My hands itched to stroke that soft fur, but a robed man I recognized approached. Not too long ago, I’d watched him protectively gather the unconscious Ember in his arms.
“Dom.” He snapped his fingers in front of my face, his brows drawing together. “I need your help.”
“I’m not Domino.” I frowned. I’d spoken with the librarian’s voice. Astonishment conquered new ground as I looked myself over. Gracious. IwasDomino. At least, I inhabited his body the way he inhabited mine.
“Ah. It’s you. The girl. Arden,” the newcomer said, his features hardening. “You agreed to the bonding.”
I would never be able to articulate the weirdness of knowing I was in the process of killing a feeder while simultaneously conversing with Ember’s boyfriend. “How is Ember?” I asked, and it was still Domino’s voice I heard.
“Awake, too weak to get out of bed, and trying not to worry about those under her care. Your mother and Mykal Ellison, to name two.” The barest twitch of his jaw muscle alerted me to trouble. “Actions have consequences.”
I splayed my fingers over my—Domino’s—belly. Oh, wow. I shouldn’t notice something so trivial at a time like this, but sweet goodness, the muscle definition on this guy. “Please don’t hurt them to hurt me.”
Twitch, twitch. “Now you insult me. As if I would ever purposely harm the innocent. I meant the women trust Ember. Now we must pair them with someone they’ve never met and start the process all over. Wasted time, wasted effort.”
I cringed. “My apologies. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes. Listen when Domino speaks.”
Ouch. “Okay, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you really know how to cut a girl to the—” A strong suction yanked me back into my own body.
Domino still inhabited me—I felt him. We stood rooted, panting, two swords clutched tight in our blood-soaked grip. Feeders were piled around us. His emotions intertwined with mine, until I could no longer tell them apart. Resolve: We’d done what was necessary. Relief: Cyrusand the trainees survived. Trepidation: What came next? There was a marked absence of satisfaction.
Blood splattered every inch of Cyrus, including his thunderous expression. “We live to fight another day.”
Yes, but how was this bonding thing supposed to work? Would Domino remain a presence inside me forever? Would I drift from my body to his, over and over?
“You were amazing, Arden,” Winslet praised between heaving breaths. The trainees were injured—the lord more than the lady—but they remained on their feet. “How did you do that?”
What had she seen? “Which part?” I asked, playing innocent as I wiped my blades on my pants and sheathed the weapons.
“Move so swiftly. Work those weapons so flawlessly.” Awe coated every word.
“I’ve given her special training,” Cyrus snapped, his patience hanging by a fraying thread. A true if misleading statement. “Let’s go before another horde arrives. Line up.”
We obeyed and once again started forward, soon running, our boots splashing in pools of scarlet.
The base came into view, stunning in its entirety. Glass hallways connected a series of differently shaped buildings. Some had a domed ceiling, others a flat roof, while a few featured a twisted steeple. Most sections sprawled, but one stretched toward the sky. If walls weren’t studded with crystal, they were dotted with windows. Fences formed a barricade around the perimeter.
Cyrus reached back and placed a pair of goggles in my hand. I trembled as I settled the thin metal around my brow and the lens over my eyes. Instant gloom, the precious light gone as if it had never been. I hated it.
I didn’t see Domino exit me, but I suddenly noticed his absence. There one moment, gone the next. It wasn’t relief that I felt but bereavement. With him, I’d tasted unfettered strength and unbreakableconnection. Now, without him, I struggled to remain upright as I followed Cyrus.
The high prince must have sensed my mounting fatigue. He slowed our stride, allowing me to limp along. But I didn’t topple, so, win. When we reached the first gate, a buzzer rang. Dead bolts unlatched, and an opening allowed us through. The pounding, racing footsteps of soldiers reached my ears.
“High Prince Mallow is dead.” Mr. Vyle’s voice came next. He’d ventured outdoors to collect us personally, which meant he’d known of our approach. “Ember Cruz is responsible.”
“I know. I saw it happen,” Cyrus informed him without revealing a hint of his emotions.
We entered the building, leaving behind the stench of rot in favor of sterile nothingness. From sweaty hot to quaking with cold.
I ripped off the goggles and blinked to clear my vision. Soldiers encircled us. Medics pushed through them to shove various pieces of equipment at us, taking our vitals. Cyrus didn’t protest, so I didn’t either.
“Lady Roosa, Baron Wildwood will escort you to Dr. Korey.” Mr. Vyle motioned to the soldier in question.
“Arden is staying with me.” Cyrus’s firm tone allowed no argument. “We won’t be visiting Dr. Korey.”
The executioner darted his gaze to me, pursed his lips, and gave a stiff nod.
