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Chapter forty-six

ATALIIA

Magic seeped from my pores, unseen energy sliding through the air toward Cyloe and her captor. Invisible tendrils of power flowed toward Dukovich and Landers, an impenetrable wall erecting around their minds to block outside forces.

They would hurt us, I knew that, but I would not make it easy for them.

My head tilted toward Oryn as my eyes followed each step in the slow circle he created around us. Blood filled my mouth and I swallowed it back, teeth locking around my tongue to keep myself from spewing all the threats pouring into my mind.

I had to be smart about this. I had to let him believe he was in control, that I was helpless. But he had no idea that all his guards, all the people of his court that gawked at us like precious gems, no longer had control of their own minds.

They were mine.

Oryn and the High Priestesses were powerful witches, their magic the same as my own with centuries more practice—but I did not see a familiar anywhere near them. I clung to that thought, remembering what Andrues had told me. They were rare, and I was powerful.

Oryn stopped his pacing, standing directly in front of us.

With a flick of his wrist, the chains binding Landers tightened, digging into his flesh.

Landers let out a hiss through clenched teeth but kept his head high, defiant.

A sneer curled his lips despite the pain etched into his features as Oryn chuckled, the sound void of any true amusement.

“I must admit, I am impressed by your resilience,” Oryn said, his voice dripping with false admiration as he looked down at Landers. “Most minds would have broken by now, spilled every secret they had. But not you. No, you cling to your loyalty like a badge of honor.”

Landers did not give him the satisfaction of a response, only held his gaze as blood trickled from his nose over his cracked lips. Oryn’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features at the failed attempt to rile him.

That look, however fleeting, told me everything I needed to know. He liked the game, the taunting in all of this. I was good at playing games and we needed to keep him stalled, keep him talking.

Oryn turned his attention back to me, a sinister glint in his eyes. “But you, little bird, I have a feeling you will sing for me. One way or another.”

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my throat as he yanked me to my feet.

Snarls tore from Landers and Dukovich, the sound flanking me as a gasp choked out of my lungs.

The chains at my wrists rattled, ringing out into the room as my hands instinctively flew up to claw at his grasp.

My nails dug into his skin like claws, breaking skin and drawing blood,

He leaned in close, his breath pungent and hot against the shell of my ear. “I will break your little mind, your spirit, until there is nothing left of you but a shell. And when I am done, when you have given me everything I want, I will let my men take turns with you until you beg for death.”

He released my throat with a jerk as red exploded into my vision.

Saliva saturated my mouth, mixing with the blood trickling from my raw tongue and I launched it at his face.

Oryn hissed as my spit connected with his skin and in a blur of movement his hand shot out, the back of it colliding with my cheek.

My head snapped to the side, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the hall as the skin across my bottom lip split open.

Slowly, my head turned back toward him, a smile sliding across my lips and stretching the fresh cut wider. Warm, crimson liquid trickled down my chin as my eyes connected with his.

I dared him to fucking touch me again.

“What exactly have you heard about me, High Priest?” I crooned, holding back the wrath that burned in me.

A low laugh rolled from his lips, his pacing commencing as he thought on his answer.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as the noble holding Cyloe’s leash followed every one of my silent commands.

Slowly and quietly she removed her collar before slipping through the crowd and out of the room.

Cyloe stayed seated, waiting for her moment to sneak away from the prying eyes.

“You are a pure bred witch and one of the most talented skin stealers we have seen in centuries, which makes it so unfortunate that you chose to spy for the wrong side. Not many Hanth have been able to perfect their shifting like you have. Your skills would be rewarded with us.” He lifted a brow in my direction as his words hung in the air.

It was an offer and he actually thought it could tempt me.

But he’d taken my bait and now I knew he didn’t know I had a familiar, or at least he wasn’t revealing that information. But I’d have to risk it.

A laugh bubbled up from my chest, the sound harsh and mocking in the vaulted hall. “You think I would ever join you? After what you’ve done?” I shook my head, disbelief etched into my features. “I may be a lot of things, but I am no traitor.”

Disdain filled his gaze. He stepped closer, his hand reaching up to my hair and letting his fingers slip through the strands as his eyes raked over my face. “Soon enough, you will learn your place.”

“I know exactly where my place is. And it’s not bowing to you or anyone else in this fucking room.”

“Enough of this,” one of the High Priestesses snapped impatiently and my eyes darted toward the sound of her voice. “Let us get on with it, we have wasted enough time already.”

Oryn’s gaze flickered to the High Priestesses flanking his throne. “What do you think, ladies? Shall we show our guests the hospitality of the House of High?”

The women’s lips curved into matching cruel smiles. “I think a demonstration is in order,” one of them purred, her voice like poisoned honey. “To remind them of their place .”

Oryn nodded, a wicked gleam in his eye. He turned back to Landers, still kneeling proudly despite the chains anchoring him to the ground.

“What do you want?” Dukovich hissed and Oryn’s focus snapped to him.

“I want to know where your little God is, I want you to end this war before it has begun and hand her and Locdragoon over. But your King here has already assured me that will never happen—has promised me none of you will give me what I want.” A dramatic sigh left Oryn’s lips before he spoke again.

“So now, you are nothing more than bait. I hear your God has a bad habit of rushing in to save this one.” He pointed a bony finger toward me.

“We do not need any of you alive to lure her here. Just the thought of you in our hands will do the trick—I’ve been assured as much. ”

My teeth clenched at his words.

There was no one outside of our circle that knew Cin well enough to make such assurances. Someone—someone close, was betraying us.

My stomach knotted at the thought, bile rising but I swallowed it back.

“I can fucking promise you,” I started, my words daggers as they spilled from my mouth. “She will be angry if you kill me, but if you kill her—”

“Hyacinth is a God, Oryn,” Landers cut me off, his eyes flashing to mine. “If you kill Ataliia, if you harm a single hair on her head, even death will not bring you peace.” Landers looked to me again and it clicked.

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know about the ceremony.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Oryn sent a blast of magic slamming into Landers’s mind and my body shuddered from the impact of his power colliding with my shields.

It worked.

It fucking worked.

I pushed back the smile that crept onto my lips and breathed against the second round of magic Oryn shot at Landers.

It was time.

I sent my silent commands trickling through the room, orders to all the minds I held in my clenched fist. From the corner of my eye, I watched as Cyloe scurried through the crowd of silent nobles, climbing onto the windowsill in the far corner in her rat form and pulling at the keys hanging from the guards belt.

He looked down, unfastening the set of keys and handing them to her, obeying without question.

Another impact of magic slammed into my mind and I dragged my eyes back to Oryn.

The force rattled through my bones, but still, my magic did not yield.

Confusion flickered across Oryn’s face for a split second before he composed himself.

He tried again, putting more power behind the attack and I forced myself not to groan against the pain it sent thrumming through my head.

A faint shimmer glimmered in my peripheral just as Cyloe’s body disappeared into thin air. Slowly, I dragged my eyes to Dukovich and he dipped his chin just enough to confirm what he had done.

Oryn’s gaze snapped to me, suspicion seeping into his features as understanding dawned. “You,” he hissed, stalking toward me. “You are doing this, blocking me somehow.”

I smiled then, a cold, vicious thing. “Surprise.”

In unison, every guard drew their sword on the tail of my words, pointing them toward their leaders as the High Priestesses shot from their thrones. Oryn stumbled backward as the guards took a step toward him.

Fear flashed in Oryn’s irises as the manacles at Landers’s wrists clattered to the ground.

“What have you done?” Oryn demanded, his voice rising with panic.

Landers’s arms lifted slowly, painfully, as his fingers wrapped around the iron crown and pulled it from his head. His power pulsed beside me, flowing back into him as he freed himself from the chains and rose from his knees.

Dukovich’s bindings were next, falling from his wrists as the horror on Oryn’s face deepened.

A sinister chuckle rolled from Landers’s mouth as he took a step forward. He was weak—I could see it in the stiffness of his movements. He had been bound in iron for too long.

“You underestimate her,” Landers said, his voice low and dangerous as he advanced another step toward Oryn.