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“I’m not letting your filthy mouth anywhere near me,” I snarl at him, throwing out my arm. “Cut me with a knife if you have to.”

He frowns and grumbles something to himself before he draws his sword from his sheath. Holding the open jar underneath my arm, he makes a deft cut with the sword’s tip, right across my inner forearm. I suck in my breath and watch as a bit of blood trickles into the glass, certainly not at all like the first time he did it.

Then, he takes the glass and swirls the blood with the other contents before putting it under my lips. “You know what to do. You must drink it all.”

I make a face. “It’s vile.”

“As am I,” he says grimly. “And magic takes on its maker. Drink.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ll give you in return?”

“Well, last time, you promised me your body and soul forever,” he says, clearing his throat. “And look how that turned out.”

“And you promised you would hunt me down, that the magic would ensure you’d find me, no matter how long it took.”

He nods. “As it did.”

“You also said I wouldn’t want you to find me,” I add.

“Are you arguing with that, little fish?” he asks idly.

I ignore the pang in my heart at the sound of my nickname and give my head a shake. “No.”

But I’m lying.

And he knows it too.

“Then drink,” he says.

I take the jar from his hands this time, try not to breathe out of my nose, then drink the contents back.

“Caudam capio et tibi pedes dabo,” he begins to chant while I focus on not vomiting. “Vocem capio et servitutem tibi trado.”

Somehow, I manage to swallow the disgusting liquid down while Priest continues chanting, and I’m just about to ask if that’s all there is to it or if he’s going to bite me like last time when he reaches forward, palming the side of my head and exposing my neck.

“Aragon, no!” Maren yells at him, like he’s being reprimanded.

But Priest doesn’t listen, and I have enough time to grip the sides of the tub, the empty jar falling into the water as I brace myself for his bite. It’s as strong as I remember, his fangs sinking deep as he pulls back my blood into my mouth like he’s ravenous.

I gasp from the pain, but pleasure soon takes over, and I find myself sinking into the tub, slipping into oblivion in a rushing stream of red.

“My Gods,” I hear Ramsay whisper.

Then, I start to feel it.

Beyond Priest’s feeding is another sensation, this one deep inside and strangely familiar. The feeling of bones being broken apart from the inside.

Suddenly, I’m screaming as the pain tears through my body, and Priest stops drinking from me. I glimpse at him standing back beside Ramsay and Maren, his mouth bloody, watching in awe as I begin to transform.

I pinch my eyes shut, my body writhing, water sloshing over the side of the tub, the world twisting and spinning in hot waves, like I’m being born again, bursting from the broken shell of my ribs.

I am not me anymore.

I am someone else.

I am everything else.

I am magic.