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The Prince bristles beside me. “Watch your tone, Ferris.”
Ferris. My frown deepens.Why do you sound familiar?
“Apologies.” Ferris folds his hands in his lap.
The Prince leans forward onto his knees. “Look at me, and do not look away.”
Ferris nods and mirrors The Prince’s stance.
For a moment, I think they may be having a Gods-damned staring contest, but then The Prince unrolls his left hand out of a fist and twists his fingers around in a crescent shape.
Ferris’ eyes fall shut. His breaths slow.
Curious, I lean forward.
The Prince glances at me. “I’m going in.”
“Can he hear us?” I wonder.
He shakes his head. “No. I’ve put him in a trance. Right now, his mind is sorting through every thread of his Fate, seeking the ones he desires to read the most. It will be my job to collect each one and then play them for him.”
“You can do that?” I ask. I’ve heard of people reading threads. It’s rare, but it happens.This is more than that, though. I clutch the knife against my thigh.
The Prince manages a solemn nod, but a sweat breaks across his forehead. He grits his teeth, his eyes slicing with fury behind his mask. “He’s found the threads.”
I balk. “You’re in his head still.”
The Prince closes his eyes. “Zora, you don’t have much time.”
I tense, realizing he’s talking about the kill. I stand and wield the knife forward, crossing over to Ferris in one long stride. I lick my lips, my instincts driving the blade to his neck. Delight ripples over me as I press it against the pulse ticking along his neck.
“Zora, quit playing with your kill.”
I glance back at The Prince with a scowl, but my stomach knots at the pain breaking him apart.
His face dribbles sweat, his mouth twisted in a grimace and his eyes squeezed shut. His body shakes more violently with each passing second, his breaths shallow.
I turn back to Ferris, and disgust squirms through my heart as the man wets his lips like a hungry pig. Whatever he’s seeing, helikes, while it destroys The Prince. My nostrils flare, my gaze tightening on his neck. Then I slice. No hesitation. No remorse.
“Wait there’s something –” The Prince chokes.
My eyes widen as I spin around and find him clutching his neck. “What’s happening?”
Ferris’ blood splatters across my back as I rush to The Prince’s aid.
The Prince doubles over and releases a low moan of grief. He pants and sucks in several large inhales before he rights himself and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “He’s…He’s dead,” he breathes.
I frown. “No shit.” Then, I look at Ferris’s collapsed body, his neck gaping open and blood pooling onto the sofa, sinking into the fabric. My ring finger ticks with thrill. I press my lips together and focus on The Prince. “Could you feel that?”
The Prince rubs his neck gently. “It’s fine. I knew it was coming.”
Something about the way he says that unsettles me. Like there’s been a million times when hedidn’tsee it coming. Like every reading leaves him in pain.
He notices my apprehension and trails a finger over my cheek, wiping away blood. “I’m okay.”
“Can youfeelthreads?” I ask.
The Prince swallows. “Not exactly.”
