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And with this treasure away from the nouveau-magique, a balancing of the scales.

I reached for the book, my breath tight with anticipation. Just a little bit further ...

My fingers brushed the soft leather cover—and an uncanny silence descended, as if the very air had been sucked from the room. I froze. Something was wrong.

A familiar, honeyed voice sliced through the shadows. “Hello, Kaelen. It’s been a while.”

Ice shot down my spine. I knew that voice, knew it in my bones. My soul would never forget it.

Slowly, I turned to face the figure emerging from the darkness, a glimmer of silver dancing around her fingers.

Arisya Dain. Witch-mage of the Nightshade Order. Sworn Blade to the High Priestess herself.

And once, not so long ago, my lover.

She looked just as I remembered, sleek and deadly in her black leathers, raven hair pulled back in a severe braid. Her spell-soaked eyes met mine, a bright lilac color in the exact shade of my favorite flower, creating a startling contrast to her golden skin. A thousand memories crashed through me—tangled sheets and breathless laughter, the electric thrill of her touch, the shattering pain of her absence.

“Ari,” I managed, my voice rough. “What are you doing here?”

Her lips curved in a smile that held no warmth. “I could ask you the same question, love. But I think we both know the answer, don’t we?”

She nodded at the grimoire, still sitting on its pedestal. Unease churned in my gut as the pieces fell into place. The lax security, the artifact here instead of in Rossi’s main vault ...

“It was a trap,” I said flatly. “You set me up.”

Arisya laughed, low and mocking. “Oh, Kaelen. So quick, yet so slow.” She took a step closer, magic crackling at her fingertips. “Did you really think it would be that easy? That I would let you just waltz in and take what you wanted, like always?”

Her words were blades, each one seeking the chinks in my armor. I bared my teeth, anger rising to mask the ache in my chest. “What happened to you, Ari? When did you become Rossi’s lapdog?”

Something flashed in her eyes, gone too quick to read. “We all do what we must to survive.” Her voice hardened. “Now, stepaway from the grimoire. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

I shifted my stance, readying for a fight. Like hell I was going to roll over and surrender. Not to Rossi. Not to the Nightshade Order.

And not to her. Not anymore.

“Kae, listen to me,” Ryn said urgently in my ear. “You need to get out of there, now. I’m picking up major power fluctuations in the wards. This whole thing stinks of a setup.”

I knew they were right. But the grimoire was right there. And backing down now, with Arisya watching me, her judgment a tangible weight … It rankled, scraped against the tattered remnants of my pride.

I had to try. Even if it meant facing the full might of Arisya’s power—and the aching chasm of our shared past.

Slowly, deliberately, I reached for the grimoire once more.

Arisya’s eyes narrowed. “Last chance, Kae. Walk away.”

I met her gaze, defiant. “Make me.”

Her answering smile was a blade in the dark. “Darling,” she purred, gathering her magic to her in a shimmering aura, “I thought you’d never ask.”

two

. . .

I lunged at her,my body rippling and reforming mid-leap. Flesh and bone twisted, reshaped, until it was my panthera form that slammed into Arisya—half-human, half-cat, an indigo blur of speed and deadly grace.

She met me head-on, her own body limned in flickering witchlight. We collided in a maelstrom of slashing claws and whirling shadows.

I swiped at her, seeking to unbalance her, to find an opening. But Arisya moved like quicksilver, always a hairsbreadth ahead. She dodged and wove around my attacks, her magic a stinging lash against my hide.