your bond alone.” She tilts her head again. “Apparently not.”

As she speaks, I focus my magic on my gut wound. It’s a lethal wound, but only if it cannot be repaired. Icanrepair it. I’m already clutching it, and now I slowly trickle my power into it. All I have to do is live, then I can save both Memnon and Ferox.

“What did you do to my mate?” I ask.

Eislyn stares down at me stoically. “He will sleep for a hundred years, until all he knows and loves has passed on. When he wakes, all that will be left is me.”

My brows come together, even as I feel the nauseating tug of internal injuries sealing themselves up.

She continues. “I already warned Memnon several times that you would prove treacherous. I told him that a civilized Roman girl like you would never fully accept the warring ways of Sarmatians. That his bloodthirstiness would eventually drive you to do something desperate to stop him from all the killing and conquering. He didn’t believe me then, but I’m sure when he wakes and finds you long gone, he will remember my warnings.”

Eislyn’s words would hold weight with Memnon. She’d been an advisor for Memnon’s father as well as several of the kings who came before him.

“And,” she continues, “I will make sure to tell him how you, his dear mate, made a deal with the Romans for peace and how you couldn’t bear to kill him so you left him to sleep. I’ll make sure he knows that you lived a long life—that you remarried, had children, and you didn’t once try to wake him.”

I can barely breathe over my disbelief. Whoisthis woman?

“He’ll be heartbroken,” she continues, “but in time, he will recover.”

I search her features. “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes glitter, and the corners of her mouth curve into a sly smile. “That’s a secret you’ll have to die without knowing.”

Instinct rather than eyesight has me noticing the infinitesimal shift of Eislyn’s weight and the adjustment of her grip on the sword.

I call on my anger and my power. “Annihilate,” I breathe.

The spell explodes out of me, the power blowing off her sword arm.

Eislyn screams, reaching for the gaping wound at her shoulder. Her wings unfurl, thinner than linen and far more delicate. She uses them to rush herself to the ley line portal.

I’m already gathering the scraps of my magic, readying them in my hand.

“Annihilate.”

Her form disappears a moment before my spell does, though the ley line absorbs it as well.

My breathing is ragged.

Eislyn is gone. For now.

I stare down at the ruin of my abdomen, and I bite back a sob. If there was a baby, the odds of it surviving such a wound…

I have to dig my teeth into my lower lip to keep from screaming. Tears slip down my cheeks.Don’t think about that.Then there’s Ferox…

I reach out a hand and pet my panther. Beneath my touch, my familiar stirs, then turns his head to weakly lick my hand. I strain for enough magic to heal him. It leaves my palm sluggishly, but I sense the spell take root, and it slowly mends my familiar’s injuries. Once I’m sure he’ll be okay, I let my hand slide from him.

Memnon. Need Memnon.

I force myself to stand, and the world goes dark for a moment. Blood loss, this must be blood loss. It physically hurts to draw on more power and funnel it toward the last of my wounds. My magic is tired, reluctant.