Page 120

“I know what you think of me,” Vasteel whispers now, his head lolling to peer at Ryon through clumps of filthy hair. “You think me a villain. Your father thought the same.”

Ryon does not quail at the mention of Thaddius Mesrich. He has long since grown immune to the brutes spitting his name through their teeth. Using it as though it were something to cut him with. It has been many years since he felt its sting. But Vasteel’s tongue does not curl at its citing now. Instead, he sounds sorrowful.

“Thaddius tried to curb my tastes once,” he continues, his breaths becoming even more shallow. “Tried to… to reason with me. To negotiate. Ha! He wondered if we hadn’t taken our fill of life, taken too many of the living to defy our own deaths. And I… I should have killed him then. Should have prevented the events that would unfold. I should have denied fate its tangled designs to kill me, but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see how maddened he had become.

“But worse than that, I did not see whatyouhad become, Ryon,” Vasteel rasps. “And so, I was twice a fool – once for believing in Thaddius and again when I believed in his bastard. But I swear to you. I cared a great deal for your father. And I could not help but care a great deal for you too.” He looks at Ryon with watery, ancient eyes, and shakes his head slowly. “I should have staked you both.”

Ryon meets that gaze, ice curling up his spine. He musters a smirk. “You would never have killed me,Your Grace,” he says coldly. “I was too good at charming your affections and youwere too stupid to notice.”

A jostle sounds from Ryon’s side – Tasheem awakening. A breath of relief loosens from Ryon’s chest to see her eyelids rise and fall. Her feet slip on the wet rock beneath her, slick with her blood.

“Tash,” he says, trying to make his voice reach. “Tash, go easy.”

She groans soundly, looking about the cavern with eyes that threaten to shutter. Her mouth hangs open, her breaths too short. “Ry…?”

“I’m here,” he tells her, watching the vine tighten around her wrists. “Be still, Tasheem.” But her eyes have fallen to the Glacian on the wall adjacent and they widen in panic. Reality seems to return to her then. She finds Rivdan tied to the wall beside her, then Ryon, the other Glacians. “What–”

“Ah, a party,” a voice simpers, floating through the cave.

Samskia strides toward them, her fingers trailing along the low ceiling, moss and vine appearing where she touches. “So many awake to see the blood on the moon.”

Ryon’s throat closes. “Samskia.”

“You’ve survived, night wing.” She nods to him, her irises glowing. “I hoped you would.”

Tasheem stares at her balefully. “Who–?”

“She’s a mage,” Ryon groans, looking to the cave opening, where the light is dimming.

“Let us go,” Tasheem spits. Blood dribbles down her chin, her eyes roll.

Samskia tilts her head over and watches the blood fall in droplets, adding to the stain at her feet. Then she smiles brilliantly. “Very well,” she says and waves a hand through the air once.

Ryon feels the immediate release of the vine wrapped around his wrists and arms, and they drop like stones to his side. His legs have no strength with which to hold him, and he crumbles. There is a chorus of flesh colliding with stone as they all fall, only the ones still alive utter a cry. Ryon’s shoulders are ablaze, he curses wildly into the stone.

Samskia bends to him, tracing a line across his brow. “I’m afraid there is no time left for your woman, night wing,” she says. “I had hoped we’d see the blessings of the blood moon bring her to you.”

Ryon tries to brush her fingers away from him, but the fire in his arms burns on.

“Do not try to move, Glacian,” she tsks. “Your limbs will be of no use to you now.”

Indeed, he cannot summon movement from his legs, his arms making him bite down on his own tongue to keep from screaming.

“Baltisse saw something in you that I do not see,” she says, peering into his eyes intensely, turning her head on its side like a curious animal. “She insisted you live. But Yerdos… she wishes otherwise.”

“No,” Ryon urges.

But Samskia’s eyes widen before she turns her face away, beckons to something he cannot see. She stands abruptly, dropping his head to the stone. “The wards,” she utters, and then the air leaves the cave. The mage inhales as though she could hold the entire atmosphere in her chest.

For a moment, Ryon is breathless, suspended. Then Samskia exhales in a gust and air returns to his lungs.

She turns to face him once more, a wide smile alighting her features. “Your woman has made it after all, Glacian,” she says.

CHAPTERFORTY-TWO

Dawsyn brings mage fire to her palm and approaches the barrier once more.

“Dawsyn!” Salem hollers. “Are you daft?”