22 LORIAN
Lifting my head, I swept my gaze around the hybrids. All of them had fallen to their knees, bowing to Prisca. No one moved.
My eyes found hers.
She stood in the middle of the arena. Her face was bruised, one eye swollen. Her skin was concerningly pale, the blood splattered across it serving as the singular splash of color. Her lip gave the tiniest tremble, and for the barest moment, she looked so fucking lonely, I wanted to scoop her into my arms and carry her out of here.
Instead, I steeled my spine and slowly bowed my head again.
“Your Majesty,” I repeated.
And I watched as she rebuilt herself once more. Her chin jutted out, her head lifted, and her shoulders squared.
“Rise,” she ordered.
Everyone stood.
Prisca was silent for a few moments. But she had everyone’s attention.
“There are better ways to live than wrestling with constant terror. Than being lied to and stolen from, imprisoned and murdered. And there are worse ways to die than fighting for freedom, next to the people we love. Our people deserve a different life. A better life. Each and every one of you deserves to live in freedom. You deserve to watch your children learn how to use their magic as they grow. You deserve to live in peace.”
Pride roared through me until I almost shook with it. This woman. She was everything I could ever want. She was so much more than I deserved.
And I’d keep her safe until the day I died.
Cheers broke out. I noted those who didn’t cheer. And I knew Galon and Marth were doing the same.
I walked to her, and she held out a hand. It trembled slightly as I engulfed it in my own.
“You left Zathrian alive.”
She swallowed. “We will see if the healers can keep him that way.” Her gaze searched my face, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her brows. “It was a mistake. I know it. But I couldn’t seem to kill him. After everything he has done…I was too weak.”
“No. You were merciful. They are very different things.”
She shook her head, and I tightened my hold on her hand. “If he were to pick up a sword and lunge at my unprotected back right now, what would you do?”
That line between her brows deepened. “I’d watch you cut him down,” she said, as if I had suddenly become very stupid and she was worried about my mind.
“I’m wounded.”
Panic flared in her eyes, and I grasped her hand tighter. “In this situation,” I clarified. “I’m wounded and slow and won’t see him coming. What would you do?”
“I’d kill him.”
I nodded, lifting my other hand to run my thumb along her brow until her frown disappeared. “That is the difference between weakness and mercy, wildcat. Even after everything you have seen, and everything that has been done to you, your heart is still so big. You’re still kind. You still see the good in people, no matter how little of it there is.”
A hint of color crept into her cheeks. She opened her mouth, and then her eyes widened once more as her gaze landed on my neck. I knew what she could see. Soltor had struck particularly deep along the side of my throat. “You’re still bleeding, Lorian. You need a healer.”
She glanced around, just as Galon and Marth approached.
Galon wrapped his arm around Prisca. He wasn’t someone who hugged others often, but he squeezed her close. “Proud of you,” he murmured into her ear.
Marth slapped her on the back, cleared his throat several times, wiped at one eye, and ducked his head.
I surveyed the soldiers standing in groups around us. Many of them stared, while others spoke in low voices. We had this army, but after Zathrian’s poison, the hardest part would be keeping it.
Orivan strode toward us. When he glanced in Zathrian’s direction, his gaze lingering on the healers who fought to save his life, something that might have been sorrow slipped across his face.
Prisca might have Orivan’s loyalty now, but it had belonged to Zathrian first. I would be keeping a close eye on the hybrid general.
“I would like a tour,” Prisca said before Orivan said a word.
He glanced down at her tunic, still stained with her cousin’s blood. But he didn’t argue. “Of course.”
Next to me, Galon nodded approvingly. Prisca was young, female, and everyone knew she had been raised human, in one of Regner’s villages. She couldn’t afford to show a hint of weakness.
Already, the soldiers were dispersed back to their tasks, and as we left the arena, many of them immediately filed in to resume their training, the healers moving Zathrian away to work on him elsewhere.
The camp sprawled efficiently across a wide, flat expanse of land—the perfect spot for such a gathering, given how close we were to the Cursed City to our north and the Normathe Mountains in the southeast. The command tent was stationed a hundred footspans to the left of the arena, in the center of the camp, its canvas walls taut against steel frames. Around it, the tents for the high-ranked soldiers were meticulously aligned and equally spaced.
Farther out, the soldiers’ tents were arranged in neat rows, creating a uniformity that spoke of order and control. The pathways between each row were straight and clear.
Conreth would approve.
Orivan led us toward the periphery of the camp— past the blacksmith’s area, where the ring of hammer on anvil filled the air. Through the cook’s section, where smoke wafted from the fires, and alongside the medical tents, where healers bustled to and fro, likely attempting to save Zathrian’s life.
While Orivan droned on about the facilities, the schedule, and the training, I surveyed the armory and supply tents. They’d been strategically placed for easy access, and guards were stationed outside each of them. Nearby, well-fed horses were led to and from the temporary stables.
I glanced at Galon, who gave me an approving nod. If there were sixty thousand hybrid soldiers in this camp, I would feel confident that we would win this war. But at least the twenty thousand we did have appeared well-trained and disciplined.
Orivan led us to tents that had been set aside for Eadric and Zathrian. They were currently being hastily cleared of their personal items, new linens brought in. Prisca kept her gaze on Orivan.
“The decision to work with Regner has never been popular among the hybrid regiments,” he said. “While your cousin may have had every intention of turning on Regner at the end, he obviously couldn’t inform our people of his planned duplicity. And many of them are old enough to remember that day when his parents ripped down our wards. There will, of course, be grumbling from those who support him as king.” He hesitated. “A display of your power could be exceptionally helpful there.”
Prisca’s hands curled at her sides, but she nodded. The time would come when she would have to tell Orivan about the loss of her power. But both of us had agreed that our grasp on this army would be too unstable to risk such a conversation until we had to.
“For now, I need a healer for my husband,” she said, glancing at my neck. A flash of satisfaction arrowed into my chest at the term.
Orivan nodded. “Done.”
After a moment, he hesitated, opening his mouth, but I was also done.
Done watching the fine trembling beginning in Prisca’s hands. Done watching the way her gaze darted as if it couldn’t quite decide what to land on.
She had played her part perfectly. But she was in shock.
I would step aside in whatever ways Prisca needed as she ruled our people. But when it came to her health, I would make no such concessions.
“Her Majesty needs some time to recover. She will meet with you later.”
Taking Prisca’s hand, I led her into the tent.
“It’s a fake?” Amalra demanded.
Demos went completely, utterly silent. When he held out his hand, Gwynara placed the amulet into it.
“How close of a match is it?” he finally asked.
“It’s perfect. If I couldn’t feel that it has no magic, I would have thought it was the real thing. If Brinlor were fae, he would’ve been able to tell.” She sent him an apologetic look. Brinlor shook his head, staring into the water as if still hoping Nyrik would surface. Heat seared the backs of my eyes.
“Is it possible it is one of the amulets, but it has been already drained?”
“No,” Gwynara said. “If Regner knew how to completely drain a fae amulet, there would be no war, because all of us would already be dead.”
Some of the color disappeared from Demos’s cheeks. His hand curled into a fist at his side, and he carefully handed the amulet back to Gwynara. I had a feeling he was restraining himself from throwing it back into the water.
“I know of only one person with the ability to replicate something this well,” he said. “And he is a hybrid who has helped us many times before. If Regner has gotten to him, anyone around him is in deadly peril.”
My gaze met his. He was thinking about Finley. I didn’t want to believe it. And I knew it would break Prisca’s heart.
“We need to get out of here,” Brinlor said. “The others will be ready to strike.”
“Are we certain the amulet isn’t hidden somewhere else in here?” I asked. “If we bring down the mine…”
Sound suddenly rattled from the trowth stone in someone’s pack. Gwynara leaped at it.
“I don’t know where the rest of you are,” Yan’s voice echoed through the cave. “But I can only hope you’re still alive. Our spies sent me a pigeon. One of Regner’s carriages was spotted close by, surrounded by guards. Something tells me the amulet is in that carriage.”
“They took it out through a hidden tunnel,” I said. “We thought we were creating a distraction. But we were our own distraction.” My breathing had turned shallow, and I forced myself to unfist my hands.
“Where are they?” Demos demanded, holding up a hand as we waited for the reply.
“They’re moving southeast. Toward Mistrun.”
“We’ll never cut them off,” Gwynara said, her face bloodless. “This was all for nothing…”
“We will cut them off,” Demos declared. His words, the strength in his voice, the steady look in his eyes… they had an instant effect. Gwynara’s lips firmed, and she nodded, reaching for her pack. Brinlor straightened his shoulders, tearing his wandering gaze from the water. The others seemed to unfurl from where they’d been frozen in pained disbelief.
Gathering our packs, we moved as fast as we could. No one was worried about hiding our tracks or staying quiet on our way back to the entrance. Every second we delayed was also another second that the real amulet was traveling closer to Regner.
How had it come down to this?
We might have Tor to help with Regner’s wards, but without the amulet, we had no hope of killing Regner himself. Somehow, the fate of the four kingdoms depended on whether we could make up the lost distance and steal the amulet from the carriage without dying in the process.
And so, we ran.
I was lucky that I was shorter than most of the others, although even I nearly slammed my head into a particularly low part of the rock above us.
Somewhere in front of me, someone was using the trowth stone to communicate with Yan.
The stench from the monsters assaulted my nose as we were suddenly just footspans from where they were being kept. My eyes watered, but I kept moving, until finally, finally, we stumbled out of the mine.
Beautiful, life-giving, fresh air caressed my face, and I took a single moment to suck in a steadying breath.
But the others were still running until they’d scrambled up the bank and were looking down at the mine below them. I raced after them, and Demos leaned down, offering his hand as I slid a few steps. I slapped my hand into his, allowing him to pull me up next to him.
Gods, my lungs ached.
“Now you’ll see why Yan’s orders were to conserve his power,” Demos said, nodding toward the mine. He didn’t even sound out of breath.
Placing my hands on my thighs and leaning over slightly to catch my breath, I watched.
At first, nothing happened. But then, slowly, my skin prickled. Several birds suddenly took off from the trees behind us with a wild flap of wings.
It started as a low rumble, quickly escalating as the ground began to tremble beneath us. The trembling turned to a sway, which became the awful sensation of the world moving beneath my feet. As one, we all backed away from the bank.
Ancient rocks groaned beneath the strain.
I glanced around, but everyone was focused on the mine.
The trembling turned to a sharp motion back and forth. I reached for Demos’s hand instinctively, and he gripped mine tightly. A deafening crack echoed, followed by several more. Rock crumbled, the mine collapsing into itself, until all I could see was a cloud of dust.
The moment the ground ceased shaking, Demos was pulling me after him.
Our group fell into place around us, sprinting into the forest.
“How did you know that would work?” I panted.
“The way the queen described the mine. It sounded as if too much of the rock had been hollowed out—and something told me Regner wasn’t too concerned with support structures. Yan is able to make the earth move— not for long, and he will be drained for days now—but it seemed the easiest way to kill what needed to be killed.”
So many creatures that had been living and breathing just moments ago were now gone. But so were the claws that would have torn into us. The wings that would have carried us high before dropping us to our deaths.
Someone was yelling something, and Demos held up a hand.
“Iron guards!” Yan was screaming through the trowth stone. “They had a group of them waiting nearby. They’re coming after you.”
My entire body was instantly coated in a greasy sweat. But Demos just held out his hand. “Map.”
Someone shoved it into his hands. He lifted it, narrowing in on our area and waving us away when we crowded too close, blocking his light. His finger jabbed into the parchment and then trailed down.
“We’ll travel by river,” he said. “It’s fast, it’s close by, and it’ll get us to the only road they can take south with a carriage. The iron guards won’t expect it. They’ll stick to the forest trails, and if the gods are smiling on us today, they’ll miss us entirely.”
My heart stuttered. “Prisca nearly died in that river.”
“It was much colder months ago when she went into the water,” Demos pointed out. “I know this area, and the river isn’t as fast here. As long as we stay together, we’ll be fine.”
It was dangerous, but it was our only hope. And I trusted Demos to make the most strategic decision.
Brinlor heaved a sigh. “Perfect,” he said. “I was hoping to spend some more time in cold water.”
Demos was already handing back the map. “Let’s go.”
We ran until I could hear the water even over the heavy pants of our breaths, our footsteps thumping along the forest path. My stomach churned, but within seconds, we were heading downhill. I stumbled, regained my footing, and we burst through the tree line and onto the riverbank.
Here, the Dytur River flowed quickly, but it didn’t hold the same mortal peril as the section near our village. There, the water had been white in places, filled with rocks, and flowing so fast, I was still sometimes shocked that Prisca had survived. Here, the river was moving quickly, steadily, but it wasn’t wild. We were farther from the mountains here, and I couldn’t remember the last time it had rained.
Demos didn’t hesitate. Within a moment, he’d grabbed my wrist and was wading in, pulling me with him into the water.
My teeth chattered. The river wasn’t as cold as I’d imagined—compared to the lake within the mine, it was almost tepid—but my body was struggling to handle the constant rush of adrenaline.
With a single glance at the others, Demos nodded, kicking out and pulling me farther into the water.
Not for the first time, I was forced to admire his strategy. I knew some of it was his magic, but much of it was also his mind.
The river swept us along—pushing each of us into the occasional rock, but that was to be expected. Demos and Brinlor were watching each bend carefully, likely comparing it to their mental images of the map.
The guards were traveling down the main road toward the south. Which meant, depending how fast we traveled, there was a chance we could be lying in wait.
If we missed them…
If we missed them, our only shot was Yan. Perhaps he could create some kind of distraction or find a way to slow the carriage down. My heart tripped at the thought. The soldiers guarding the amulet would be some of Regner’s best.
Anyone who slowed them down would die.
The river was cool, then cold, then frigid. I shivered, focusing on staying close to the others. I touched the bottom a few times, using my legs to push off from the riverbed. No one spoke, all of us grimly silent.
Regner had outwitted us yet again. I was glad Nyrik hadn’t known the amulet was a fake before that creature had pulled him down into the depths of that lake. At least he’d died believing he was a hero. That he’d done something incredible for the war. That his actions had mattered.
A thick, dark cloud seemed to invade my head, turning it foggy. And it suddenly felt as if a heavy weight had been dropped on my chest. Demos moved his body closer. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. But one of his arms came around me, and we floated together, both of us lost in thought.
As we rounded the next corner, Demos jerked his head, and then he was steering me toward the riverbank. Obviously, he’d seen some landmark he’d recognized. All I knew was I was more than ready to get out of the water.
It felt as if we took half the river with us as we crawled out, water streaming off our clothes. It was even colder out of the water, but Demos grabbed my hand and immediately broke into a run.
“You don’t have to drag me with you,” I muttered. “I’m not going to get lost.”
“If I don’t keep you close enough to touch, you might risk your life again.”
Who needed dry clothes? It turned out, fury could keep you just as warm. I opened my mouth to snarl a reply, but someone let out a bird call, and Demos dropped into a crouch, yanking me down with him.
I glanced around me. Everyone else had hit the ground at the same time.
“The carriage is approaching,” someone murmured behind us. “We have to get to the road now.”
At that, we sprinted, all of us tripping and stumbling and hissing frustrated curses. There would be no time to strategize. No time to carefully weigh up potential plans. The thought of what that could mean made me nauseous with terror.
The moment we made it to the road, Demos crouched behind a thick, leafy bush. Several others melted away, while still more crossed the road.
Demos finally released my hand, pulling his sword from his sheath. “Stay here,” he said.
When I didn’t immediately reply, he turned to face me, his eyes wild. “Please.”
Frustration warred with logic. Logic won, and I nodded. I would use my crossbow and do what I could from here.
The carriage was moving toward us down the road, pulled by four horses, with ten guards surrounding it, also on horseback.
Impossible. It was ludicrous to think we could do this in our current condition.
Crack!
One of the fae had felled a tree in front of the carriage. Rough male curses sounded, and a horse reared, diverting the guards’ attention.
Our people didn’t hesitate.
They didn’t let fear swamp them, didn’t let the unlikelihood of their survival make them question this attack.
Not for one second.
They attacked like a storm, surrounding the carriage on all sides, working together as if they’d practiced this attack a thousand times before.
A guard with a power similar to Galon’s sent a flood of water into Gwynara’s face until she dropped to her
The others covered Demos as he moved closer, clearly targeting the carriage. I reached over my shoulder for my crossbow, cursing as I nocked an arrow. The wood was swollen and warped, while the bowstring had sucked in enough river water that it wasn’t stretching the way it should.
Fuck.
I aimed anyway, unsurprised when my shot went wide. I’d prepared for this possibility, ensuring it wouldn’t hit any of our people. And thankfully, the guards were currently too busy to target me.
Taking a deep breath, I centered myself, focusing on the strange place inside me—the one that allowed me to make the kinds of shots that shouldn’t be possible. It was a feeling of complete peace. As if I were floating somewhere soundless, where nothing else existed.
The next guard swung at Demos, who dodged to the side, swinging his own sword. My arrow hit the guard in the throat, and he dropped. Warmth spread through my chest. My crossbow might be warped, but I could still make a difference.
Demos sliced a single glance my way, before ducking beneath a flash of light. I wasn’t sure what that power was, but it came close to hitting the carriage. My pulse raced, and I forced myself to slow my breathing once again.
Several guards cursed at the tall, bearded guard who’d clearly come too close to risking the stolen fae amulet with that strange light. I shot another guard while they were distracted. But my arrow drove into his shoulder instead of his throat. His sword arm, so he was at least incapacitated, but I cursed the diminished tension in my bowstring.
While the guards were bloated with Regner’s stolen power, they were still only human. And I’d underestimated the fae and the hybrids. Underestimated the icy fury that drove them now, after they’d watched Nyrik die.
I scanned the road. Two of the guards were dead. Eight of them were left, and they fought with vicious determination, teeth bared, swords swinging.
Gwynara shot fire toward one of the guards, and Amalra followed it with a wide swing of her sword.
He ducked neatly out of reach, the sword whistling past his head.
I aimed. Fired. Missed.
Fuck.
With a smug smile, the guard lashed out, burying his sword in Amalra’s chest. No. Gods, no.
Elysanth’s scream carried over the battle. My hands shook, and I lowered my crossbow long enough to take several long, deep breaths.
Steady arms. Steady hands. Or I would be useless here.
The guard kicked Amalra off the end of his sword, spinning to meet Gwynara. But Elysanth was already there.
She ducked low, driving her sword up into his groin. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.
Where was Demos… Where was he—
There.
He’d leapt toward the roof of the carriage. But his body slammed into an invisible barrier, which shoved him backward with brutal force. Twisting in midair, he kicked out, clipping one of the guards in the face. Brinlor slipped up behind the same guard and slammed his dagger into the spot where the bottom of his head met his neck.
The ward around the carriage was one that actively repelled any who attempted to get near it. And I’d seen it before. Regner’s assessors often traveled with shield guards who prevented anyone from even getting close to them.
The only way to break it would be to kill the guard who was using his magic to keep it in place.
My eyes darted. Six guards left. But which one of them held the ward?
Horrison and Firion had ducked behind one side of the carriage and were using it to shield themselves from an unrelenting attack from a guard who was sending some kind of destructive power toward them. Firion leaned around one of the wheels, and the guard’s shoulders stiffened. Firion’s eyes widened, and he slipped back behind the carriage, just in time for the guard’s power to slam into a tree off the road behind him, blowing it to pieces.
He wasn’t the shielder.
Nocking another arrow, I waited, poised. A huge, broad guard with a thick neck was fighting Demos with his sword. I hesitated, my crossbow raised. But as much as I wanted to shoot him, that guard wasn’t the shielder either.
Shielders required concentration. Focus. Even if he’d been given stolen magic, it was unlikely that guard would be able to fight someone like Demos while keeping that shield in place.
Elysanth raised her sword, guarding her injured sister. One of the guards lunged toward Elysanth, a wide grin on his face. My heart leaped into my chest.
Brinlor was there to meet him, and their swords clashed.
Relief coursed through me. I continued scanning. And my gaze caught on the guard toward the back of the carriage.
Smaller than the other guards, he wielded a sword that was awkwardly long for him, as if he was attempting to overcompensate. As I watched, he took several steps toward Horrison, who’d lost his sword and was fighting hand to hand with a guard who still had his.
He was going to attack Horrison from behind. I bared my teeth.
But he scuttled backward, closer to the carriage once more.
“I’ve got you.” I’d just found their shielder. And he didn’t exactly seem to be overflowing with courage.
The rough plan leaped into my mind, fully formed. I didn’t have time to second-guess myself.
Demos—
I caught sight of him just as he buried his sword in the larger guard’s gut.
“Demos!” I screamed.
He turned, wide-eyed. And his eyes sparked when he saw I wasn’t hurt or bleeding, but was instead distracting him.
My crossbow was in my hands, my bow poised, so I couldn’t gesture properly. I had to hope he would get it.
And so I exuberantly jerked my head toward the guard with the too-long sword. The guard who’d turned toward me as I’d called Demos’s name.
I gave him a dark smile that I hoped was dripping with ill intent. He swallowed, moving back toward the carriage. But he couldn’t go any farther without running into Firion and Brinlor, who had just killed another guard.
Movement.
Demos, prowling toward the amulet. I couldn’t risk looking at him.
And so, I widened my smile, letting my arrow fly toward the guard.
He did what I’d anticipated he would do. What almost anyone would do, even if they wouldn’t admit it to themselves.
My arrow came within inches of his face and was repelled so violently, it almost hit Gwynara as she fought hand to hand, her own power clearly drained.
The guard had ripped his ward from the carriage and wrapped it around himself.
My chest tightened until I could almost taste each heartbeat.
But Demos was already launching himself through the door he’d opened. I nocked another arrow, aiming at the guard, who gave me a smug grin as it hit his shield once more.
Demos wasn’t out yet.
I needed to keep distracting him.
My next arrow went wide, and the guard’s grin grew.
Good. Just keep looking at me, you idiot.
Keep looking at me and not at Demos, who was jumping free, a box in his arms. Pure, unfiltered joy swept through me at the sight.
Demos disappeared, and I continued to fire on the guard, distracting him from the fact that Demos now had the amulet.
But Firion kicked the guard he was fighting into one of the carriage wheels. And the guard slammed into the wood. He let out a curse, calling out someone’s name, and the shielder shifted the ward from himself to what he was supposed to be guarding.
But it was too late.
Demos was already rolling free from beneath the carriage. And when he threw the precious artifact, Gwynara’s hand was already in the air, waiting to catch it.
The moment she slipped the amulet over her head, Regner’s remaining guards went up in flames.
Rythos’s brother ordered us to be chained in his dungeon. I sneered at him, my palms heating, even as my heart tripped in my chest. I could take out a few of the guards. Perhaps even Brevan himself, depending on his power. But they would kill us directly after.
Still, perhaps that was a better end than one that involved fading away in his dungeon until war found this island and Regner’s soldiers arrived to kill whoever was left.
“Madinia,” Rythos said.
I looked at him. The expression on his face urged me to cooperate. “Use your power,” I said.
“He’s out.” Brevan’s expression was terrible as he watched the flames burn in my hands. “If not yet, then he will be soon. I suggest you think very, very carefully.”
My flames burned higher. “Perhaps you are the one who should think carefully.”
One of the guards took a step forward, his eyes intent. Rythos caught my wrist. “Please, Madinia.”
Fury burned through me, hotter than the flames in my hands. “You’re seriously going to let him lock us away?”
Rythos’s jaw tightened. “I’m going to trust that my brother will eventually begin to think logically.”
The brother in question gave him a cool smile.
I gave him my most poisonous smile in return. “Something tells me he wasn’t born with that ability.”
Brevan’s smile disappeared.
“Walk,” he said. “Or my guards will make you.”
I gave Rythos one more look. He just stared me down.
I didn’t trust easily. And ignoring every single instinct roaring at me to flee this island…
It could be the biggest mistake of my life.
But if Rythos was convincing us to cooperate with his brother, he must have some kind of plan. So, I walked.
I’d expected a cell like the ones I’d heard about beneath Regner’s castle. And I was relatively sure such a dungeon could be found on this island. But Rythos’s station clearly entitled him to a slightly more tolerable cell. And I was pushed inside the cell with him.
Approximately twenty footspans wide and long, it contained two beds, a couple of wooden chairs and a table near the bars of the cell, and a room divider that could be dragged open, separating the beds for some semblance of privacy—at least from each other. A tiny bathing room, also divided near the back of the room. One of Brevan’s guards leered at me in a way that warned me I wouldn’t be receiving much of that privacy.
“Will you at least listen to what we have to say?” Rythos demanded as the cell clanked shut behind us.
Brevan studied Rythos. And there was something disturbing in his gaze. This was the kind of fae I’d been warned about, even as a child. Remote, emotionless, cruel. His eyes were chillingly blank.
“No,” he said. “I don’t believe I will.”
Rythos’s mouth fell open, and understanding dawned in his eyes. I wanted to punch him in the throat. He’d believed his brother would listen if only he played along and allowed him to lock us down here.
“You’re going to die,” I said.
Brevan’s gaze flicked to me. “I suggest you refrain from threatening me.”
“Oh, I’m not going to do it.” Although I was fantasizing about doing exactly that. The bars on this cage had tamped down my magic until I could barely feel a single ember. “Your coward father has brought this upon himself, but all of you will pay for it.”
Brevan glanced at Rythos once more.
“Brother,” Rythos said hoarsely. “Please.”
Brevan turned and walked away.