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His head spun. He fell, then righted himself, ignoring the stinging pain in his hands. It was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He was a monster. A demon. A creature from the darkest depths of hell. An abomination no longer afforded a care in this world. He had injured his mate. His mate. She was the one person he wasn’t supposed to be able to harm. It was impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

Voices closed in on him, blending with everything else. Voices echoing from his past, screaming at the top of their lungs. Telling him he should die and be done with it. They said he had no purpose in this world. That he was beneath the filth that ran through the city streets.

No. No, no, no, no, no . . .

There were voices nearby. Far away and close. Real and imagined. Rion scented magic and twisted, but he couldn’t make sense of the world around him. Didn’t know if the light he saw was the sun or the moon or fire.

Fire—Rion blocked his face, his magic barely coming up in time. His hands singed and he fell back, hitting the ground hard. More voices, but Rion scrambled to his feet, desperate to obey that single command.

Run.

Wind tore at his clothes and Rion hit the ground again, his chin slamming against the hard earth. He gasped, but the pain was nothing compared to what still coursed through him, tainting his blood, coating his mouth.

Something was pulling the air from his lungs and he grabbed his throat, gasping for breath. He clawed at the earth, his body still begging him to run, run, run.

Why? Tears fell freely down his face now, even as he fought against the unseen enemy. Why was this happening?

Because you deserve it, a voice seemed to answer.

Fight left him, his vision darkened, and Rion knew nothing more.

Two weeks …

Four weeks …

Six weeks …

Eight weeks …

Chapter Fifty-six

Rion

He screamed into darkness that wouldn’t hear him and fought against the shadows depicting his worst nightmares.

And no one bothered to save him.

Chapter Fifty-seven

Talon

She was a ghost, barely moving, hardly functional day to day as she lay in her room, tears staining her cheeks. She wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and only did either when her body absolutely demanded it.

Talon clenched his fists. Niall had resumed command of Ruadhán and had agreed to give Arianna space to grieve and heal, but even he was growing impatient. He was a constant face in the hall where Ellie had erected a barricade to shield Arianna from the inquiring masses.

No one made it within a dozen yards of Arianna’s door. No one aside from him, Ellie, and a servant named Victoria.

Arianna rarely spoke, and they’d learned after the first week not to mention Rion’s name in her presence. If they did, she broke down all over again and withdrew so far into herself that Talon worried she might never emerge.

He signed and continued down the hall, leaving dust and ash in his wake. He hadn’t stopped searching. Arianna had asked something of him and he was determined to fulfill her request. He’d been out every night, sometimes for nights on end, following tracks and scents just as he’d once done to find his friend. Ellie called him the best tracker Móirín had ever seen.

He scoffed. Best tracker indeed. He hadn’t been able to locate Arianna in a year and a half and he was proving no better where The Demon was concerned.

Rion. He corrected himself. He’d accidentally called him The Demon in front of Arianna and she’d given him the most heartbreaking look he’d ever seen.

Talon had searched and searched, but now he was out of leads. He’d traced every location. Followed every discernable trail.