Page 28 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Madinia

Calysian arranges for our room, sending me occasional concerned glances. The innkeeper leads us upstairs, chattering the entire time, and I nod at the right places, unable to focus on anything she’s saying.

Finally, she beams at Calysian, thrusting out her chest so the candlelight plays across her impressive breasts. “Let me know if there’s anything you need. Anything at all,” she says.

“That will be all.” My voice is cold, and Calysian gives me an amused look as the innkeeper disappears.

“I…I need a few minutes,” I tell him.

He frowns. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No. I just…I need some air.” It’s a terrible excuse considering we’ve been traveling all day, and Calysian’s eyes turn flat.

“Fine.”

I leave him standing in the plush room and hurry downstairs, sucking in deep breaths. My chest is tight, my ears ringing, and I walk aimlessly, until a familiar neighing sound jolts me into awareness.

I’ve made my way behind the inn, near the stables. The grazing field is small but impressive considering we’re in the middle of the city. And yet all of the horses are stabled. I lean on the fence and stare into the inky darkness of the field, my chest tight.

This is my own fault.

I made a conscious choice to work with Calysian. I chose to take him to bed, chose to wake up in his arms, chose to trust him with my life.

If anyone is to blame for the crack in my heart, it’s me.

I tighten my hands on the wooden fence, forcing my breathing to slow. It’s fine. I’m not in love with him. He’s simply the first man to keep his promises, the first man to see beyond my face and care about who I am as a woman. Of course that would be a novelty for someone like me. Of course it would lead me to believe there was something deeper between us.

Besides, even if there was something deeper, it wouldn’t matter. Calysian will always choose his grimoires.

And I will always choose to betray him.

As if my thought has conjured it, Asinia’s pigeon lands on the fence in front of me. With a sigh, I gently ease the note free, reading Asinia’s careful handwriting.

Even after all this time, it takes me only a few moments to break the code.

We are on the way. Everything is arranged. You know what to do.

My stomach swims, but I reply, sending the pigeon on its way.

“Madinia.”

I jolt, whirl, and press my back against the fence. I know better than to be lost in my own thoughts out here alone.

I’m so busy berating myself, it takes me a moment to recognize the girl standing near the door of the stables.

“Fliora?” My mind spins. She’s covered in mud and dust, her hair tangled, her lips chapped. She looks like she has been traveling since I left her with her aunt Yalanda weeks ago. “What are you doing here?”

Guilt stabs through my chest. I ruined this girl’s life. And I’ve only thought of her a few times since.

“I had to find you. It took a long time. But Eamonn helped.”

A gray dog darts into the stable and plants itself at Fliora’s feet. Eamonn opens his mouth, letting his tongue loll.

And I’d been wondering if he was safe.

“When did you get here? Where are you staying? I’ll get you a room.”

“No. Wait.” Even in this form, Eamonn is somehow able to level me with a hard stare. “This is important.” He turns his head, listening. And then he trots around the field, Fliora shrugs at me and follows his footsteps.

With a sigh, I trail after them, until Eamonn is sure we’re alone. He plants himself on the grass, staring solemnly up at me.

My skin suddenly feels too tight for my body, and there’s a strange fluttering in my stomach.

Fliora sits cross-legged on the grass. “When you left me with my aunt, she was fine for a few days. And then something began to change. She kept leaving, disappearing for hours at a time. Eventually, I followed her.” Fliora chews on her lower lip and plucks a handful of grass, absently running it through her fingers. “She walked into the forest until she came to an…altar. She knelt, bowing her head. And she began to pray aloud.”

I resist the urge to shake her, to demand she gets to the point.

“She began to pray…” I say encouragingly.

Fliora meets my eyes. “I learned my aunt worships someone who wants to hurt you.”

“Someone who—I don’t understand.”

Fliora holds out a flask. “I know. That’s why I stole this. My aunt was planning to use it for one of her clients.”

“Someone who wanted to remember their past life,” I guess, my mind showing me that kitchen, the blightflower petals, the vials.

Fliora smirks. “The woman is convinced she was once a queen. Why is it that no one ever thinks they might have been a maid in their past life?”

My lips twitch. “Why is it you think I need this? I don’t have a past life.”

She sends me an impatient look. “That’s exactly what someone who can’t remember their past life would say.”

Eamonn stretches. “She has a point.”

I give him a hard stare. “I’m responsible for her mother’s death. Her aunt worships someone who wants to hurt me. And you want me to drink her tonic?”

Fliora grins at me. It’s a surprisingly charming grin, and it reminds me of the brief smile her mother gave me. “It sounds bad when you describe it like that ,” she admits. Her expression turns serious. “I’m having visions too. Not as many as my mother…” her voice catches, and her eyes glisten.

“One of those visions told you I need to learn about a past life.”

She nods, wiping at her eyes.

“Drink it.” Eamonn’s voice is low, insistent, and my skin prickles.

A strange sensation washes over me. A sensation that’s not quite dread but close to it. It feels as if I’m at a turning point in my life. Choose one way, and I can go on as I have. Choose the other, and my life will fundamentally change.

I’m not sure I have the strength for another fundamental change.

And yet I can feel time ticking down.

“Will it help me stop Calysian?”

Fliora shrugs. “All I know is my aunt wouldn’t want you to drink it.”

Her face flashes in my mind, and I can see the cold fury in her eyes when she looked at Calysian.

I glance at Eamonn. “If this is poison, I expect you to avenge me.”

Eamonn pads closer, angling his head as he gazes up at me. “Trust may not come easily to you, Madinia, but I’m asking for it with this.”

“Calysian—”

“This could be the key to saving him. Drink.”

Fear curls in my body, even as both of them stare at me expectantly. Taking the flask, I suck in a deep breath. The tonic is bitter, sour, and somehow…smoky. I gag once, and then I’m swept away.

We walk slowly, filing into the temple—ten women, all of whom have devoted our lives to our goddess. The marble floor is cool beneath my bare feet, the air thick with the scent of sacred oils—the faint tang of copper lingering beneath.

Fires shift and tremble in the braziers, making shadows dance across walls etched with the stories of Anarthys, goddess of fire and sacred sacrifice.

One by one, my sisters walk down the aisle toward our goddess. Even after so many years, I barely dare to breathe as I approach, bowing my head.

The goddess Anarthys may not be known for her mercy, but she is known for her power. All of us were plucked from our small mortal lives as children, purely because we were pleasing to her in some way. While we may not have been given a choice to serve, we were rewarded with the gift of reincarnation.

We will serve her in this life, along with all others.

Anarthys sits on her gold throne, her head canted as she watches us. Her long blonde hair tumbles down her back, her green eyes so vibrant, they seem to glow.

Someone snorts. The sound is so out of place in our goddess’s temple, I stiffen—as do several of my sisters. Two men stand at the temple’s entrance. Both are shockingly handsome, and both radiate the kind of power that makes my knees weak.

Gods.

They step into the temple, ignoring our gasps. The one on the left is blond, with pale blue eyes and a vaguely pleasant expression. It is as if the one next to him is his image in reverse, with dark hair and eyes, his expression indolent.

“Is all this really necessary, Anarthys?” The darker one asks, waving his hand to encompass the entire temple. His eyes meet mine briefly before moving on, and yet my cheeks flame, and I shift my feet as one of my sisters hisses a breath.

We are not supposed to gaze at men. Anarthys made that much clear when she took us.

“I am a goddess,” Anarthys purrs. “I should be worshipped as such.”

“You tried to convince the seer to tell you my foretelling,” the dark-haired one says, and his voice echoes with a subtle threat.

Anarthys merely smiles. “Are you truly so weak that my visit to the seer would concern you?”

“Seers cannot share someone else’s fate. Cease your games. Our time together is over.”

“It is over when I say it is over. Men do not cast me aside, Calpharos.”

Calpharos. I’ve heard of him and his twin. One truly is dark, the other light. Together, they represent balance. Apart, they create chaos.

My skin prickles, and I lift my gaze, finding the dark god staring unapologetically at me.

Anarthys hisses a warning, and I drop my eyes, but not before I narrow them at the god who dared upset my goddess.

A flicker of amusement crosses his face, and then all I can see is Anarthys’s bare feet as she strides from her throne, her gauzy gown swirling around her ankles.

“If you wish to speak to me, we will converse elsewhere,” she says.

And then all three of them are gone.

“Ugh,” I clamp a hand to my temple, as pain slices into my mind, sharp as a blade. “What is this?”

Eamonn’s eyes meet mine. “Memories.”

“Impossible.”

But I’m already bracing myself once more.

“Will you join us sister? We will go the river and bathe.”

“Perhaps later. I’d like to take a walk.”

Liona nods, linking her arm through Yalanda’s. “We will join you later then.”

They walk down the temple steps, and a strange sense of restlessness burns through me. Truthfully, I would like to wander the city, would like to watch the people gathered in the market, the children racing through the streets.

I would like to see my parents.

Such a thought is shocking, and I glance behind me, as if Anarthys will appear and punish me.

But I am being unnecessarily morbid. Anarthys may not be known for her benevolence, but she has never caused any of us harm.

And even she cannot read our minds.

“It is good to see you again.” The low male voice comes from behind me, and I jolt, whirl, and stumble, all at once.

A strong hand catches my arm, ensuring I keep my feet. I look into familiar dark eyes and suck in a breath, lowering my head in a bow.

He catches my chin. “Look at me.”

His brows lower, and my heart thrashes in my chest. The dark god. If he wanted, he could strike me down in a moment.

The rumors I’ve heard…

“You’re trembling.”

“You are the dark god.”

Something I don’t recognize flickers through those eyes, but I get the strange feeling my fear…disappoints him.

Impossible.

He releases me with a sigh, raking a hand through his hair and suddenly…he’s not so terrifying. If anything, he looks bewildered by my reaction.

My heart twists. How often must he see such fear from others? “I was going to go for a walk,” I say. “Would you like to join me?”

His gaze…gentles. “I am afraid I cannot.” He cuts his eyes to the temple behind me, and the sky darkens above us, thick clouds covering the sun.

“Oh.” My cheeks flame, and I wish I could disappear. This man is a god. He is here to visit a goddess. “Of course you cannot.” I force myself to bow my head once more. “Goodbye.”

A warm hand cups my chin, and my heart skips a beat. “I cannot today ,” he says. “But I will have to insist you walk with me another time.”

I’m suddenly speechless, my mouth dry. Calpharos gives me a look that seems almost… fond. And then he’s prowling toward the temple.

The clouds burst, unleashing a torrent of rain.

I stumble dizzily, and Fliora takes my arm, helping me sit. “What are you remembering?”

“They’re not memories. They can’t be. This is some kind of trick.”

But fog is creeping into my mind, and I’m swept up in them once more.

“Anarthys wants to see you.”

Liona’s eyes hold a deep concern, her hands shaking.

My heart leaps into my throat. “What is wrong?”

“I do not know. But I have a deep certainty that you are in grave danger, sister.”

“You cannot believe Anarthys would harm me.” Such a suggestion is blasphemy. And yet…

I have woken several times over the past few nights, my heart pounding at the memory of the poisonous look the goddess gave me last time I saw her.

I cannot understand what I have done to upset her so.

Either way, I cannot deny her my presence.

Liona throws her arms around me in an embrace that is deeply unusual for her. I squeeze her back. “I will be fine. We will eat together tonight.”

“Finally,” Anarthys says when I reach the temple. Yalanda stands beside our goddess, her gaze shifting to the ground.

“You’re dismissed,” Anarthys snaps, and Yalanda walks away, her eyes still carefully averted from mine. “And you,” Anarthys says, stepping close to me as I kneel at her feet. “Cease your pretense at devotion.”

Hurt flashes through me and I dare to meet her eyes. My pretense? I have been devoted to my goddess since I was a small child. Since the moment she informed my parents she would be taking me.

“I do not understand.”

“Do not lie to me. Tell me, how long have you been sneaking away to meet with Calpharos?”

The words are a shock, and I blink. “I have not.”

The dark god. She’s speaking of the dark god. But the one and only time I spoke to him was on the steps of this temple.

“I saw the way he looked at you!”

Hands grab my arms, and I’m dragged to my feet. Guards. In here? Never has the goddess allowed human males into this sacred space before.

A deep sense of dread sparks in my stomach, spreading throughout my body. Liona was right.

But I can’t imagine why Anarthys would be so incensed with me.

She prowls toward me, her eyes frigid. When she holds out her hand, one of the guards at my side gives her a dagger.

Horror turns my lips numb, my knees weak. “Please—”

“One of my own acolytes, attempting to take from me. Such betrayal will be spoken of for centuries!”

“I would never betray you, Anarthys!”

“Oh, you would. You may not have betrayed me in all the ways that count, yet— but you would. Calpharos would seduce you as easily as blinking.”

My mouth falls open at the mere suggestion, and this seems to incense her further.

BOOM

Doors slam wide, and Calpharos’s twin stalks toward us. “Do not do this, Anarthys. It will not give you what you want.”

“You come to warn me, Eamonn? You, who suggested Calpharos visit the seer who told him who she would be to him?”

“You cannot change fate. No matter how many seers you torture and kill.”

Eamonn’s eyes meet mine, and they’re…kind. I’ve never spoken to him, but he’s looking at me as if he knows me.

Anarthys moves her dagger close to my neck, her breath warm on my face. “Fate?” She laughs, and it sounds like ringing bells. “I will bend fate to my wishes.”

Panic slides across Eamonn’s face. “She is the other half of his soul. You do this, and he will take his revenge.”

My heart jumps into my throat, my vision wavering. The other half of his soul?

Anarthys gives a hollow laugh. “Once this human is ended, he will return to my arms.”

I tense, and the guards tighten their hold. My limbs begin to shake.

“Anarthys. He will kill you.” Truth saturates Eamonn’s words.

A hint of something that might be fear flashes across Anarthys’s face, but her lush lips curve and she throws her head back with a vibrant laugh.

“Kill me? A goddess? He can try.”

“You think you know what he is. But you don’t. Calpharos will make you beg for death.”

“Such pleading is beneath you, Eamonn. With each word, you reveal your weakness. Calpharos won’t kill me. He is the dark god. This girl is a plaything, and one he will not miss.”

“Please…” My voice trembles, and Anarthys grabs my face, squeezing my cheeks.

“Silence. If you are truly meant to be, he can find you in a future life.” She smiles. “By then, I may be tired of him.”

The temple begins to shake, throwing us off balance. The guards curse as they’re forced to release me, their hands grabbing for me as my knees hit the ground. But I’m already crawling away, towards my only hope. Towards Eamonn.

He sprints for me, zig-zagging through slabs of stone and marble.

Pain lashes through my scalp. Someone has grabbed my hair, and they’re pulling me to my knees.

“How dare you!” Anarthys roars behind me, positioning her knife at my throat.

I catch sight of the bejeweled blade. I’ve carried that blade to her altar every day for two decades. How ironic that it is now to be used to kill me.

“This is not my doing,” Eamonn holds his hands up, although he’s now walking towards us, his eyes wild. “It’s Calpharos. He has learned of what you plan. His rage will destroy you.”

Thick, dark fog sweeps through the temple. From the fog, a dark shadow steps forward. His eyes are black, and my heart jolts as they meet mine. They shift above my head, and I see the promise of a death filled with suffering.

“Release her.” His voice echoes through the temple. Guards sprint towards him and he holds up a hand.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Three bodies drop. The others go very still.

“Hello, lover.” Anarthys’s voice is steady, but her hand tightens in my hair, her breaths turning shallow.

“Release her now .”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “You think you can take one of my acolytes? Would you breed with her, Calpharos? Would you watch as she grew fat and old and ugly and then would you cry as you buried her? Or would you choose a mortal life?” Her voice is filled with a deep disdain, and a strange sense of shame flickers in my chest.

Can I truly blame this goddess for being so enraged, when fate has tied the man she loves to a mortal?

It is difficult to believe such a thing could be true, but I can see the knowledge in Calpharos’s eyes. And I felt that deep, familiar knowing when we spoke. Despite my fear, I wanted to see him again. Wanted to talk to him.

A strange longing slides through my veins. A longing for something intangible. Something that might have been.

“I am doing you a favor,” Anarthys says. “Soulmates are not for ones such as us. And never mortal soulmates. She would make you weak. I am saving you from mourning later.”

“You are lashing out because I no longer want you. Such an action is beneath you, Anarthys. Release her, and we will settle this ourselves.”

“Would you kill me, Calpharos? For daring to touch your little mortal?”

He takes a single step closer, and Anarthys presses the blade to my skin. A sharp sting, and I feel the first drops of blood drip down my neck.

The dark god freezes. And his expression turns predatory. He focuses all that feral intent on Anarthys, and I feel her shudder.

“You would. You would kill me even now. I told you I wanted to be with you for eternity.”

“I never said the same to you. I never gave you false promises.”

“You are mine!”

The remaining guards slump to the floor. I can see one of them to my left, almost close enough to nudge with my foot. His eyes are open as he stares vacantly at nothing.

Dead.

“I should have known you would lash out like this,” Anarthys says. “I thought I would give you a chance to be reasonable, but I have other plans in place. And you will regret this for the rest of your days.”

Eamonn’s eyes meet mine. They’re haunted, shocked. He’s looking at me as if I’m already dead.

Pain.

Vicious, all-encompassing pain that burns like a fire in my chest.

“No!” Calpharos’s roar makes the temple shake, and he lunges toward us.

And then I’m floating high above my body, drifting toward the ceiling as Calpharos holds me.

No. He’s holding my corpse.

I’m…dead.

“I will find you again,” Calpharos whispers over and over. “Come back, and I will find you again.”

When he looks up, his eyes are lifeless. Dark smoke pours from him once more, wrapping around Anarthys’s neck.

Slowly, gently, he lays my body on the ground. “You dare take from me?”

Anarthys chokes, and he releases his smoke long enough for her to answer.

“You stole my future from me.” Her words are a low taunt. “So I took yours from you. You didn’t think I’d allow you to live in happiness, did you, lover?”

The temple begins to collapse. Columns near the altar crash to the ground, and fear flashes across her face.

This woman I worshipped has ended my life. She took any hint of happiness I might have found and ruined it.

Cold rage floods me. Oh, I will return. And I will make her pay.

Calpharos steps closer to her with a vicious, predatory smile.

Her eyes widen. “Your siblings are coming for you,” she gasps out. “I’m warning you so you can fight.”

Guards rush through the temple doors, and it’s Eamonn who stalks toward them, his face gray. Eamonn who calls a sword to his hand and cuts the guards down himself. With a last glance at Calpharos, he steps out of the temple to face any who think to interfere.

“You didn’t think I’d allow you to live after taking her from me, did you lover?” Calpharos’s laugh is cold, and I want to stay. Want to watch as he makes her hurt the way I hurt.

But I’m already being pulled in another direction, towards a place of warmth and light.

I lean over and empty my stomach. Fliora lets out a gasp, and I feel cool fingers pulling strands of my hair away from my face.

“Madinia? What is it?”

Eamonn sighs. “She likely just relived her murder. Give her a moment to come to terms with it.”

I retch again, and Fliora rubs my back, but her attention is still on Eamonn.

When I lift my head, he’s sitting in front of me, his round eyes solemn.

“I don’t understand.” My voice is hoarse, and I sit, the world spinning around me as I manage to focus on Fliora. “Your aunt is the one who told Anarthys I had been with Calpharos. But in…this life…she also told me to find the grimoires before Calpharos could. She made it sound like I would be protecting the world. She insisted I find them and keep them safe.”

“I don’t know what you saw,” Fliora says apologetically. “My aunt was in your memories?”

“She was one of the goddess’s acolytes. She betrayed me.”

Eamonn places one paw on my thigh. “Of course they would want you to take the grimoire. If you get to the grimoire first, someone can still take it from you. If Calysian gets to it first, they can’t.”

“Because once Calpharos takes the grimoires, they disappear.”

“Yes. They meld back into his soul.”

“Fliora,” I get out. “Can you give us a moment?”

She nods, getting to her feet and passing me a water skin. When she wanders toward the stable, I feel Eamonn keeping one eye on her.

“You tried to save me,” I murmur.

He lowers his head. “I failed. I failed you, and I failed Calpharos. I was too late.”

“I’m…reincarnated.”

“Yes. Anarthys was unable to take that gift back. I have no doubt she would have stolen it from you if it was possible.”

“Have I…had other lives?”

“I do not know. It is likely.”

“And you were cursed too. By your siblings?”

“Yes. Calpharos went to a seer who told him that one of Anarthys’s acolytes would be his soulmate. Meanwhile, Anarthys received a vision of her own—one that made her desperate to learn what it was that Calpharos’s seer had seen. Anarthys knew the seer’s vision would make Calpharos break from her for eternity.”

“And Calpharos learned what she had done.”

“Yes. That was the day he insisted on going directly to her temple—the first time he saw you.”

“And then Anarthys learned who I was.”

“Yes. She tortured the seer until she told the goddess of Calpharos’s prophecy. The seer gave Anarthys enough information to lead her to believe you were his soulmate. And then one of the other acolytes told the goddess you had been seen with Calpharos, confirming her suspicions.”

Yalanda.

“Anarthys had been plotting, working with our siblings. If my brother didn’t choose her, she would have her revenge,” Eamonn says. “Our other siblings learned I had tried to save you. They knew my loyalty would always be to Calpharos, so they bound my powers, took my true form from me, and banished me to this world. It took centuries for me to find my twin. And that’s when I learned they had also found a way to prevent me from telling him who he was.”

“I just…I don’t understand. I’ve heard about how powerful the dark god is so many times. How were they able to…”

“You.” There’s no blame in Eamonn’s voice, but I flinch anyway. When he looks up at me, I don’t see his canine form at all. I see the man who attempted to save my life. His eyes may be different, but they still hold that same kindness.

“Me?”

“Calpharos used so much of his power attempting to kill Anarthys to avenge your death, he was weakened. You were the one chink in his armor. The one weakness he had never before shown. You were his undoing.”

“And his enemies struck at the first sign of that weakness. No wonder he wants his revenge.”

But there’s one thing I don’t understand. The Calpharos from my memories—and I’m still attempting to accept those memories—was kinder. Gentler. Oh, he’d terrified the sheltered, innocent woman I’d been. But he’d intrigued her too.

The glimpses I’ve seen of Calpharos so far have been of a man so entirely other that he sends a chill down my spine. The Calpharos I saw in the swamp when he took the grimoire…there was nothing redeeming about him. Nothing soft. He radiated a predatory cruelty, an all-encompassing rage that warned that any who attempted to stop him would die.

“What are you thinking?” Eamonn asks.

Idly, I stroke his head, scratching him behind the ear, and his eyes turn heavy lidded.

I fill him in, and he sighs. “You have to understand. His last memories of his true self were directly after you were taken from him. Losing you before he ever truly knew you…watching you die in front of him… he will never be the man he was again.”

“And he wants revenge.”

“Yes. Our siblings didn’t have enough power to kill him—or they would have removed him as a threat for good. Instead, they merely bought themselves time. With every grimoire, he will remember more, will be able to access more of his power. And when he is unleashed…”

I shake my head. “Do you understand why I need to stop him?”

“I understand that this world has been terrible to you.” His voice turns hard. “You have suffered great losses. And still, you would protect it.”

“You’ve walked in this world for centuries. Can you truly tell me the innocents here deserve to die?”

A long pause. “No. Our only hope is that Calpharos remembers who you are to him.”

If I told him, would he believe me? What would I say? Hello Calpharos, it turns out I’m your…soulmate. And I need you to give up your revenge for me.

I know exactly how hot the flames of vengeance burn. They flicker within me even now. For Vicana. For her witch. And for that bitch goddess who stabbed me in the heart.

Because I am not the innocent, sheltered acolyte who knelt at Anarthys’s feet and allowed herself to be killed. Not in this life.

All the suffering and pain has hardened me. It shaped me into a survivor.

What if I tell Calysian, and he goes for the grimoire anyway? Telling him he lost his soulmate could make him even more eager to get to his grimoire and take back his power. He’d be one step closer to getting his revenge—a revenge that could ruin this world.

“Why didn’t you tell me who I am earlier? Why did you lie for so long?”

Eamonn sighs. “I didn’t lie. I just chose the right time to tell you. What would you have done if you’d learned this information earlier, before you truly began to feel something for him?”

I would have run.

Slowly, I get to my feet. “Fliora?”

“I’ll take care of her.”

My head is spinning, my knees weak. “What am I supposed to do tomorrow when he goes after the grimoire?”

“You’re the other half of Calysian’s soul. That means you can access his power too. Forget trying to get to the grimoire before him. You need to go with him. When he takes the second grimoire, he’ll be distracted. You can take his link to the third grimoire, ensuring he won’t be able to locate it.”

I grit my teeth. Eamonn isn’t giving me any advice to help me take and hide the second grimoire. He’s willing to let Calysian become even more powerful.

Fine. I have my own plans in place.

“And tonight? Do I tell him who he is to me?”

Eamonn’s eyes glitter with sympathy. “Only you can make that decision.”