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Spit flew from my mouth, my voice lethal as I cried back, “I know all about Donika’s torture, you fucking coward,and notoncedid I give anyone up to save myself.”

His black eyes dimmed, resigned. “Then you are stronger than I am,” he replied.

I scoffed. “That’s more than obvious. Torture is no excuse.You betrayed us. Turned your back on us. You’ll meet your end at the tip of my blade.”

Warrick swallowed hard as I brought my sword up again, moving towards him in earnest.

“What can I do to convince you?” he asked.

Pleaded. His voice was desperate.

“Nothing,” I hissed, our blades clashing together again.

“She kept me here and tortured me, beat me. Turned me into thismonster! Made me meet you here in the throne room.I never wanted any of this.”

“Made you?No. She didn’tmakeyou turn against us. Didn’tmakeyou battle us here, killing resistance members that you once called family. Youchose. And you chose wrong. You are a coward and a liar.”

When my blade met his again, he pressed me back, and I slipped against the blood-stained marble, scrambling to keep my footing. A sting pressed against my abdomen, right below my ribcage. My hand pressed against the flesh there, and when it came free, it was covered in fresh blood.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion.

Warrick’s blade hadn’t touched me.

I felt down the bond, but it was dull. As if I were wading through quicksand. A thick haze coated the emotions that were once so crystal clear.

Nik.

Hewas blocking me out.

He was injured.

I couldn’t go to him. Couldn’t run out onto the battlefield to protect him and make sure he was all right. I had to trust that the resistance would have his back, as they had mine.

If he died, I died.

We were wasting time. We needed to find Donika, and we needed to find hernow.

Blood dripped from the wound to soak through my shirt, thickly coating my leather jacket.

Nik’s wound wasmywound.

Warrick stared at me—his mouth open. I used his distraction as my opening. I hit him across the shoulder with my sword and the blow took him by surprise. Before he could get his own sword up between us, I twisted to kick him, and he fell to his knees.

“I’ll make it quick,” I told him.

I raised Stormslayer between us.

His eyes fell on the blade, a soft smile crossing his lips.

He recognized it.

Recognized what it meant to me.

To Nik.

I glared down at him, my own emotions warring inside of me that Noctani could show such emotion. Suchhumanity. It went against everything we thought about them.

“Mother, forgive me,” he whispered, right before I sliced Stormslayer across his throat.