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Below us, the sound of the water clashes with the dark power pulsing through me. Now that I’m no longer trapped in my own body, the power is terrifying. And yet, if it builds within me enough—if I can access it again—I can finally make Kyldare pay for everything he has done to me.

A tall, beautiful blonde woman stands next to Kyldare, the hint of a smirk on her face. My heart leaps into my throat, even as my blood heats with rage. Slowly, Calysian turns to look at me. I lower my head. But it’s too late. He catches my chin, holding tight.

“Flames dance in your eyes.” He cuts his eyes to the woman next to Kyldare. “Who is she?”

“Kyldare’s witch. Her name is Bridin.”

His eyes sharpen. “She frightens you. Even more than Kyldare.”

“She should frighten you too,” I snap. “She can do things that defy the laws of power.” Things like trapping me in my own body and somehow keeping me alive without food or water for three years.

“Tell me what I need to know.” His voice is even, expression intent as he evaluates the threat.

“I…I’d never met a witch on my continent. I’m not sure if that’s because Regner’s barrier kept them out, or if they were able to hide their presence from him.”

My mind turns fuzzy as I’m assaulted by memories of Bridin following Kyldare’s commands. Fae, hybrids, humans…all of us are born with our power. But witches take their power through sacrifice to their god. White witches sacrifice from themselves, while black witches sacrifice others.

“Madinia.” Calysian’s voice is soft, and I blink, shoving the memories away. “Bridin is a black witch. She sacrifices animals often, humans occasionally, but she especially enjoys children.”

His eyes darken, and I nod. “She’s evil. And she can sense power. It’s one of the reasons why Kyldare began working with her in the first place. He thought she would be able to locate the grimoire. But she has never been able to find it, no matter how many people she sacrifices to her god.” I force myself to channel Calysian’s calm, focused evaluation of the situation. “The moment you use your ward, she’ll know we’re here.”

Calysian shrugs. “I’ve tussled with witches before.”

“She’s not just any witch. She’s a monster.”

Calysian turns away to study the regiment. I study Kyldare, basking in the feel of the grimoire as it slides tendrils of power toward me. The feel of that dark power is seductive, comforting and… terrifying.

I haven’t felt it since it helped me escape the tower. The fact that it’s now calling to me is as unnerving as it is comforting. It’s as if even the grimoire wants to watch Kyldare die.

A faint shimmer catches the light, a subtle distortion in the air near Bridin and Kyldare. It ripples, almost like steam rising from a pot, and Calysian stiffens, titling his head, eyes narrowing.

“What is it?”

“A trap. The witch has found a way to replicate my power, turning it against me. She may not know where the grimoire is, but she understands exactly how to use an unclaimed link to its power. You should go.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Leave. I’ll take care of this and find you when it’s done.”

Dread sinks into my gut like a stone and slowly expands, pushing against my lungs.

He pins me with a hard stare. “Go.”

“You heard him,” Eamonn says, and I jolt. He’s sitting in a branch above our heads, watching Kyldare.

“I don’t take orders from birds. Or gods.” I match Calysian’s glower with one of my own.

He heaves a sigh. “Is there anyone youdotake orders from?”

“No.”

He shakes his head, but his eyes drop to my lips and linger. My heart thuds, my breath catches, and his eyes meet mine. They glitter with lust. And something that looks almost like…longing.

I open my mouth, but Calysian freezes, tension thrumming through his body.

A moment later I feel it too. The sudden pulse of power is invisible yet suffocating, as if the world itself is recoiling from Bridin’s evil. There’s no visible sign of anything wrong—no explosion or even a flash of light—and yet the dark power within me snarls, desperate for release.

They know we’re here.