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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

J aro ignored the chiding voice of the saint inside his head as he closed his eyes and reached into the frozen lake of his magic, his fur becoming stiflingly hot as he extracted a needle-thin shred of magic.

Slower, Kaial instructed. You’re going to burn out.

I can do this, Jaro snapped, one comment away from telling the saint to mind his own damn business. But the saint of vengeance had been reborn in Jaro; it was hardly like they could be separated. This power had belonged to Kaial, and he was determined that Jaro used it exactly as intended, down to extreme precision.

You can’t do it if you’re dead, was Kaial’s abrupt response.

Jaro sighed and released the needle of magic he’d summoned, letting it fall back into the frozen lake at his core. The fact that he could use magic at all was a miracle. As far as either of them could guess, it was only because of the brackish blood he’d swallowed when fighting the valkor. Before that, his power had been locked down tight, non-existent.

He’d managed a single fracture in his collar in the time Azrail had been gone. One fucking fracture.

Patience, Kaial muttered.

Jaro ignored that remark. He needed to get this fucking collar off, find a way out of this cell, and get to Maia. He’d felt her. A bolt of panic speared his soul like lightning hours ago, and he’d been frantic since. Someone had scared her. No, terrified her. And he was stuck here, trapped in beast form, locked in four stone walls, unable to get to her.

Take your time, pull a thread but slowly , Kaial instructed. You’re no use to anyone if you burn out.

Thank you for the glowing confidence, Jaro sniped, his temper shorter with every failed attempt. Kaial wasn’t much better after hours of trying to work magic. It was a wonder they were still talking to each other.

Jaro dragged a slow, whistling breath through his nose, and he supposed he should be grateful the collar allowed him to even do that. It was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t howl or scream his rage, couldn’t move even to scratch the itch that had burned his back for what must have been an hour. But compared to what the torturer had done to Azrail, he’d been lucky. Even being forced into the arena to slaughter monsters, to kill their own rebel ally…

Jaro tried hard not to think about Merian, but her eyes haunted him. He never slept, hadn’t been allowed to, so he’d had plenty of time to torture himself with the memory of taking her life. She was kind, and bright, and good, and he’d killed her as viciously as he’d killed the valkor.

You did what was necessary to survive, Kaial cut into the destructive spiral of Jaro’s thoughts, sympathy entering his rough voice. She fought as viciously as you did.

She didn’t have a choice.

Neither did you. Now reach into the lake and pull up a single drop.

Jaro sighed and sank back into the lake, repeating the attempt he’d been making for hours.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed like that, Jaro’s eyes closed as he focused on stretching a single drop of power into a thread, into a needle.

Yes! Kaial hissed when the needle pierced the pewter of the collar. Jaro focused on the flow of his magic, could feel the sharp edges of it as dagger-sharp power cut metal, widening the existing fracture. Keep going, pull from the lake, but do it—

Slowly, Jaro finished, well used to this lecture now. His fur was stifling, and if he’d been in human form his face would have been drenched in sweat, but if Kaial wasn’t lecturing him about burning out no damn chance was he stopping now. He ground his teeth as he pulled another shard of magic from the lake, careful not to let it grow into the ice dagger he used to kill the valkor. One false move and he’d slit his own throat. But controlling it was a lot harder than letting it rampage.

Heat flashed through his skin so suddenly that a groan escaped his clenched jaws, fighting even the collar’s control and Samlyn’s command over him.

I can’t, he panted, about to release the drop.

No! Kaial yelled. You’re almost there, keep pushing. Don’t rush; persevere.

Jaro gritted his teeth, sharp canines slicing through his lip as he tightened his grip on the sharp drop of magic, panting as he formed it, excruciatingly slowly, into a needle-thin strand. He was so hot it hurt, but he directed the needle towards the collar, and sagged in relief the moment it pierced the collar.

He was so surprised by the movement, by the freedom of controlling his own body again, that his jaw hit stone hard and he moaned.

Don’t stay down long, Kaial warned. They’ll realise you’re free. Keep the collar around your throat and they’ll never guess until it’s too late.

You’re free. Those words echoed around Jaro’s head, over and over, until his breathing quickened into ragged gasps, his head spinning. He really was free. The collar had lost its command over him. He was still locked up, still captive, but he could fight the commands. He wouldn’t have to kill another friend.

Jaro allowed himself another moment and then pulled himself off the floor, flattening his back into the corner where he’d sat for days, face pointed at the door.

What do we do now? He asked Kaial, staring unblinkingly at the solid wood separating him from the rest of the palace.

Bide our time, the saint replied. And plan their downfall.