The hall erupted, voices clashing in a frenzy for blood.Mathias raised his hand, a single, precise gesture that sliced the uproar in half. “The candidate has spoken.”
One by one, the others presented their prizes. Razira inducted hers into the ranks of her Devotion.
The next competitor, Vanya Temelain, a dark-skinned vampiress with braids bound tight against her skull, dragged her prisoner into the circle.
“The Flask accepts,” Mathias announced.
She didn’t pause. “Send him to the fighting pits.”
Guards rushed in to drag him away. The galleries exploded into bloodthirsty cheers, silver and gold clattering as spectators settled their bets.
Emmeline, with a cold, satisfied nod, sent her nemesis to the mines.
Lysandra Lovett, the competitor preceding Felicity, stepped forward and presented a scrawny, ragged male vampire.
The Flask answered before Mathias could speak.
Its light surged from pale to a searing white, flooding the platform. Lysandra stiffened, a choked gasp catching in her throat. Her body arched once, then began to unravel.
Thin strands of red matter peeled away from her skin, lifting like smoke caught in a wind. Her form thinned, hollowed, and folded inward as if her very structure had been pulled loose thread by thread.
Within seconds, she collapsed into a soft drift of ash that scattered across the marble.
Her captive didn’t even have time to scream. A sharp hiss cut the air as a coil of red vapor tore free from his chest, drawn straight into the Flask in a single hungry pull.
The glass dimmed again, and the crowd jumped to their feet in cheer, followed by the exchange of coins.
“He was unacceptable,” Mathias statedbelatedly.
Felicity stepped forward next, then hesitated. “I want to…kill him.”
The words had barely left her lips before the Flask reacted.
Its soft glow deepened, shifting to a violent, pulsing scarlet. The air thickened, humming with a pressure that made my teeth ache. Felicity’s captive jerked upright, spine bowing as if caught beneath the ribs by an invisible hook.
A screech tore from him. His skin tightened, veins rising like dark roots. A stream of red vapor peeled from his mouth, then his pores, drawn toward the container in thin, trembling strands. His body shrank around the pull, collapsing inward as the mist was devoured. When the last thread faded, what remained of him crumpled to the marble in a dry, empty heap.
The Flask dimmed, and the audience applauded. Felicity gaped at the corpse left behind, her skin bleached of color. “Last but not least, Ilyana Krudelbach,” Mathias announced.
A cold string of dread tightened in my spine. I had just watched a goddess feeding on her children, erasing lives in the space of a heartbeat. If my choice was wrong, that would be me. I drew a breath, praying I had chosen wisely.
But in the gap of silence that followed, I realized I didn’t know who I was praying to. Eona, to accept me? Or Aetherius, to absolve me?
The coven was waiting. I walked my nemesis into the light. “This is Noir,” I said, sweeping my hand toward him. He crouched at my side, grinning as if amused by the entire spectacle. “The retired assassin. I’m sure many of you recognize him.” I let my gaze sweep the gallery, watching faces tighten, jaws clench. “He probably killed someone you loved.”
Mathias inclined his head. “The Flask approves.”
A murmur rippled through the galleries.
My knees nearly buckled in relief. I drew a breath to announce, “He’ll join my Devotion.”
The chamber buzzed with disbelief. Noir’s chains gave a low rattle as he rose to his full height, his gaze sweeping the crowd with unsettling calm.
With a sudden, violent grace, he leapt, swinging his manacled arms beneath his feet in one fluid motion. The manacles snapped taut as his hands cleared his boots, bringing his arms to the front.
Wrists still bound, he lunged for me, his possessive grip sliding over my waist as he pulled me into a deep, bruising kiss. My head spun, surprise and desire warring within me. I kissed him back before the whole coven. I fisted the material of his shirt for some anchor to the madness of this moment.
He broke the kiss, his facial hair rasping against my mouth just so. One of his tethered hands dropped lower to give my butt a firm, territorial squeeze. Behind us, Zane hissed a warning.
