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A feeble voice called out, “Send her in.”

I crossed into his room, tray in hand, and my heart slammed at the sight of him, sitting hunched at his desk, scribbling on paper. It was a sparsely decorated room. The only thing that was remotely ornate in there was the gleaming image of the sun over the Pater’s bed.

I slid the tea tray onto a table overlooking a window. “Just thought I might pop by again with some chamomile, my darling, since you were feeling poorly, but do you know what? Ninny that I am, I spilt it on the way up. Still, I thought you might like a little company and help getting into your bed. Always trying to get you into bed, I am.” I giggled coquettishly.

“Thank you, Verica. I will be retiring to bed soon.”

He turned to look at me, his face gaunt, hands trembling. He looked tired, haggard, with dark circles shadowing the skin beneath his eyes—like an ordinary old man, which was deeply unfortunate, because it gave him the illusion of being weak.

But I couldn’t stand there analyzing him. It’s not what Verica would do.

I grinned. “Aw, look at how tidy your bed looks. Be a shame if that got all rumpled with too much activity, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, Verica, you always make me smile. But I keep growing weaker.”

“We need to get your strength up,” I cooed. “Get your virility back. You’ll be hard as iron soon.”

“I was thinking of shortening the trials,” he says. “What do you think? Get the witch sooner.”

My heart poundedhard,but I could not let myself show any shock at this news. “Well, that’s a brilliant idea, shortening the trials.”

He nodded. “Cull the weakest faster. I’ll be healthy again in no time.”

My breath hitched. “Absolutely. Get the weak ones out.” What were we talking about?

“Help me to my bath,” he said curtly.

Oh,gods,no. Was I supposed to stay in there with him?

“Of course,” I said, crossing to him and helping him stand. “Bath time. I know you’re filthy and need a good cleaning.” Internally, I was trying not to retch.

He leaned on me as I walked him over to the bathroom—a sparse, drafty room with a giant stone tub in the center. I helped him over to a chair, then moved to turn on the water in the bath. “The trials will make everything better,” I replied soothingly, trying to get him back on topic.

I turned away from him so I wouldn’t have the image of his naked body burned into my brain for the remainder of my days.

“I need rest,” he said. “And I won’t join the witch-finding tomorrow. I don’t want them to see me like this. We’ll send the new Magister Solaris in my stead. We’ll get the trials over. Replenish my strength with the most powerful magic. Then I’ll be right as rain.”

As I stood in the doorway, turned away from him, I tried to keep my voice from shaking. “You'll be fit as a fiddle in no time. Relax in the bath, my darling. The Archon needs you strong as his sacred warrior. Maybe just do one day of a trial, yeah?”

“Sure. I suppose it doesn’t even need to be the strongest witch,” he said.

I swallowed hard. “Could be any witch, yes.” Truly, whatwerewe talking about?

I heard the water splash as he climbed into the bath. “Or possibly a group of witches. If I siphon the magic off a few of them in one day, it would equal the power of one strong witch. I don’t need to limit myself to just one. I do that, sometimes. A group of weaker witches at once. Saves time. Burn them after.”

My breath went still in my lungs. “Wonderful idea.”

Sothatwas what he did with the witches who survived the trials: he forced them to reveal their magic by pitting them against each other, culling the weakest, then fed off their power.Thiswas the source of his immortality?

Desperately, I wanted to know where the trials would be taking place. He needed to be stopped.

A knock sounded on the bedroom door, and I cleared my throat. “Do you know what, darling, I think one of the guards is knocking. I’ll go check. I’ll be back in two ticks.”

My hands shook as I crossed back to the door. “Yes?” I asked through the wood.

“It’s me.” Sion’s quiet, deep voice pierced the door.

Slowly, I opened it to find Sion standing outside, the guards nowhere in sight. As I looked at him, I could see with dawninghorror that already, his glamour was fading—his hair turning back to its deep brown shade, eyes glowing gold again.