No, this is wrong.
We have to get out of here. Now.
I inhale deeply, forcing the pain aside, pushing through the fog clouding my thoughts. If Ashen will not get us out of here. If the void has ensnared him in its grasp, then there is only one other who can wield that power.
Me.
I close my eyes, steadying myself against the inevitable.
“I will open a portal.”
The Golden Son reaches around, pinching my chin between his fingers and forcing me to face him. I snarl, shoving him away, but he doesn’t miss a beat, grabs me again, his grip more forceful this time. Like he wants me to feel it. Like he’s daring me to fight him for control.
“You know what will happen,” he growls. “What it costs.”
I shake my head, defiant. “And what choice do we have? Linger here until the dark takes us? Wait for something worse to crawl out and devour us? If we’re lucky?”
“No.” His voice hardens. He shakes his head once, with finality. “I won’t allow it.”
My jaw tightens. “Luckily, I am not asking for your permission.”
Before he can stop me, before he can rip the words from my lips, I speak them.
“Véthari lios an’thera.”
The void devours them.
So I say them again. Louder. Then again, until my voice is all there is.
“Véthari lios an’thera. Véthari lios an’thera. Véthari lios an’thera.”
But there is nothing but darkness.
Then I understand. Blood.
It must always be blood.
But how?
I have no weapons. And with Ashen under the sway of the void, I’m not eager to force his mouth open and shove an arm inside.Panic coils in my chest as I whirl, eyes scanning the Golden Son. His bare torso is a map of bruises and shallow cuts, smeared with dried blood, but no blade. Nothing sharp. Nothing useful.
I could claw at myself. Bite down hard and pray a drop is enough.
There’s no time to hesitate. No time to hope for a cleaner way.
I seize my arm, teeth bared, ready to tear into my own flesh. But before I can, a curl of smoke unfurls across my lap.
I freeze. Watching, breathless, as the darkness writhes like smoke, then stills. Solidifies. The shadow evaporates, leaving behind a dagger, its blade glimmering like starlight, its leather-wrapped hilt fitted to my hand, its pommel a clear, flawless jewel.
I stare.
The only one more stunned than me is the Golden Son.
“That’s Fae magic,” he breathes. “But how…”
His voice fades as his gaze drops to my belly just before it jolts, a massive ripple rolling beneath my skin like the swell of a restless sea.
He shrieks, a high-pitched sound even louder than the one he scolded me for, his face contorting into something between horror and revulsion.
