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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

M aia fought against Heweryion’s grip on her, hating the weakness in her body, hating that she’d survived on scraps and useless sips of water for days, that it had already robbed her of the strength she’d begun to build in the compound and in Venhaus. She pulled on her saint magic but she was too afraid, too shaky, to guide it into anything useful.

Bryon tightened his grip on the golden sword, glanced once at her, and swung himself towards the nearest civilian like a battering ram, a weapon in himself. Maia shook her head, grabbing fistfuls of magic from around her, from within her. A shark leapt from the water but did nothing to deter Karmen. A huge swell of water crested the cobbled street but all it did was wash away the blood when Bryon tore his sword through three men who tried to flee. Swift, honourable deaths.

“Oh, don’t kill them,” Karmen chided with a sigh. “I need to know the location of the circle.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Bryon grumbled.

“You better,” Karmen replied, sing-song and cheerful. “Or I’ll leave that iron in her wings. It hasn’t yet blackened her soul but it won’t be long before she’s entirely unstable.”

Maia began to gasp, to choke, to cry. She heard Karmen mention blackiron minutes ago but… this was about her? Bryon was killing people, taking down innocents even as his expression twisted with hatred because of her. Whatever grasp Maia had on her magic slipping away in an instant. Her stomach roiled and by some miracle she managed not to throw up as Bryon took down two others. Karmen grew impatient.

“I will spare the rest of you,” Bryon shouted as a mother and child fled one of the crooked buildings. “You have my word, on my honour, I will spare everyone else if you tell me where to find the saints' circle.”

“Don’t,” Maia choked out. He flinched, like her words were arrows. “Not for me. Stop this.”

Bryon’s jaw clenched. His shoulders rounded, his back straightening, and he gripped the heavy gold sword in a single fist, watching people flee.

A fae man in his forties stepped out of the shadow of a tavern and approached Bryon. “I’ll tell you where it is.”

“Finnasz, no!” a red-haired woman of a similar age cried, pausing where she’d been running towards a twisting back street, clutching a six-year-old boy to her hip.

“Spare everyone, and I will tell you,” Finnasz said to Bryon, wind catching his black hair and throwing it against sharp cheeks. He didn’t glance back at the woman, but Maia knew that tortured look on his face—the look of someone tearing their soul apart to keep those he loved safe. She glanced away, her stomach coiling, and her stare landed on Bryon. He rested the tip of the sword against the cobbles, his face bleak and eyes hard. The Butcher of Valsyre. Valsyre didn’t even exist anymore. It was an empty stretch of land on the coast, steeped in blood and history.

Bryon dipped his head in acknowledgement, but he didn’t release his sword. Guessing, perhaps, what Maia hadn’t yet.

“It’s in the water,” Finniasz said with a twist of self-hatred. “The circle is in the sea, below the water.”

“Thank you,” Karmen said with a flash of satisfaction. Maia was frozen, icy in her bones, shaking in Heweryion’s grip. She met Bryon’s glare. “I need blood to open the circle. Be a dear and turn the water red.”

Bryon dipped his head, his chest heaving with a single rough breath, but he glanced up at Maia through his lashes and nodded.

“Don’t.” Maia renewed her struggles, shaking her head, and shouted his name when he looked away and took up his sword again. “Bryon,” she screamed. “Don’t. Not for me.” She wasn’t worth this. She wasn’t worth so many deaths, so many innocents slaughtered.

But she couldn’t stop him, and she was shaking so hard, her head spinning. She gasped for air, desperate and horrified and screaming both inside and outside. Her magic had no effect. No swell of water stopped the swift deaths, no sea creatures halted Bryon’s gold blade, no dog she sensed hiding in an alley could save the mother as she fled into the alley, sobbing with grief. Bryon struck her down, and the bright silver glow of her life extinguished. Another, smaller glow escaped, fleeing down the alley, but Bryon didn’t pursue, and Maia’s heart knocked against her ribs. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She fell hard and fast and painfully in love with him. He’d spared the child.

“Stop this,” Maia sobbed, watching the bright silver of souls go out one by one, until Marszton was dull with death. The guards Karmen had brought with her were already diving into the water, searching for the circle of stones Maia knew would crack open, allowing fuck knows what into this world. More monsters? More saints?

Karmen nodded when Bryon trudged back down the road, blood running down his face, staining every inch of his clothes. “Well done. I already knew where the circle was, but it’s nice to have one’s suspicions confirmed. And it’s interesting to see how far you’re willing to go, that you can be convinced to behave.”

Bryon jerked towards the Eversky, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched. He was huge, covered in dense muscle, dangerous even without the sword. But with it? Deadly. Brutal. Yet all he did was storm down the bloodied, cobbled street and stop beside Maia.

“You—” Maia choked out, suffocating on the horror of it as she stared at Karmen. “You made him kill all these people for nothing?”

The saint slid from the crate she’d sat on and glided down the street towards Maia, her sandalled feet splashing through pools of saltwater and blood. “Not for nothing. Let it be known, I’m a woman of my word.”

Maia cringed away from her when she reached out, her head knocking into Hew’s jaw as the bastard held her still.

“If you harm her—” Bryon began with a growl, muscling closer to Maia.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Karmen chided, grabbing the frayed membrane of Maia’s wing, right on the edge where it had ruffled, where she’d ripped the iron cuff free. Power shot through Maia’s blood like lightning, hot and white and lethal. Her back arched. A scream ripped itself from deep in her chest, echoed by a fearsome growl that swore vengeance for her pain, made her scream turn into a sob.

“There,” Karmen said, releasing her. Maia waited for Heweryion to let her go when her knees buckled, waited for the stones to bruise her knees, for the impact to be the last thing she felt before she died. But he didn’t let go. “You can take her back now, Hew.”

“This went well,” he replied, deep and rumbling and… affectionate. “Are you pleased, my king?”

“Very,” Karmen agreed with a smile. Her eyes were bright, excited. Maia flinched when that dark hand came towards her, fear striking so deep it was all she felt, but it only stroked Hew’s cheek instead of touching Maia.

When the saint turned back to face the docks, the water, Maia sagged in relief, but Heweryion’s hands tightened around her, pulling her away so fast she had to scramble to make her feet work.

“Gentlemen, escort Bryon to their new room,” Karmen said idly, already focused on the water where another saints' circle waited for her, promising even more power. Maia’s stomach churned.

“What do you mean take Bryon?” she demanded, breathless with a new, sharper sort of fear. Her eyes locked with Bryon’s dark forest green, pupils wide, mirroring her panic. “You can’t separate us!”

Hew dragged her away, ignoring her weak struggles. “Karmen can do anything she wants. Be grateful you’re still alive and no longer poisoned with iron.”

Maia didn’t care about that right now. She cared about the guards who swept in, cutting off Bryon as Hew pulled her away. She cared about the six feet of space between then, then seven, eight, nine, more. She couldn’t breathe, a sudden flash of urgency in her soul. Get to him, now, or something bad will happen. She fought harder, thrashing her head to get a glimpse of Bryon.

“Bryon!” she shouted, fear making her voice sharp.

“Princess!” he roared, deep and furious. Grunts came from the guards; he was fighting to get to her. But the only glimpse she got of him was of men grabbing his arms, wrangling him under their control, confiscating the golden sword from his hand.

“Karmen, you can’t do this! Bryon!” Being their captive was hell but it was bearable because she hadn’t been alone, because he’d been there with her. She couldn’t stand the thought of finally being locked up on her own.

“Maia!” Bryon bellowed.

Her heart faltered. He didn’t call her Maia. Not once, not ever.

“Enough of this,” Heweryion sighed.

Something hard hit the back of Maia’s head, and then the whole world went dark.