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“We will not let that bastard succeed; do you hear me?” Yelena shook her, forcing Adelina’s gaze to meet hers. “Too much is at stake.”

Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, Adelina nodded and forced her attention to the text in her hands.

After two hours of rifling through all the books on Yelena’s shelves, Adelina puffed out an agitated breath. “There’s nothing here.”

“And three days isn’t enough time to search the library at Saintlandsther Council.” Yelena shook her head—her shoulders slumping.

Adelina sucked in a breath. “That’s it.”

“What?” Yelena’s gaze searched her face.

“The library is where I found the book about astral magic—it’s what told me how to obtain the Sword of Light.

Surely, they will hold other texts, a much more extensive collection than what you have here.

They’re bound to have what we’re looking for.

” Adelina rose. “And the only way Filip will let me go to Saintlandsther is if I am a part of his army.”

“You mean to say you want him to go ahead with the attack?” The colour in Yelena’s face drained, leaving a pasty, grey tinge to her skin.

Adelina resumed her pacing. “How else are we going to get what we want?”

Yelena placed her fingers to her chin. “I am aware of the extensive collection of books in the library, and it probably does have something of use. But to put so many lives at risk? How in the realm will we get you in and out without raising suspicions? Didn’t you say to Filip you’ll burn the place down?

If you go with him to Saintlandsther, he will expect you to do it. There will be no going back. ”

Pulling at her hair, Adelina clamped her eyes shut and wracked her brain for a plan. After a few moments, she peeled back her hands and opened her eyes. “I don’t see any other choice. Besides, I am playing him at his own game. I will think of something—no one will lose their lives by my hand.”

Yelena pursed her lips. “Well, let’s hope not.”

∞∞∞

Over the course of the next three days, Adelina trained in the Prism World. Despite her best efforts to control her magic, it was as wild as it had been the first day she’d set foot in there. When she returned to the training room, she dragged a hand over her face.

“You’d have thought my magic would behave,” she muttered.

“You haven’t had enough time without wearing your talisman to truly understand the ways in which your magic does behave.” Yelena emerged from her secret office and closed the disguised door behind her. “Unfortunately, the only way you will learn to control it now is through practice.”

“By burning down buildings and laying siege to innocent cities.” Adelina frowned.

The door of the training room burst open as Filip strode inside. The Sword of Light hung from a baldric around his waist. “It is time to leave.”

“I’m ready.” Adelina injected as much confidence into her tone as possible. Before she left, she cast a final glance over her shoulder at her trainer .

Yelena gave her a nod of encouragement, then disappeared from sight.

Without slowing his pace, Filip led her into the palace, straight for the entrance. Outside the palace, carriages were prepared, calvary in line, and foot soldiers gathered. Wagons were stashed with canvas tents and large bags, which Adelina presumed to be filled with food and medicinal supplies.

She halted, her heart lurching into her throat as she caught a glimpse of Damir, wrists bound, held in position by a guard in front of the leading carriage.

“You’re bringing him with us?” She couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice.

“Consider it your motivation.” Filip fixed his hard stare on her. “Not a single toe out of line, or I’ll kill him.”

Unable to resist the urge to comfort her husband, she flung her arms around him, drawing his filthy body against her chest. He rested his chin against her shoulder, his warm, ragged breath on her neck.

Filip gripped her arm and yanked her away. “None of that. Get in.”

The guard all but shoved Damir into the carriage. Adelina climbed in after and positioned herself between him and Filip. Although she couldn’t fight Filip, she’d do whatever she could to put as much space between them as possible.

Thumping on the roof, Filip gave the signal to move out.

With a sharp jolt, the carriage was on its way. Through the thin glass window, the sounds of clomping horses’ hooves and marching soldiers rung .

“We’ll be stopping at the garrison on the way south.” Filip’s voice broke the silence. “More soldiers will be joining us.”

Although she’d opened her mouth to speak, no words came.

Instead, she cast a sideways glance at Damir.

He’d not been bathed in what she’d guessed as weeks.

Even in his current condition, his eyes shone.

Hope. She rested her hand on top of his bound ones and squeezed.

Beneath her fingers, the cool surface of his wedding ring pressed into her palm.

Their locked eyes spoke a thousand words. They’d survive this together.

∞∞∞

Two weeks of heading south and camping in endless rain dragged by.

Each day a painful reminder of what was to come.

She’d spent her time silent, aside from the sparse conversations she was allowed to hold with her husband.

He’d been kept apart from her, bound to a tree trunk.

At least the rain had washed away the thick layer of mud from his weary body.

When she passed Pyotr, who’d travelled in their company, she fixed a glare on him, as if her gaze might rip through his wretched chest. He’d simply walked by, returning to the side of his master—Filip. But she knew the truth. If put to the test, Pyotr would prove to be a coward.

When the city of Pike was in sight, she turned her glance skywards and prayed to all the gods she ever knew, needing their guidance on the dark path on which she trod.

Turning around, she scanned the horizon in the north—the highlands of the Svatken Mountains.

Svarog had presented himself to her then, warned her to be careful.

“From here, we ride.” Filip approached her—the reins of two horses in hand. “We will return to the carriages when the city has fallen.”

Grimacing, she accepted the reins, placed her foot in the stirrup, then hoisted herself onto the back of her black mount.

“The soldiers and calvary will charge ahead,” he said. “And we follow. I am counting on you to do as you promised.”

As the words left his mouth, the foot soldiers marched towards the city. One dragged Damir along by a stretch of rope.

“My husband is unarmed.” She found her voice. “He has nothing to defend himself with.”

“My men will keep him out of harm’s way,” he declared.

She didn’t trust a single word he said, so she said, “You want to see this city burn, get my husband out of here.”

“I cannot afford to keep some of my men back with Damir,” he said. “If you do as you’ve promised, I will ensure he stays alive.”

Thick, grey clouds cast ominous shadows over Pike. The calvary and foot soldiers held their position, waiting for their signal to attack.

Filip’s booming voice ripped through the cool air. “Charge!”

Galloping horses kicked mud into the air as they thundered towards the city gates. Soldiers ran, their hollers ringing. She lost sight of Damir .

“Shouldn’t we move?” she swung an urgent glare at Filip.

“We head straight for the Council. Stay close.” He shook his reins vigorously, and his horse set off in a gallop.

Urging her own horse to follow, she rode hard into the city, Filip ahead of her.

Soldiers fought all around—the clank of swords and screams ripping through the air. Pike was not unprepared after all—their fighting men littered the streets.

Charging straight ahead, Filip ignored the battle. Cavalry tore through the crowds, their swords slicing through the mob with ease.

Where the hell was Damir? She hoped he’d got hold of a sword and cut himself free.

“Filip!” she called. “Give me command of a handful of men, and I’ll strike the eastern wing of the Council building.”

He cast a sceptical glance at her, but after a beat, he nodded. “Burn it down, or you know what will happen to your husband.”

After he’d given the order, ten armed soldiers followed her towards the iron gate surrounding the Saintlandsther Council.

She’d used the entrance when she’d visited the library before.

As she approached from the eastern side, she cast a glance to her left—Filip dismounted and wielded the Sword of Light.

He sliced through men as if he used a normal weapon.

It wouldn’t be long before he realised something was wrong with the weapon, and she wanted to be far away from him when he did.

Thick, black talons burst from his body.

His nether magic carved through his enemies, sending severed limbs and blood through the air.

She peeled her gaze from the gory scene and rode ahead. If she could get into the library, she could search the books for something she could use to stop Filip. But she’d need to be quick.

Throwing herself off the horse, she sprinted through the entrance. The soldiers in her command sliced down men surrounding her. Ignoring the screams and fighting, she forced herself forward.

When she reached the library, she flung open the door. The soldiers filtered in behind her.

“What are we doing here? We must return to the fight,” one said.

Backs to them, she produced the golden embroidery around her arm—its magic surging through her body, drenching the room in a bright, golden light.

Spinning, she extended her arm in a sharp jolt—the thread unwound, lashing out like a whip.

It slashed through the soldiers in one quick, bloody strike. Severed heads hit the floor and rolled.