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“Illuminate.” The light I cast is faded, watery. My magic is faltering.

I half stride, half stumble toward the back of the temple, where the innermost sanctum is. Where the entrance to the ley line is.

When I see it, relief makes my knees weak. It’s barely visible under the light of my magic, but I can just make out the strange distortion in the air where the ley line entrance bends the light.

Far on the other side of the temple, I hear the bangs of weapons and fists against my ward, then the haunting sound of it shattering.

I place my hand on Ferox. “We’ll step onto the ley line at the same time. Ready?”

The panther dips his head, which is the closest thing I’m going to get to assent. Behind us, soldiers clamor in our direction. Moments. We have mere moments.

Taking a fortifying breath, Ferox and I cross onto the ley line.

Immediately, the noise quiets, and our surroundings—what little I can make of them in the darkness—smear. Nonmagical humans cannot traverse these roads, at least not without aid. Which means that for now, Ferox and I are safe.

I cannot, however, say that about anyone else who remained devoted to Memnon. To me. They are still locked in battle, getting butchered by an enemy they didn’t see coming.

I need to get to Memnon. Need to save him from whatever fate Eislyn has devised. Need to avenge our people.

My gaze flicks to the walls of the ley line. Right now, they’re cloaked in the darkness of the night, and only the faint smudges of warped, distant stars offer any light.

With my free hand, I reach around and pull out the arrow from my back, grinding my teeth together and swallowing a scream as I pry the head of it from my flesh, its edges ripping through more muscle. I toss the bloody projectile to the rippling tunnel walls.

“I offer you my blood, violently spilled by an enemy,” I gasp out as the open wound at my back begins to bleed in earnest, “in exchange for the safe passage of myself and my panther to the Khuno River Palace.”

What little I can see of the walls ripples, then smooths.

Fuck. It didn’t work.

Without the help of the ley line itself, I won’t be able to find my way to this destination. Instead, Ferox and I will wander along it, hopelessly lost until I either find a way out or we perish.

Adjusting my hold on Ferox, I reach for the other arrow and dig my fingers into the skin around it. A scream rips from my throat as I pull the second arrowhead out and throw it at the wall. “I offer you my blood, violently spilled by an enemy,” I repeat, “in exchange for the safe passage of myself and my panther to the Khuno River Palace.”

This time, the walls hardly even ripple.

“I offer you a memory,” I say to the fae magic, my desperation growing. “In exchange for the safe passage of me and my panther to the Khuno River Palace.”

The walls of the ley line undulate around me, further obscuring the scenery outside.

I take a few steps forward, bringing Ferox with me, but then the walls smooth, denying me passage once more.

I cry out. “For gods’ sakes, what do you want? Tears?” I ask. With my free hand, I gesture to my cheeks. “You can have them.”

The ley line’s strange, foreign magic brushes against my face, taking the offered tears.

Still, the wall doesn’t open. I want to scream.

“You already have my blood and my tears. What more do you want?” I ask the darkness. My magic is failing, my blood is streaming down my back, and my body is faint with exhaustion. There’s not much left of me to give.

Why did I not learn to navigate these magical roads without selling little pieces of myself? My ignorance is costing me.

A thought comes to me, one that has me pressing a quivering hand to my stomach. I swallow. There is one more thing?—

“Fine, I’ll tell you a secret: I think I might be pregnant.”

CHAPTER 43

ROXILANA, 23 YEARS OLD