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“Hmm. We’ll see.” With a heavy slap to the back of his head I tossed him forward again. He landed face down in the courtyard of the Eastern palace.

Ribbons of gold and red lined the branches of the trees. Two boys wrestled each other in overgrown, mossy cobblestones. The Shadow King and Queen laughed with their guild, with Falkyns in the center. A place where wretched masquerades once took place, now was a place of laughter for thieves and an inseparable family.

“Strange how you tried to break two lonely littles, only to help them find the devotion of a family larger than they ever imagined.”

Golden light shimmered toward the edges of the courtyard. Images of Kase and Malin faded. Davorin was gasping, like the anger, the rage of seeing the rise of every kingdom and throne was breaking him piece by piece.

I grinned toward the shimmer. “You’ve lost, battle lord. A man who could’ve had it all. Friendship, armies at his command, love—you gave it away for hate and greed. It was always meant to be your downfall.”

“You can do nothing.”

“So certain?”

My grin widened at the new voice. I reached a hand for the shimmer of gold, and a misty image of Calista stepped forward.

Davorin’s face contorted with rage. “How is she here?”

“She followed her heart song and found me,” was all I said.

“No. This is not Riot’s seidr!” Davorin’s lip twitched.

“Who said anything about the fate king?” I asked, head tilted. “He paved the way for his girl to find her own power and she has. Curious isn’t it? I think Riot knew exactly how powerful she’d become. I think he knewmysoul,mygifts, would be hers. The same way hers bond with mine.”

Davorin clenched his fists. “Soul bonded? It’s not been done. It’s not possible but in sagas of the gods.”

“Then the fates must truly wish you to lose this battle.” Calista popped one shoulder. “For soul bonding has happened to us, you bastard. Silas’s soul sings to mine, and I will find his—even in your dreams.”

Somewhere, distantly, the tang of hot blood burned in my throat. Davorin cried out, clutching his wrists, batting at his chest.

A sneer curled over my lips. “Ah, if I had to guess, the thieving prince is nearly finished.”

“What are you doing?” Davorin bellowed.

Calista squeezed my hand. “We’re coming, Silas.”

“Sing with me, Little Rose.” I faced her. “Trap him here. We finish this now.”

The spectral of Calista glanced at Davorin. “You will not be able to move. You won’t be able to lift a blade until we are finished with you.”

She faded into nothing but emptiness. I closed my eyes, embracing the burn of her heart calling me back, calling me toward wherever she was. Davorin still swatted and raged at the phantom pain on his limbs.

“Wake up, battle lord. Your fate awaits.” I slammed my palm against his chest. Different from a fae sleep where Ari had to fight his way free from the glamour that held him captive, this was nothing but a simple sleep. I could demand it to end at my leisure.

I demanded it now.

I woke with an ache in my skull and the reek of flesh and gore in my lungs. Gunnar’s illusions had faded by the time Davorin’s eyes opened. He spun a bloody knife, a cruel grin on his face when the battle lord shifted back but cried out in pain.

With a shock of horror on his face, Davorin looked at his bare chest, his arms. He’d been stripped and slashed.

“Seems like those sea witch runes don’t do much good if your mind is at rest.” Gunnar chuckled. At his feet were lumps of bloody flesh, inked in spells and runes that would’ve kept Davorin protected from our glamour, mesmer, and fury. They would’ve protected him from a blade created to kill him.

“Didn’t know how far to cut. I tried to get to the bone, just to be safe.” Gunnar tossed the knife into the soil underfoot. The point landed close to Davorin’s feet. “That’s for my wife.”

Blood dripped down Davorin’s skin, draining him of strength. Still, he reached for his blade.

Sing with me. I closed my eyes, a deep sound rolling from my chest. The words Calista demanded in the dream remained fresh in my mind. Warmth surrounded my heart, as though some deeper piece of me knew she felt the pull to the vicious song where she was in the moment

“Damn you!” Davorin was flung backward. The wrist he’d used to reach for Gunnar’s blade snapped and cracked at a sick angle. Sweat pooled over his brow against a faint glimmer of gold that seemed to shackle his skull to the ground, seemed to clamp his jaw shut.