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And my magic was already reaching out again, softness for movement, draining the velvety plushness from my shirt. Spooling into the hollow inside of that throne. Dragging out, with a single burst of godsworn power, what I’dknownI would find inside that tomb she never let out of sight …

The two of us.

The Mother, who discarded even her lovers and children like used rags … What would she ever guard so fiercely butherself?

It looked like it was sleeping, the body my magic yanked out from beneath her seat.

I caught just a single glimpse. Closed eyes. Black wings. Bronze skin and raven-black hair, none of them yet whitened by magic exhausting the colours …

One glimpse, and then the second half of the Mother smacked into my arms with all the force of my soft magic, her lifeless weight sending us both sprawling on the floor in a tangle of limbs and wings. I landed on bones and fragments of ivory, sharp edges sticking into my legs, my back, my shoulders, the pain blurring my sight for a fraction of an instant.

But I had my hands around her neck.

And below my fingers, her pulse was unmistakable.

‘My body!’ one of the Mother’s voices cried out above me, voice ragged with hysteria. ‘My body!’

I rolled over, just in time to see the flash of white as she dove at me – colliding midway with the silvery streak of a throwing knife. Creon. A shrill laugh escaped me as I forced myselfupright, hauling Melinoë’s body with me – Creon, who may still be bound, but who had made no bargain to keep his blades away from her.

Not useless.

Definitely not useless.

She only just avoided the dagger, landing five strides away from me amidst the rubble of bones and marble. Her face … Expressions seemed to flicker across her features like dancing flames, two souls fighting for control – fury, fear, desperate attempts to regain composure. Her voice was similarly scattered. ‘You—My body— Emelin, don’t you—Let go of— Listen—’

‘I didn’t fully catch that,’ I said, and there was no stopping the maniacal grin growing on my face with my fingers digging into the faint pulse at her throat. ‘Could you be a little clearer, perhaps?’

Another of Creon’s knives came whizzing her way. She only just managed to slap it from the air in a burst of red magic, even her limbs jerking indecisively back and forth as she spat, ‘Leave – our – body –alone!’

I reached for Feather in response.

‘No!’ She had to jump back to avoid yet another dagger. ‘No, you can’t! Youcan’t! You made a bargain – you—’

‘To not do bodily harm,’ I readily agreed, grinning at her – at that sapphire eye that could pop from her face any moment.Blue eyes is Achlys, Agenor had told me months ago at the Golden Court.Black eyes is Melinoë. They’re inhabiting what was originally Achlys’s body.‘No harm tothatbody, more specifically. Didn’t you realise I was talking to you, Achlys?’

‘You insolent little—’ she started, sputtering, and then Melinoë’s voice broke through again – ‘Get away from my body you—’

Feather slid from its sheath so easily.

And my bargain mark didn’t sting – didn’t give the faintest twinge – as I calmly, meticulously settled the alf steel edge against that sleeping throat.

The Mother roared – Melinoë’s voice, I thought at first, and only then did I see the knife blooming from her chest, inches away from her heart. She’d been too distracted to dodge it. Was it going to be this easy, then? One more well-aimed blade and—

‘No!’ she howled, staggering back, yanking the weapon from her chest and dropping it as if the hilt was burning hot. ‘Dosomething, you fools! If we die, all of you will die with us! If you wish to live …’

For one moment, I thought she’d lost her mind.

Then the gem-eyed puppets around the wall jerked into movement.

Fuck – how was that even possible? She had bargained not to harm us, hadn’t she? And yet dozens and dozens of fae and humans came lurching towards us without any sign of pain, limbs jerking but unblinking gem eyes trained on me … In a panicked reflex, I let go of Melinoë’s throat, pressed my left hand against her black wing, and let loose another wave of red magic. A handful of her pawns went down. The others didn’t even slow.

A burst of red flashed back at me as the fae among them began firing.

Fuck.Fuck. I winced as a flare hit my sword arm, thoughts bolting. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who could play tricks with words; apparently there was enough of a mind left in her victims that our bargain countedthemas the attackers … And attack they did, violent intent obvious in every curled lip and clawing finger, even the humans among them looking more like caged animals now.

Alyra soared down, shrieking, claws sinking into every throat and nose she could reach. Creon’s blades stopped three, four, five attackers. Still dozens more kept coming, approaching meon all sides – ready to drag the limp body from my arms and tear me apart. I could fight, of course … but I’d have to let go of Melinoë. Of my best bargaining chip.

Fuck.