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Be merciless in the face of his enemies.

Hide his magical abilities until ready to strike.

Twenty years later, and her rules still governed his life. Her wisdom continued to keep him alive. His survival depended on him hiding his gifts, who he was, and what he was capable of becoming. Not a challenge on a normal day. Others rarely visited him. He might hate his cage, but it had one thing going for it — seclusion and privacy. He required both in order to hone his craft without anyone being the wiser.

Softened by thick moss, approaching footfalls echoed.

Focus trained on the edge of the clearing, Westvane drove the tip of his blade into the surface of his butcher block. The knife bit wood. A thud echoed. Eastbrook shifted on his skin. The raven tattoo moved up his arm, over his shoulder to settle in on the side of his neck.

“Good idea,” he murmured absorbing the burn of the bird’s inky slither over his skin. “Keep an eye out, Eastbrook. Four eyes are better than two.”

The raven repositioned his head, sliding closer to the front of his throat.

“Slayer,” a man called, using the woods as cover. Not that Westvane needed to see him. Keen senses already seething, he knew where the guard stood. “We come in peace.”

Westvane tried not to laugh. A huff escaped him. Not a bad plan on their part, all things considered. Warn him first. Make their intensions known. Live to see another day.

“Stop hiding,” he said, eyes trained on the edge of the clearing. “Come out. I already know where you are.”

Only fair he warned them in return.

He might not believe in fair play, but he wasn’t opposed to playing by the rules when it suited him. Besides, toying with his prey before he killed it was one of his favorite pastimes. Add curiosity to mix, and he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know why Lyonesse sent them into his den, risking the strongest in her army.

Wary-eyed, the lead guard stepped out of the forest into the clearing. “Westvane.”

“Anckar.” His mouth curved, the smile not one of welcome, but of promised pain. “Nice of you to visit.”

Raising his hands, Anckar held one out toward him, the gesture an appeal for mercy. The other he used to signal to the others following him. The soldiers behind him halted.

Westvane waited, unmoving.

Anckar swallowed. “We want no trouble.”

“Then you should not have entered my cage.” Flexing his fists, Westvane unleashed the predator he kept locked deep inside him.

“We come in the name of the Queen.” Blue feathers aflutter, Anckar flexed his wings, settling each closer to his spine.

An unnecessary adjustment. A nervous, very telling tick. One Anckar would do well to subdue before Westvane decided to rip his wings off and shove both up his —

Anckar cleared his throat. “She has requested your presence.”

“You lie. She doesn’t request. She summons.”

“All the same, we cannot return to her empty-handed.” He unclipped the collar packed with magic and explosives from his belt. “Best if you come without a fight.”

“By all means, come along, Electi,” he murmured, soft tone full of menace. “Put the collar around my neck. I dare you.”

Already pale-faced, the guards standing at Anckar’s back palmed the barbed whips coiled to their belts. Westvane smiled even as he set his stance, preparing for battle. Excellent. Better than expected. A knuckle-bruising fight. Something new, though not altogether different. Exactly what he wanted, and everything he needed.

6

LIKE NOTHING SHE’D EVER SEEN

Ribs hurting, muscles burning, lying prone on the hardwood floor, Truly opened her eyes. Nothing but blur. She blinked to clear her vision, then realized she couldn’t breathe. Heavy pressure sat on her chest. Pain moved through her as she sucked in a choked breath.

Too thin. The air was too thin. She couldn’t get enough. Had her lungs collapsed? Had she fallen somehow? Was it —

Her brain rebooted, dragging awareness to the forefront of her mind.