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D arius’ words rattled around in her mind, but she couldn’t make sense of them. “What do you mean I’m your kin?”

“You share my blood,” Darius said. “Well, not my blood exactly. We both share my father’s blood, the blood of King Tristaine Solaria. Your relation to him is diluted over many generations, but I can still sense it when I stand before you. The same way my son thought he sensed the weight of prophecy on you. That’s what his report had said. That the moment he saw you as a child, he felt a connection and knew you were the prophesied mother. Can you imagine how embarrassed he’d be to discover just how wrong he was? What he felt wasn’t the magical tug of prophecy, but the connection fae feel to their kin. Had he been humble enough to harbor at least a shred of doubt, he’d have done his due diligence to follow your family tree. He’d have followed your mother’s ancestry to the Southern Islands, then several generations back to King Tristaine of Syrus, his grandfather.”

Cora didn’t know what to think. What to feel. She was distantly related to Morkai. He’d targeted her, hurt her, cursed her all because of a prophecy and a sense of connection he hadn’t understood.

He’d been wrong.

So recklessly and foolishly wrong.

Every conclusion he’d come to about Cora had been the result of his mistakes.

Everything she’d suffered.

Every loss she’d been forced to bear.

Rage boiled inside her, curling her fingers into fists. Flames filled her mind’s eye as a dark weight fell over her, smothering her.

Then a whispered voice. Should it have been her?

A thorn of guilt shattered her anger. She forced the dark thoughts from her mind, forced her fury to cool enough to maintain her tether to the present.

Darius spoke again. “I truly mean it when I say I don’t want us to be enemies. All I ask is for one hour of your time. Just see what Syrus is like. See what kind of king I truly am. Hear me out, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

She breathed deeply, opening her senses to him, to his energy.

“I will not hurt you,” he said, “nor will I demand an answer about our alliance today. I will give you time to decide.”

She tested the flow of his energy, its lack of constriction. His words didn’t feel like a lie.

While she couldn’t imagine anything that could convince her to ally with him, this could give her a chance to learn more. And she had one advantage.

She could worldwalk.

Darius had made no mention of her abilities yet, and he couldn’t have learned about them from his son’s report. Morkai would have relayed details about Cora’s clairsentience, but he’d never learned about her worldwalking powers while he’d been alive. It was possible Darius suspected she was a worldwalker based on their shared bloodline with Tristaine, but the ability obviously wasn’t gifted to all his descendants. Morkai hadn’t been able to worldwalk. Cora’s mother hadn’t shown even the slightest inclination toward magic.

As far as Darius knew, she was just a clairsentient witch, still learning her magic.

Her abilities may not be as impressive as Darius’ were, but if she sensed danger, she could disappear in a heartbeat, just like him. And maybe, if she could catch him unaware, if she could get hold of a weapon, even just a knife…

She could end his life.

But what had Ailan said about killing him?

He can be killed just like the rest of my kind—beheading or excessive blood loss.

He can be killed so long as he can be outsmarted .

She wasn’t sure she could behead or force excessive blood loss while outsmarting him, but there was at least a chance.

And if he could take her away by force anyway…

She sidled closer to Teryn. They kept their gazes on Darius for several long beats before exchanging a quick glance. Cora gave him a subtle nod, which made his jaw tighten. Just as quickly, they returned their attention to Darius.

Cora opened her mouth to accept his terms, but Teryn spoke first.

“I want a blood oath. That’s how humans secured vows in ancient times, predating written contracts.”

Darius smirked. “Yes, I know how history books work.”

“Then cut your palm and state the promise you made earlier. That you will escort Queen Aveline safely to and from Syrus, and that you will take her from Ridine for no longer than an hour, and that neither you nor anyone else will cause her harm.”

Darius narrowed his eyes. “When I asked if blood mattered to you, this wasn’t what I’d had in mind. Are you like my son, then? Dabbling in blood magic because you’re not strong enough to do anything else?”

Cora couldn’t help the furrow that formed between her brows. Why did Teryn want a blood pact from Darius? She’d never known him to value such old-fashioned traditions.

Teryn shrugged. “You’re about to abduct my wife. If you fear I’ll use your blood for nefarious purposes, then I’d say it makes the terms of our agreement almost even.”

“Only almost?”

“My wife’s safety is priceless. There’s nothing you could give me but your life that could balance the scales. So I’ll ask for your blood.”

Darius continued to eye Teryn, but he drew his knife nevertheless. “Very well,” he said with clear reluctance. Holding out his hand, he sliced the blade across his palm. A red line appeared, and as he squeezed his fingers into a fist, a drop of blood fell to the stones. Then another. “I, Darius Solaria, hereby promise that I will escort Queen Aveline, by way of worldwalking, safely to and from Syrus, and that we will stray to no other kingdom. I vow that I will return her to Ridine by the end of an hour or allow her to leave on her own at any time. Furthermore, I vow that neither I nor anyone else will cause her harm at any time during the course of our agreement.”

Cora analyzed his words, seeking loopholes. Not that it mattered. Like he’d already admitted, this wasn’t a magically binding vow, just an old tradition based on superstition. Maybe what Teryn had said was the important part. Instilling a hint of fear in Darius could make him keep his word.

She breathed deeply, connecting to all the elements and sought any sign that this was wrong. Dread pulsed back, as did anxiety, but she felt no clairsentient warning. No inkling that this might be a trap.

“All right,” she said, voice thick. On trembling legs, she strode out from behind Teryn. He grasped her hand as she passed him, squeezing it. She squeezed it back in wordless reassurance. Her lungs tightened as she released his palm, felt his fingers slip from hers. She took another step. “I’m ready.”

In the next breath, Darius stood before her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, then?—

Cora was gone. Teryn hadn’t been prepared. Hadn’t even seen Darius move. He and Cora had come to the same conclusion—that they didn’t have much of a choice but to humor him. Not when Darius held Ridine at his mercy. Not when he could come back at any time, fill their castle with countless soldiers, and claim victory by morning.

Either Darius was less capable than he’d made himself seem or he truly was desperate for an alliance with them.

They needed to find out which was true.

And how to exploit it.

That didn’t lessen his terror at having witnessed him taking her like that. His rage at knowing he’d agreed to let him take her.

Hatred burned hot in his chest as he narrowed his eyes at the three spots of blood on the stones. Without a second thought, he marched into his sitting room, extracted a piece of parchment from the bureau, and placed the paper over the blood until crimson bloomed over it.

“What are you doing?” Emylia’s voice came from beside him. She was as semi-transparent as always, outfitted in an equally hazy loose dress that billowed on a nonexistent breeze.

“Were you here the whole time?” he asked, his tone low and controlled. If she’d been there before, he hadn’t noticed her. He’d been too focused on Darius and Cora. “Did you enjoy the show? Did you just stand there mute and watch him take her?”

“What could I have done?”

He was being unfair in taking his frustration out on her, but she’d been avoiding him ever since their last conversation on the battlement. When she’d refused to explain what she’d meant about feeling like she’d disappear if she came too close to him. He understood exactly why now. Because touching her ethera would force her to move on to the otherlife. To claim the peace she’d said she’d wanted but hadn’t been able to receive. Peace she’d only find after taking care of her unfinished business.

He knew the truth.

She didn’t want to move on yet.

And he didn’t want her hypocrisy right now.

Teryn finished soaking the blood into the paper and folded it. As he rose, he met Emylia’s accusing gaze.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to do what I think you are,” she said.

“What is it you think I’m doing?”

Her lower lip wobbled as her fingers curled into fists. “Let me ask you a question. Why have you been going to that tower room? Why have you been reading that book? You know it’s dangerous. You know what that book has done.”

He did know, but it didn’t shake his resolve, even though she was right in every way. He had no right going into the North Tower Library, reading the book Cora had left stashed inside a nightstand drawer. Seeking answers to the question that had plagued his mind over the past week.

In truth, he hadn’t learned anything new, but he had confirmed what Emylia had told him when they’d last spoken. It had all been there, just like she’d described.

“Why, Teryn? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want Morkai’s army of souls.”

Her disappointment in him was plain, written in the downward curve of her mouth, the slump of her shoulders.

He shared some of that disappointment too. He’d wanted to wait until he could talk to Cora about it, but now he didn’t have time. He needed to act. If Darius returned to attack the castle, he’d be ready. He wouldn’t let him win. Whether now, later, or at the meeting at the border, he’d use this advantage.

“There must be a reason why I have this ability,” he said. “This connection to death.”

“Reason?” She released an angry huff. “What are you talking about? Do you think you’re part of the prophecy? You’re not. There is no special reason for what has happened to you, just a logical one. Blood magic comes with consequences, just like I’ve told you. You completed a blood weaving while you straddled the line between life and death. You forged a magical connection with death. It’s as simple as that.”

“Why, though? Why this consequence? Why does my touch send etheras to the otherlife?”

She flinched back at his words, demonstrating just how afraid she was of that very power. Then she shook her head. “We might never know. Maybe it’s because you succeeded at severing another ethera’s ties to your body—Morkai’s tie to the mortal world. Now you’re gifted and burdened with the ability to do the same for other spirits. To sever the chains that bind them here and free them.”

He clenched his jaw. “Then why can’t I use it for good?”

“ Are you trying to use it for good? Or are you lusting after blood magic for revenge?” When he said nothing, she closed her eyes. Finally, her expression softened. She turned a pleading look to him. “Just…take a moment, Teryn, please. Breathe. Connect to your heart. Don’t work blood magic on an impulse.”

He wasn’t acting on impulse. He’d been considering this for a week, weighing possibilities. Still, she was right about blood magic and its consequences. She knew better than anyone that what he wanted to do was wrong. Dark. Forbidden.

Reluctantly, he gave in and closed his eyes. Just like when he’d been trapped as a disembodied ethera, he connected to his breaths, his heartbeat, the rush of his blood, the pound of his pulse. Slowly, he began to relax. His muscles uncoiled, his heartbeat slowed, and the most delicious euphoria struck him. The euphoria of being alive. In his body. In control. It wasn’t an impassioned or impulsive feeling. It was real and steady.

He shifted his thoughts to what he’d been considering.

No doubts stood in his way. No guilt. No fear. No remorse.

“I’m doing it, Emylia.”

Teryn didn’t wait to see if she followed him out of the castle to the charred field, the folded piece of paper stained with Darius’ blood in his hand. Maintaining the same calm he’d felt after sinking into his bodily sensations, he crouched at the edge of the dead field, just like he’d witnessed Morkai doing the day he demonstrated the abilities of his wraiths. He’d been summoning his Roizan then, but Teryn did it for a different reason now.

He unfolded the bloodstained paper and pressed it against the charred soil. Then he watched and waited. There was, of course, a chance that this wouldn’t work. He couldn’t perform Morkai’s ritual exactly, only use it to inform his own actions. He didn’t have any leftover vials of Morkai’s blood, just this crimson parchment.

Yet soon a rippling fog crept over the field, much like it had when Teryn had first met the wraiths. Body parts began to materialize—arms, legs, heads, torsos—until the field was filled with hazy soldiers with empty pits for eyes.

Slowly, Teryn rose to his feet and faced the army. Their forms undulated, as if they struggled to maintain their hold on sentience. There was no ferocity in them, none of the violence they’d shown when Morkai had ordered them to fight.

Teryn would have to stir that ferocity himself.

“You lost your lives fighting for King Darius,” he said, his voice carrying over the field. He internally winced, hoping none of the castle residents or staff woke up to his voice only to find him talking to himself. Or would they be able to see the wraiths too?

He continued. “You died trapped between worlds, and because of that, you lost your heart-centers. Your connection to life and the otherlife. Morkai gave you a second chance at your lives as great warriors and promised peace when he’d accomplished his goals. Yet he too left you behind.”

Some of the wraiths’ forms ceased wavering and began to sharpen. Their empty eye sockets seemed to lock onto him, craving more of his words.

“Your former masters may have abandoned you, but I will not. Unlike those you served before, I can make good on a promise of peace. You feel it, don’t you? That yearning.”

Even more of their forms sharpened, and he tasted their yearning in turn. It grew ravenous. Palpable. The entire field radiated with it.

He was suddenly aware of the danger he was in and how quickly this situation could turn. Should the wraiths want, they could swarm him. They could claim their own oblivion or cut him with their blades.

Clearing his throat, he spoke again. “I can give you purpose and peace. I can give you revenge for being so cruelly abandoned.”

His words were manipulative, he knew that. Neither master had meant to abandon them, but soft words wouldn’t instill purpose in an undead warrior.

“I won’t force you to fight again and again, driving your reanimation through blood magic.” The truth was, he couldn’t make them reanimate. Not without a blood weaving, and Teryn wasn’t willing to do that. And based on what Emylia had said on the battlement, Morkai had been able to secure the wraiths’ loyalty through promises alone, but being defeated in battle would end their bloodlust. Which meant Teryn was limited to how long he could use them. And he only intended to use them once. Whether it ended up being in defense of the castle or to defeat Darius at the border meeting, he’d only do this one time.

He continued. “I won’t make you wait for some far-off goal before I make good on what I offer you. All I ask is for one final battle. One last act of noble violence.”

He reached for the letter opener he’d taken from the bureau before coming to the field. Digging its tip into his forearm, he made a shallow cut. He held out his arm and let his blood drip onto the black soil. “This is my blood. This is the blood you will follow when next I call for you, to fight one last time. This is the blood that will end your hunger and lay your souls to rest.”

His heart hammered against his ribs as he waited for their reaction.

Then, as one, the wraiths bent to the earth on one knee and bowed their heads.

Seven devils, it worked. He’d earned their loyalty, just like Morkai.

He heaved a relieved breath.

“That wasn’t truly blood magic.” Emylia appeared beside him. Or had she been there all along?

“No,” he said, “just a blood vow. A promise I can fulfill.”