I glance at the statue and then back up at him.
"No, I feel kidnapped," I say, trying my best to sound brave. "Who are you?"
He steps closer to the railing. "The rightful heir to your throne of lies and deceit. The truth you've never been told. The end to your family's false reign."
"You sound insane."
"No," he says. "I'm free. And now, so are they."
As he speaks, figures emerge from the shadows.
One by one, all wearing the same red robe and hood.
There must be a dozen or more of them, all circling me and the altar, stepping into the candlelight like they've been waiting in silence for hours.
All of their hoods point in my direction.
"My family," the man says. "The chosen children of the Morrígan."
"You're the Phantom King," I say.
"I've been called that," the man above me says. "Now, please take your seat at the altar."
I back up a step. "You want to worship a war goddess? Be my guest. But I'm not part of this."
He shakes his head slowly. "You are this, Keira. You've always been part of it. The Morrígan marked your bloodline for your bad deeds, and tonight, she'll receive what she's owed."
I laugh, but I'm freaking out and panicking at the same time.
Damn it, where is Octavian?
"Yeah, I think I'll pass. Thanks, though."
"The ceremony is about to begin," he continues, ignoring me. "The Morrígan demands a blood sacrifice and you are her calling."
Ice floods my veins and I refuse to move.
"Bring her to the altar."
The robed figures surrounding me start to move.
All at once.
I bolt and sprint toward the nearest gap in the circle, my shoes still clutched in one hand.
But they're faster.
Hands grab my arm, my waist, yanking me backward.
I scream, twisting, swinging my heel like a weapon. The sharp edge catches someone in the face, and they grunt, stumbling back.
But there are too many.
Another set of hands locks around my other arm. Someone grabs my hair, wrenching my head back.
"Get the fuck off me!"
I kick, thrashing, but they're strong. Too strong.
