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I laugh as if unaffected by her threats, though I’m growing nervous. Just what kind of monster has she become?

There’s a dagger in the secretary in the corner, more of a letter opener than a weapon, but it has a sharp blade. I edge toward it, not sure I’ll make it before the princess decides to attack. “You don’t actually eat people now, do you, Camellia? You were always so picky about your food.”

The princess scoffs, stalking forward. She’s close now. Too close. Can she use her magic through Cythia? Pranmore seemed to think so—that’s why he warded Henrik when he spoke with Della.

“I’ve killed you so many times in my head.” She sighs a little. “Now we’re here, and I can’t decide which would be the most satisfying way to see you go.”

My fingers wrap around the bottom of the drawer. I slowly pull it open a crack, attempting to hide what I’m doing with my voluminous skirts. As soon as my fingers slide over the cool metal handle, I pull it free and bump the drawer closed with my rump.

“I have so many new tricks these days,” she says. “Fire…”

Flames suddenly engulf me, searing as they steal the air from my lungs. I’m paralyzed, experiencing pain I’ve never imagined. I scream, falling to my knees. It feels as if it goes on forever, a never-ending torment.

And then suddenly, the fire is gone. Breathing hard, I look at my bare arms. They’re not blistered or burned. Even the fine hair is untouched.

Camellia laughs. “Suffocation…”

I inhale sharply, and then my lungs seize. I panic, reaching for my chest, unable to draw in a breath. I can’t even exhale. Slowly, black smudges blur my vision, and the room spins. I fall over, feeling the world slip away.

And then I gasp, able to breathe again.

Before Camellia can do something else, I grip the knife in my hand and throw it with my remaining strength. I’m a good shot—I have been since Gavriel thought it would be a lark to learn the skill and I ended up besting him within a year. But Camellia catches the dagger in midair.

I stare at her, grasping at the stone floor under my hands.

“I can call darkness.” She studies the blood as it drips from her fist and onto the floor, entranced. “It answers me.”

The lamps snuff out, leaving the room pitch black. Eyes appear, white glowing pairs looming from all corners of the space. Camellia walks forward, illuminated in a ghastly green light. But she’s human no more. A monster stares back at me, irises a depthless black, moonlit white skin, her once-blonde hair the color of night. Somehow, she’s beautiful. Evil, wicked—but stunning. Like the embodiment of a siren.

Death.

“Maybe I’ll carve out your heart.” She turns the dagger in her hand, her long black talons wrapping around the hilt. “I’ll treasure it like a keepsake.”

She grabs my hair, ripping me to my feet. At one time, I could have taken her in a fight, but she radiates power, and she’s nearly killed me twice already. She’s stolen my fight, not just physically but with magic. I’m a rag doll, helpless to protect myself.

“But first, I’ll start with your pretty face,” she says. “That way, when Henrik remembers you, this will be what he sees.”

I’m paralyzed with fear, realizing this is how I’m going to die—acknowledging that Henrik will find me like this.

I can’t even cry out as the tip of the blade bites into my skin and slowly trails across my cheek.

Move.

Fight!

But no matter how I try to convince my body to strain against her, it doesn’t respond. My hands merely hang at my sides, useless.

Blood runs down my face, hot against the chill of the room. The heat and pain tell me this is real; this nightmare is happening.

I’m sorry, Henrik.

Suddenly, Camellia screams, and the dagger clatters to the floor. Light floods the room as I collapse onto the ground, unable to support myself.

My vision goes spotty, but I see Henrik standing over Cythia’s body, his sword slicked with blood.

“You got into the courtyard,” I murmur.

And then the darkness claims me.