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“Do we have a plan?” Khaos asks.

I reach up and tug on the collar. “We torture her until she takes this thing off. Or we just kill her and hope the spell dies with her. Or…” I’ve run out of options. “Hell no. We don’t have a plan.” I blow out my breath. “How about I distract her, keep her talking, you creep in and bang her over the head with something heavy?”

He frowns. I don’t think he’s too impressed with my plan.

“Can you think of anything better?” I ask. Maybe he can. He’s the commander of his father’s armies—or he was. He’s probably really good at strategic stuff.

But all he says is, “No. Go for it.”

So I do.

When I step inside the great hall, Zeryth is standing at the far end of the room, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light. Her lips curl in a smile when she sees me standing in the doorway. It makes my skin crawl.

I stroll around her as though I’m examining the room, peering in the corners, and I do see something that takes my eye. Nightfall is leaning against the wall. I go over and pick her up, swing her a couple of times. Zeryth doesn’t seem in the least concerned that I might chop her head off, and when I do try a closer swing, I hit an invisible barrier so hard that the shock reverberates through my arm. I walk around her slowly and at last, she turns away from the door.

Keep her distracted.

“Why?” I ask.

“Why what?”

“Why did you come with Lucifer? You were working for Khronus, why change sides?”

“I worked for Khronus as a means to an end. It was the only way to get the resources for my research. But Lucifer was my creation. I made him.”

I raise a brow. “I don’t think he sees it that way. From what I’ve seen, he treats you like a servant.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “You’re persistent,” she purrs, changing the subject, her gaze flicking to the collar around my neck. “But not very bright to come here. You should have stayed in your cell where you belong.”

I clench my fists. I can feel the magic in me, screaming to be free, but the collar cuts it off. “Let’s end this,” I growl.

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I’m not.”

At that moment, Khaosti swings his blunt instrument—what looks like a candlestand—unfortunately it hits the same magical shield as Nightfall.

Shit.

She laughs, stretches out her hand, whispers a few words, and whoosh, I’m flying across the room. Grimlet is torn from me, taking a rather large chunk of hair, and I crash into a solid table, finally coming to a painful halt. I lie still while I wait for the pain to ebb. Then I roll off the table and onto my hands and knees.

Khaosti steps in front of Zeryth, teeth bared. “You’ll wish you’d never touched her.”

The sorceress laughs again. “Oh, the wolf thinks he’s dangerous. Pity he’s lost his bite.”

He launches at her, but she’s already moving. A blast of force slams into him mid-air and sends him crashing into the far wall, then to the floor. He groans and pushes to his feet, shaking it off like it’s nothing—but I can tell it’s rattled him.

I rush to his side, heart hammering. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he spits. “Just pissed off.”

We try again—together. I dodge left while he attacks head-on. Grimlet darts through the shadows, trying to distract her with stones and snarling insults. But nothing gets through. She’s too fast for us and her wards are too powerful for any weapons.

Khaosti throws a punch—and she catches it mid-air. Her fingers close around his wrist, and he snarls, trying to break free, but she leans in close, her smile too calm.

“You’re nothing without your beast,” she whispers. “Your power is dead.”

His face twists. Rage flares in his eyes—but underneath, I see it: doubt.