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Sorin’s chambers were larger than his luxury apartment. They were in the main living area, adorned with a large dining table on one end, plush couches and chairs in the center, and a piano on the other end. His large bedroom and nearly as large private bath were through a door behind them. There was also a large study, an extra bedroom, a bedroom he’d turned into a small library, and another bath.

“You said Eliza was powerful,” she rasped slowly.

“She is.” Dread began coiling in his stomach. “Lay back, Scarlett.”

“But she is not more powerful than you.”

“No, she is not.”

“Who…who is more powerful than you in the Fire Court, Sorin?”

“Lay back, Scarlett,” he said quietly again. “Let Beatrix—”

He felt the cold creep along his legs first. He looked down and saw ice forming along the floor, starting at Scarlett and working its way out, its radius growing. He placed a hand on the floor, palm down, and willed heat through it, trying to slow the spread, but his magic was tapped out. He could feel her power— strong, unyielding,and limitless. His own magic danced alongside hers, but the shadows wouldn’t let it get any closer.

“Cyrus and Rayner, get them the hell out of here,” he said, gritting his teeth at the effort to hold back her magic.

“Sorin—” Cyrus said again.

“She nearly froze my blood along with an entire damn beach yesterday,” Sorin snarled. “Get them out, Cyrus.”

“We are not leaving our prince alone in here with power like that. Not after you’ve finally returned home—”

Darkness exploded.

It rippled out from Scarlett in an endless wave of shadows. They were all thrown back from her. He heard crashes as some were shoved into tables and thrown against walls. He could see nothing through the thick dark. Shields of flame sprung up from Cyrus.

“Find the mortals and get them out, Cyrus,” Sorin yelled into the dark.

“No,” came the answering growl.

“It is not a request. It is an order from your Prince,” Sorin snarled. “If a mortal prince is killed here, Talwyn will have my ass.”

The shadows and darkness were sucked from the room as quickly as they had appeared. Rayner was next to Beatrix, a shield of smoke and ash around the Healer. Her violet eyes were looking curiously from Sorin to Scarlett. Finn and Sloan had shoved Callan back against a wall. Sorin couldn’t even see Callan’s face. Cyrus was stalking towards Sorin, his sword drawn and his gaze fixed on Scarlett, who was…

Who was on her feet, her silver eyes luminous now. Flames and ice swirled around her, and her shadows slithered along the floor like snakes.

“Do not take one step closer,” Sorin gritted out to Cyrus, who froze mid-step. Her wound was still visible, still steadily trickling blood, but more shadows were converging there, too, seeming to form a dark dressing.

“Scarlett,” he said slowly, as if trying not to frighten a child, “I know you have questions. I know you are upset.” The ice on the floor spread quicker,spiderwebbing out and up objects around the room.

The door swung open as Briar appeared, panting. Amaré had done his job well, and judging by the little spots of blood on Briar’s face and arms, had pecked at him to pick up his pace. But the arrival of yet another stranger had startled Scarlett. Daggers of ice were at the throats of everyone present, halted only by Briar’s reflexes and years of training.

“Sorin, I am going to need some direction here,” Briar said from the doorway, his hands raised to keep the daggers at bay.

“Right now, I need everyone to just keep their godsdamn mouths shut,” Sorin snapped. “No one move and no one speak, and when I give a fucking order, I need it followed. Is that clear, Cyrus?”

He saw a muscle in his Second’s jaw flex, but he answered gruffly, “Yes, Prince.”

Sorin took a deep breath then slowly raised his hand and wrapped it around the ice dagger at his throat, wrenching it from the air and tossing it to the floor where it shattered. He took slow steps towards Scarlett, and when he was close enough to reach out and touch her, her shadows lunged for him, tight cords wrapping around his arms, winding up to his throat.

“Hey, Love,” he said softly. Those silver eyes that had been sweeping over the room, the people, everything, settled back onto him, and what radiated from them squeezed something in his chest so tightly he nearly vomited right there.

Hatred. Pure and undiluted hatred.

“Ask it, Scarlett. I can handle it. I can take what you need to say to me.”

“You do not answer to the Fire Prince because…”