Page 167

“You underestimate her,” Landers said, his voice low and dangerous as he advanced another step toward Oryn.

My eyes fell to the movement at my ankle, watching as the manacles unclasped. I steadied myself against the weight of Cyloe’s glamoured form as she scaled the side of my body and down my arms, working to get the last of my bindings free.

They fell from my wrists, clashing against the marble floor as the High Priestesses finally began their descent from the dais.

They were calm—too calm.

Unease began to rise in my chest with every step they took toward us. Something was wrong. Something was off about them.

Kill them, I ordered through the tendrils of magic wrapped around the minds of the guards.

But they didn’t move.

I pushed the command down the flow of power again, but still, they did not listen. Blood drained from my features as the High Priestesses took their last steps to flank Oryn and a smile slithered across his face.

“I believe you are the only one who has not had the pleasure of meeting our High Priestesses,” Oryn said, his smile deepening. “May I introduce Varah and Sovana.”

Varah lowered her hood first, silver hair falling from beneath its fabric and framing her aged face. Her eyes were haunting as if they did not truly belong to her. I swallowed as my eyes turned to Sovana. She was younger, but her skin still showed signs of weathering almost as if it had happened prematurely. Her eyes held the same hollow stare as Varah, and I forced myself not to recoil from them.

“Thank you for the demonstration,” Varah sang, her voice younger than it should’ve been. The muscles across Landers’s bare chest rippled at the sound, tensing as he took a small step toward me. “We were informed that the ancient blood of Dymere runs through your veins. We needed to see just how strong your magic was, how big of a threat you would be for what comes next. The show was a disappointment really, all that magic gone to waste on someone who has not learned to hone it. You are powerful, I can feel it, but you do not know how to use it.”

Sovana flicked her wrist and my invisible threads of power shattered, the wall around Dukovich and Landers’s minds crumbling like sand. The connection to the guards and nobles snapped, their minds slipping from my grasp. A gasp tore from my throat at the sudden loss, my head throbbing with the backlash.

“Now,” Varah started, “where has this lovely familiar of yours gone?”

My heart seized at her question as her eyes locked on Dukovich. A groan slipped from his lips as the glamour around Cyloe dissipated. She stood beside me, her wolf form massive and imposing. A low growl rumbled from her chest as she bared her fangs.

“Looks like you have found your calling, Oryn,” Dukovich snarled as he pushed to his feet. “You are a better actor than you are High Priest.”

Oryn grinned. “Ahh, I do love the theater and this one was so easy to manipulate.” Oryn’s hand reached for me, but Landers’s fingers cut through the air, clasping around his wrist as he pulled me behind him.

Sovana giggled the sound, unhinged—manic—as it sliced through the silent room. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you . . .” she squeaked out as another giggle glided off her lips. Oryn snatched his wrist away from Landers as Sovana pushed her ruby hairover her shoulder, the color exacerbating the glow of her pale skin.

“You know what is so fun about Ammord?” Sovana asked, her tone dancing with childlike amusement. “It doesn’t matter what magic you have, how powerful a wielder you are, because all we have to do is slip into your mind and tell you not to use it.” Another giggle collided with the air as she twirled around us, her robes fanning at her ankles. “That’s what makes us special, why she chose us.”

This woman was fucking insane.

“I see why you’re the mouthpiece of Ammord,” I snapped my eyes landing on Oryn.

“That wasn’t a very kind thing to say,” Sovana whined, her lips pursing into a pout as her arms slid across her chest. “For every mean thing you say to me, I do something mean back.”

A scream split the air on the tail of her words and my heart fell into the pit of my stomach at the sound. Dukovich’s hands shot toward his head, his fingers tangling and tearing into his hair as he collapsed to the ground, writhing against the marble in agony.

My knees buckled under me, my vision blurring as static built between my ears with every cry that fled his lungs.

No.No.

I wouldn’t let them hurt him.

I couldn’t let them hurt him.

The cold marble bit into my knees as they crashed against it, my lungs closing, suffocating me as the image of Ardan’s mangled body flashed behind my eyes. This felt too familiar.

I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t lose another person.

He didn’t get to die.

He didn’t get to fucking die on me.