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“Why would you care what happens to either of us? You nearly killed Evander!” I snap at her.

She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose as the grip of the binds loosens.

“And I would do it again without a thought. Aamon always used Evander as a threat. It’s why he kept him around me when he was here in the capital, made him torture people, made him watch me.

All so he could hold him over me. The one person I loved with all my heart.

My son.”Tears perch in the corner of her eyes, making the gold twinkle like falling stars.

“He beat me, burned me, starved me, and whipped me all in an effort for me to say I was unworthy. Say that I was not a true wielder of magic but a cursed bitch who stole from Vaohr. Yet somehow, I resisted. I tried to be strong for my son, to show him there was nothing unworthy about us, about him.” She takes a long, steady breath, tears coursing down her cheeks, drawing bold lines through the dirt that now sticks to her skin.

“Having magic in your blood does not make you a wretched thing that deserves this and I needed Evander to know that. That was, until he told me he would kill Evander. He would murder our only child if I did not submit to his will and agree to become the high priestess.”

The rage within me subsides as the words pour out of her, as she lets every detail spew forth from her lips, from her soul.

I knew she survived torture, but I never knew why or what happened to both of them.

The shadows curl back into my body, receding to the far corners of the room and dissipating.

I let the flames calm and release her because she’s speaking the truth, and there’s no way I can kill her now.

No way I can murder the woman who did what she had to in order to keep her son, the man I love, safe and alive.

“And I knew that he would do the same today. He would use Evander to get to me. To get to you. He would have killed my son. And for that I will forever be in your debt.” She tugs her arms down from the wall, the wounds in her hands already starting to heal, the blood drying in a deep wine across her wrists and arms.

“Why not just kill him yourself?” I question. She is clearly powerful. A different type of magic than I had seen in Silas, something stronger.

“Ah, that,” she says, pulling her hands together and rubbing where the wounds are.

“He has a protection spell against my magic,” she explains.

I shake my head. “But how? I killed him with magic. How could he be protected from yours but die by mine?”

“Our magic is not the same, Bria. Like you, it’s in my blood, runs through my veins and sparks in my system.

It didn’t take long for the priests to learn that it lives in blood, the witches helped with that little sliver of information.

They have taken my blood for years, beaten me until I could no longer stand and drained vials upon vials of it to keep for their spells.

And to keep me from killing them all.” She slides up the billowy sleeves of her robes and the insides of her arms are covered in scars.

Long marks carve up her skin, puckered and pocked from burns, and up near her elbows are small slashes, all along the inside.

“I imagine they would have done the same to you. And as far as I know, they already took blood from your sister in preparation for her birthday tomorrow, knowing she would become a threat.” My heart sinks with the mention of Nimai and what they must have done to get her blood.

“I had—” My voice stalls, lodging in my throat. “I had no idea what happened to you. What happened to either of you.” I feel horrible, knowing what I do now. She may be a monster, but she was forced into it. She was made into it.

Nothing can change what she did—to my sister, to the hundreds of others she harmed and killed.

Olaphina has so much blood on her hands that she will never be clean of those sins.

But I’ve also never experienced what it feels like to have your child threatened, to have to choose between their life and the life of innocent people.

To feel useless, hopeless, and alone for years.

And deep down inside I know that if I were in the same situation, I likely would have chosen the same.

Evander rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to know.” The shame in his voice is tangible and it twists my insides up like someone wringing the last drops of water from a towel.

I look at him and stretch out my hand, feeling pulled to him, no matter what lies between us. No matter what lies ahead. The need to touch him is overwhelming.

“No more lies,” I order.

He grasps my hand and walks toward me. “No more lies,” he agrees.

We stay there, watching each other for a few seconds, absorbing all that has happened and all we still have to do.

But for this one moment, I have the slightest hope that it will be alright.

That we will be alright. In this one moment, I feel forgiveness and understanding flood over us, washing away what each of us has done and replacing it with respect. And love.

Olaphina’s movement toward us jolts me from the precious moment, and I recoil, moving back a few steps from where I stand, my hand still clasped within Evander’s.

I understand why she did what she did. But understanding her is a far cry from trusting her.

Especially while we are still in the capital, and they still have her blood.

The energy thrumming from her is intense.

Not like Silas , I think again. It feels raging hot, like the fire of magic that burns inside of me.

She said it was different, but how? It has this feeling, like it’s something old and ancient and from the earth.

Olaphina tilts her head as if assessing me and continues to move closer, closing the gap between us as her robes softly swish around her.

“You feel it, Bria, don’t you?” she asks, her voice soft and ethereal.

I nod, though I’m unsure what it is. Old magic, maybe. But how?

“How can you do that? I’ve never heard of someone with power like mine,” I question, needing to know how she pulls energy like I do. I thought it a power of the gods if it had been passed down to me, but clearly it isn’t.

She smiles, a small and graceful movement of her full lips.

“That is a story for another time. But you can do more with it, Bria. You can pull energy from those without magic too, feed from their life energy. It’s a different sort of draining, and it’s deadly to the mere mortals you may use it on.

Though that may prove useful when you go up against the king. ”

Drain energy from those without magic. Life energy, she said.

“I could kill people?” I shake my head. It seems impossible. Too powerful, even.

“Yes, remember that the next time you come up against someone who wishes you harm, Bria,” she remarks, glancing down at my healing wrist.

I open my mouth to ask her more questions. I have a feeling she could answer so many things I yearn to know about my magic. About where it comes from and about the old gods and the Forsaken Woods. But her mood shifts, as if sensing something around us.

“You need to listen to me. There is not much time before they come looking for Aamon. Before they come looking for all of us.” Her face is pained as she reaches out to touch my hand, the one that bears her ring.

She grasps it tightly and the golden flames in her eyes burn brightly as she speaks.

The simmering energy in my core springs to life with her touch, heat rising through my spine, pulsing through my bones and blood.

“They are running out of people to take magic from in the capital. They have been searching further and further from Easthallow, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.

And that means the world is changing. If they lose this power, everything will change.

” Her voice is tense now, different from the airy, soft tone she held only moments before.

“You need to get Nimai and run. Get to the Forsaken Woods and seek out the Guardians and the Ancients. Go now .” Her words are rough, as though she is scraping them out of her throat. As if it hurts her to say them.

My body tightens, every muscle clenching in fear. What is she talking about?

“What Ancients?” I ask hurriedly.

She squeezes my hand and I feel it heat more. I shoot a glance down and my fingertips are dark again, hers faintly glowing.

“I don’t have time to explain. Evander will know what to do.” She presses a kiss to my forehead before doing the same to Evander and then shoves us out of the cell.

Evander tugs me along, grasping the intensity of his mother’s words. I crane my head around to watch her as we rush from the damp, dirt-filled dungeon room and her lips part in a smile, revealing the same dimple in her left cheek that her son bears.

“I’ll be here when you need me, Prophecy.” The whisper creeps up my spine, sending goosebumps across my arms and legs.

“Let’s go,” Evander commands as he begins hauling me behind him up the steep stairs. Up to the castle. To get Nimai.

And run.