His body turned to ash, then sifted into my swords, vanishing from sight.
“I need to report this to the king.” The air pulsed with raw energy as I summoned my wings. “Take her out of here and bring her to the dungeons. He’ll want to see this.”
“Ronen, that’s the fourth Damned this week,” Alexei said, picking up Bonny.
“I know. Keep searching. Capture any soul or blood-banded who’s infected. Only kill them if you must.”
MJ and Alexei summoned their wings. “With pleasure,” they said in unison.
Chapter
Sixteen
LUCILLE
My legs, arms,abs, and feet all ached in ways I didn’t know were possible—and we still had seven weeks left. The general had perfected the art of avoiding me like I had some kind of disease. Then there was the lack of progress in finding an escape.
The days blurred together—a mix of punishing water abuse, freezing runs, weight training, and the king’s illusions. My exhaustion went beyond muscle pain. And that wasn’t even including the daily library visits, or my mom draining me to survive. I could’ve used Sam’s crystal to help, but I was saving it for when I absolutely needed it. So I suffered, the weight of the world and my decisions threatening to crush me. But I couldn’t stop.
On our one so-called day off, Oliver and I scrubbed the kitchen. Like our bruised ribs from that damned carrot-top weren’tpunishment enough.
Half asleep, I dragged my arm across the metal counter. Oliver wasn’t much better off. His head rested in his hand as he half-heartedly scrubbed the sink. After several minutes of mindlessly wiping the same spot, I sank to the floor beside Rune.
She gave me a nice wet lick and nudged me back into her large body, as if encouraging me to rest. Maybe she knew how exhausted I was.
Unable to help myself, I cozied into her warm shadow fur and fell asleep.
“Watch,”the familiar voice whispered.
I opened my eyes, expecting to see the female in the red and black cloak who’d helped me regain my memories in Elora—but stopped short.
Chains dug into my limbs, binding me to a bed designed for luxurious comfort. It was oxymoronic. Buttery silk sheets, crafted of the finest threads, draped over my legs, while my head rested against a plush velvet headboard. The softness of the fabrics mocked the rough chain links pinching my skin. The room around me—though difficult to take in with my neck held in place—seemed vast and decadent, from the faint glow of the crystal chandelier to the gossamer purple fabric swaying above my head near a tall, arched window. And yet, amidst all this luxury, panic shoved at my lungs, and a dark hole of nothingness threatened to consume my fear.
A door squeaked to my left. I twisted my head as much as I could and stiffened.
I’d only ever seen her once, but once was enough. I could never forget those scarlet-ringed eyes that twinkled with cunning and menace, or her unearthly darkness that drew me in. The Mother of Demons was both captivating and terrifying—a cataclysmic force of nature.
She glided toward me, dressed in a sensual gown as dark as her black mane. Her painted lips spread into a wide smile as she revealed an ebony feather in her hand and pressed it against my wrist.
I jerked as the tip stabbed me, but I couldn’t go anywhere.
“Don’t,” I rasped—then something shifted.
The dream changed.
It was no longer me on the bed, but Aspen. I stood by the bedroom door, watching Lilith brush the tips of her nails down his cheek. She sank onto the edge of the mattress, rattling his chains.
“Do you have anything you’d like to share?”
He clenched his jaw, staring at her with defiance.
“Oh, my darling prince, I thought you had learned.”
She pressed down on the feather. Every muscle in his body tensed, veins popping. Lilith’s lips twisted into a satisfied smile as she dragged the feather down, splitting his flesh. He screamed, wrenching at his restraints as blood dripped from his wrists.
Shaking off my shock, I sprinted to the bed and tackled Lilith to the ground—then the dream changed again.
“Keep watching.” The female’s voice echoed, everywhere and nowhere at once.
