Page 166

“I know exactly where my place is. And it’s not bowing to you or anyone else in this fucking room.”

“Enough of this,” one of the High Priestesses snapped impatiently and my eyes darted toward the sound of her voice. “Let us get on with it, we have wasted enough time already.”

Oryn’s gaze flickered to the High Priestesses flanking his throne. “What do you think, ladies? Shall we show our guests the hospitality of the House of High?”

The women’s lips curved into matching cruel smiles. “I think a demonstration is in order,” one of them purred, her voice like poisoned honey. “To remind them of theirplace.”

Oryn nodded, a wicked gleam in his eye. He turned back to Landers, still kneeling proudly despite the chains anchoring him to the ground.

“What do you want?” Dukovich hissed and Oryn’s focus snapped to him.

“I want to know where your little God is, I want you to end this war before it has begun and hand her and Locdragoon over. But your King here has already assured me that will never happen—has promised me none of you will give me what I want.” A dramatic sigh left Oryn’s lips before he spoke again. “So now, you are nothing more than bait. I hear your God has a badhabit of rushing in to save this one.” He pointed a bony finger toward me. “We do not need any of you alive to lure her here. Just the thought of you in our hands will do the trick—I’ve been assured as much.”

My teeth clenched at his words.

There was no one outside of our circle that knew Cin well enough to make such assurances. Someone—someone close, was betraying us.

My stomach knotted at the thought, bile rising but I swallowed it back.

“I can fucking promise you,” I started, my words daggers as they spilled from my mouth. “She will be angry if you kill me, but if you kill her—”

“Hyacinth is a God, Oryn,” Landers cut me off, his eyes flashing to mine. “If you kill Ataliia, if you harm a single hair on her head, even death will not bring you peace.” Landers looked to me again and it clicked.

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know about the ceremony.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Oryn sent a blast of magic slamming into Landers’s mind and my body shuddered from the impact of his power colliding with my shields.

It worked.

It fucking worked.

I pushed back the smile that crept onto my lips and breathed against the second round of magic Oryn shot at Landers.

It was time.

I sent my silent commands trickling through the room, orders to all the minds I held in my clenched fist. From the corner of my eye, I watched as Cyloe scurried through the crowd of silent nobles, climbing onto the windowsill in the far corner in her rat form and pulling at the keys hanging from the guards belt. Helooked down, unfastening the set of keys and handing them to her, obeying without question.

Another impact of magic slammed into my mind and I dragged my eyes back to Oryn. The force rattled through my bones, but still, my magic did not yield. Confusion flickered across Oryn’s face for a split second before he composed himself. He tried again, putting more power behind the attack and I forced myself not to groan against the pain it sent thrumming through my head.

A faint shimmer glimmered in my peripheral just as Cyloe’s body disappeared into thin air. Slowly, I dragged my eyes to Dukovich and he dipped his chin just enough to confirm what he had done.

Oryn’s gaze snapped to me, suspicion seeping into his features as understanding dawned. “You,” he hissed, stalking toward me. “You are doing this, blocking me somehow.”

I smiled then, a cold, vicious thing. “Surprise.”

In unison, every guard drew their sword on the tail of my words, pointing them toward their leaders as the High Priestesses shot from their thrones. Oryn stumbled backward as the guards took a step toward him.

Fear flashed in Oryn’s irises as the manacles at Landers’s wrists clattered to the ground.

“What have you done?” Oryn demanded, his voice rising with panic.

Landers’s arms lifted slowly, painfully, as his fingers wrapped around the iron crown and pulled it from his head. His power pulsed beside me, flowing back into him as he freed himself from the chains and rose from his knees.

Dukovich’s bindings were next, falling from his wrists as the horror on Oryn’s face deepened.

A sinister chuckle rolled from Landers’s mouth as he took a step forward. He was weak—I could see it in the stiffness of his movements. He had been bound in iron for too long.