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H er eyes flew open at once. “What?”

“I need you to channel my mother’s ethera.”

She shook her head. “I’m a seer, not a medium. I don’t commune with the dead.”

“If you can see her, you can draw her forth. I told you; I’ve been reading about the Art of the ethera and sanguina. I’ve studied your Art too. You can use the sight to channel my mother.”

“Des…”

“You’re powerful enough to do this. I know you are. If I’m not going to see her again like Father promised, then I must at least speak to her.” He paused, then added, “You said you’d do anything for me.”

Emylia pursed her lips, and for a moment Teryn thought she might refuse. Then her expression softened. Her voice came out small. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said. “Please find her. The spirit of Morgana Solaria.”

Her eyes widened. “Morgana Solaria,” she echoed. “The Queen of Syrus? You…You’re…”

“Prince Desmond Solaria. Son of King Darius Solaria.”

A look of hurt crossed her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You loved me for me. I wanted someone to love me as I am. For once.” Emylia stared back at him, brow furrowed. A tic formed at the corner of Desmond’s jaw. “Besides, Father always told me being a royal of this world was nothing when we were the true monarchs of the fae. Now will you find her or not?”

She gave him a curt nod and settled into her meditation.

The room fell under a tense silence as seconds ticked past. Then minutes.

Desmond remained in place at the other side of the desk, hands perched upon his knees. The only sign of his anxiety was the slight jitter of his leg.

“I see her,” Emylia whispered.

Desmond sat upright, posture rigid. “You…you do?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “She looks just like you.”

“Make eye contact. Draw her to you.”

“I…I don’t know?—”

“Do it.”

Emylia returned to silence. Then, “I made eye contact. She…she doesn’t look happy.”

“Draw her soul to yours. See yourself connecting with her mind. When she’s close, touch her ethera.”

Emylia trembled from head to toe. “She…she doesn’t want me to touch her.”

“Do it, Emylia,” Desmond growled. “Do it now.”

Emylia let out a strangled cry, then her eyes shot open. Rage darkened her expression. “Desmond,” she said, but her voice sounded wrong. Too deep. Too lilting. “What have you done?”

Desmond clasped a hand over his mouth, his expression twisted with emotion. His throat bobbed. Once. Twice. Finally, he lowered his hand and approached Emylia. “I wanted to hear your voice again, Mother. I miss you so much.”

His mother’s voice hesitated before it emerged from Emylia’s mouth again. “I missed you too, my darling, but this isn't right. You should leave me at peace.”

“I want you to come back.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“What if it is?” With slow, deliberate movements, Desmond leaned forward. One palm covered Emylia’s hands and the crystal within. The other reached for the collar of his jacket and began to loosen the buttons, one at a time.

“What are you doing, Desmond?” his mother’s voice asked.

“I want you back, and I’m willing to sacrifice half my heart to get it.” He now had the top of his coat unbuttoned. He pulled it back to reveal a strange marking on the white shirt he wore beneath it. It was a complex pattern drawn over his sternum, illustrated with a dark ink Teryn suspected was blood.

“No!” his mother’s voice shouted, erupting from Emylia’s lips. A cyclone of air spiraled around Emylia, blowing the seer’s hair back and sending papers soaring off the desk. “I don't want to come back! Leave me at peace!”

“No, Mother,” Desmond said calmly as he lifted Emylia’s hands and brought them toward the marking on his shirt. “I need you.”

The wind increased, and Desmond struggled to bring her hands the rest of the way to his chest. The lanterns lighting the room flared in a roar of fire, casting it in an orange glow. Emylia’s face angled up at Desmond, her lips peeled back from her teeth. “Let. Me. Go.”

Teryn wasn’t sure whose voice spoke then, for it seemed both Emylia and Desmond’s mother cried out in tandem.

Desmond’s eyes went wide as he looked down at Emylia, at her twisted expression. He seemed to falter, and the cyclone of wind increased. Desmond stumbled back, breaking contact with Emylia’s hands. She, in turn, dropped the crystal and tumbled from her chair.

In the next moment, the wind was gone, the lanterns extinguished save for one.

Teryn blinked to adjust to the shift in light.

“Why, Mother?” came Desmond’s trembling voice. He stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears, shoulders slumped. “Why didn’t you want to come back? Is your love for me so weak?”

Only silence answered.

With a heavy sigh, he lowered his gaze. Teryn saw the motionless heap on the floor before Desmond did.

“Emylia!” Desmond called out, rushing to her side. She was sprawled beside her chair, lips pale, face coated in a sheen of sweat. Her crystal lay a foot away from her empty palm. He fell onto the floor and pulled her into his lap. “Say something. Please!”

She mumbled incoherently as blood trickled from her nose.

“No, please no.” He rocked her in his lap, tears streaming from his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me, Em. I did this. I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Des,” she said, voice weak. She lifted a hand toward his cheek but dropped it before it could make contact. Her face went slack, body limp. Fresh blood trickled over her lips, her chin.

Desmond stared down at her, eyes wide with terror. “No, no, no. Emylia!”

She was silent. Still.

A sob broke from Desmond’s throat. He pressed his hands to her cheeks, her neck, her wrist, hands trembling with every move. As he released her wrist, his eyes fell on what lay discarded beside her. The crystal. His trembling ceased. With a chilling calm, he grabbed the amber stone. Then, folding her limp fingers around it, he pressed it to his chest, directly over the blood marking his shirt. As soon as the crystal made contact, Desmond heaved forward with an agonized grunt. He stayed like that for several moments, eyes pinched tight. Then his face relaxed. Slowly, he let Emylia’s hand slide from around the crystal, from his chest, to the ground.

He cradled the crystal to him. “I’ll make this right, Em,” he whispered. “I’ll bring you back. I’ve given up half my heart to do so. It belongs to you now.”

He crouched beside Emylia’s lifeless body and caressed her brow. “Forget my father. Let him stay cursed.” He brought his lips close to her ear. “I’ll find the Heart of El’Ara myself. I’ll find the mother and make sure she never bears this true Morkara. Then when I am Morkaius, I’ll find you a new body and we will rule together.”

Teryn felt colder than he ever had before. He no longer held any doubt about who Desmond was. He wasn’t Morkai’s son, but the sorcerer himself. And he’d trapped Emylia in the crystal out of a dark and treacherous love.

Teryn slowly turned to face her and noted her pursed lips, her empty eyes. “He didn’t wait until he was Morkaius,” she said, voice hollow.

She waved her hand, and their surroundings shifted. Teryn found himself in a candlelit bedroom he’d never seen before. From the gilded portraits lining the walls and the elegant furnishings, Teryn guessed it was inside a palace or manor. The only thing that belied the room’s grandeur was the table that stood at the far end of the room, its surface littered with books, vials, and stacks of paper. It reminded Teryn of the contents in the tower library.

Beside a large four-poster bed stood Morkai—and this time Teryn could see all the signs that he was a slightly older version of Desmond. He had the same ageless grace that the former duke had when he’d been alive, but the tender sorrow he’d glimpsed in the younger man’s eyes too. He stared down at the bed. Or, more accurately, the female body that laid upon it.

She was slim with hollow cheeks and black hair streaked with silver. Morkai trembled. “We’ll try again, Em.”

The image stilled, then shifted. The room stayed the same but there was a new body on the bed. Another young woman. This one thrashed and cried as blood streamed from her eyes and nose. With a sudden lurch, she went still. Morkai threw his head back. “We’ll try again.”

Another image.

Another body.

Another.

Another.

Teryn watched the images flash before him, each one more gruesome, more heartbreaking, than the last.

Emylia waved a hand and the final scene froze. “Morkai knew there was no hope until he had the power of the Morkaius. Too late, he’d learned that to bring an ethera back to life in another’s body, one needed blood from the original body. By now, my body was long since gone. Still he tried.”

Teryn swallowed hard before voicing the question he needed an answer to. “You…you tried to do what Morkai is doing to me, didn’t you? That’s why you know so much. You’ve not only been in my position, but Morkai’s too; the trapped spirit and the invading entity.”

She gave a solemn nod. “For the first few attempts, I participated. I was a willing accomplice in trying to take over another’s body. He chose women who were unwell. Women who would have died even without our magical interference. It was a mercy, he’d said. But it was clear that what we were doing wreaked havoc on a victim’s body. I stopped participating before he moved on to healthy women. By then, he’d also begun sacrificing lives to extend his own. It wasn’t his Elvyn blood that made him ageless, but the forbidden Arts. I realized then that the man I’d loved was gone. My refusal to participate in his efforts to bind me to a body made his attempts even more impossible. Years passed before he gave up altogether. Instead, he poured all his focus into finding the Heart of El’Ara and the mother of the true Morkara. He stopped looking for potential candidates for me. At least, for a while he did…”

She waved a hand, and their surroundings shifted yet again. They were now in the tower library at Ridine, the only light coming from the fire blazing in the hearth. Morkai stood beside one of the two chairs facing the hearth, his cane planted beneath him. Cora stood opposite him, in a puddle of spilled tea and broken porcelain. A tea table lay on its side.

Teryn’s heart raced as he strode between them. He knew this was only a memory, but he couldn’t help wanting to protect her from him.

Morkai stepped closer just the same. “I can give you half my heart.”

“Half your heart?” Cora said with a sneer. “Is that what you consider a proper proposal?”

“The other half doesn’t belong to me. But you could. I think my heart would like you. It’s a jealous heart, but it could come to understand.”

Teryn recalled what Morkai had said when he’d first trapped Emylia inside the crystal. How he’d cried out when he’d brought her hand and the stone to the marking on his shirt.

I’ll bring you back. I’ve given up half my heart to do so. It belongs to you now .

“Working with the ethera takes great sacrifice,” Emylia said. “To trap me, he had to sacrifice half of his heart-center—the spiritual aspect of his heart. That’s what made him colder. Deadlier.”

She waved her hand again, but the scene had only slightly changed. Cora was now doubled over, and a shaft of an arrow was protruding from Morkai’s ribs.

“I will give you time to choose me,” the sorcerer said. “And you will. You will choose one half of my heart willingly, or you will take the other half unwillingly.”

The image froze in place.

“Morkai no longer has even half a heart remaining,” Emylia said, “for binding his soul to the crystal with his dying breath stole the second half. He is heartless now, both halves trapped in the very crystal that holds our etheras.”

Teryn frowned at her, unsure why she was telling him this. Was she trying to make him understand the sorcerer? Pity him? But a far more pressing realization rose to his mind. “He said if she didn’t take half his heart willingly, she’d take his other half unwillingly. Does that mean…”

His mind spun. He couldn’t bear to say it out loud.

Emylia did so for him. “Yes. With his goals so close to being realized, he’d chosen his next target. He selected Cora to house my soul. Once he has the power of the Morkaius, he’ll do to her what he’s trying to do to you. With the power he seeks, Cora won’t have a fighting chance.”

Rage tore through him, boiling his blood, quickening his pulse. It took all his restraint to steady his breaths. “Tell me the truth, Emylia. What do you want? Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” she said, but her voice was empty. Tired. “I don’t want to come back, Teryn. I just want to be at rest.”

Teryn studied her for a few silent moments. She’d lied to him. Kept vital facts from him. After what she’d shown him, what she’d confessed to doing, he was even less sure he could trust her than he’d been before.

And yet, she was his only hope. He needed her to unravel the weaving in her memories, seek the pattern Morkai had used to strengthen the crystal’s density. Only then did they have any chance of getting free.

Unless…

Had Emylia been telling the truth when she’d said her memory had been too hazy? That she’d been too distant to see the pattern clearly?

She narrowed her eyes, and her expression hardened. “Think what you want of me. Hate me if you must. Distrust me. Just please believe that all I want is to be free from my cage and take the monster who trapped me here with me.”

Teryn was taken aback by the sudden ferocity in her tone. The rage that rippled through her, strong enough to match his own.

He gave her a curt nod. “Then we continue with our plan.”

“We take him down,” she said.

To himself Teryn added, And protect the woman I love, no matter what it takes .