My entire world narrowed to the smirk lingering on his lips and the arrogance twisting his clenched jaw. One wrong move, and I’d end him. “I am your leader, and I’m issuing an order.”
He took a careful step toward me, and his eyes narrowed. “And I’d say that’s a gross abuse of your power. We may not fear death, but I won’t let you lead this clan into a war of your own making. You’re nothing but a fool.”
Pulse speeding, I sliced an elongated nail down my palm and called on the dormant power in my blood. The power bestowed to me by Talmage and the leaders before him. The power of Zane, first of our kind.
The air in the room disappeared, suffocating the remaining embers of the dying fire. Blood blades rose in unison around me, glistening in the light of the swaying chandelier. The sharp tips angled in Darrien’s direction, and shadows crept from my frame to slink along the floor and snare his ankles.
“Remember who you’re talking to.” Excess blood dripped from my palms to the stone below, a steady cadence that rocked the very foundation of our home.
“You’ve gone mad.” His wild gaze tracked the blades. “You’re asking us to risk our lives for some mindless fling.”
My hand curled into a tight fist. She wasn’t a fling. She was myonly. Something Darrien couldn’t comprehend.
And yet, I couldn’t force him or anyone else to fight for something, someone, they didn’t know or believe in. Not without using my blood, and something about that action felt…wrong. My gaze drifted to a few of the assassins who’d spoken against me. Some had been warriors in their former lives, but most were just people. Gardeners. Tailors. Artists. Forcing them to fight would be cruel. Something the old me might have done, but Leena had changed all that. She’d brought me to life once again.
Nae miele.
My blades melted to a pool at Darrien’s feet. “Leave. Start your own guild. Take the members who desire to join you, and get the hell out of my home.”
No one moved.
I stepped in close, bringing my nose inches from Darrien. “This is your only warning. Stay if you’d like, but if you ever speak out of turn again, it won’t be your picture on the wall next to Talmage. It will be your head.”
Straightening my back, I eyed all my brethren.
“This is the only offer of free passage you’ll get. Leave now, or consider yourself a permanent member of Cruor. Stay, and help me build something new. If you don’t want to take on bounties, don’t. If you do, fine. But I’ll never force your hand again. Cruor’s Oath should be a decision you make, not one I dictate. We’ll find a way to survive, because our strength comes from each other.” I toed the pool of blood before me, reminding them of the power I could’ve used—and never would. Not against them.
The old ways were officially over. It was time to start anew.
Silence stretched on for minutes. Then, a flurry of movement and shadows exploded around us. Darrien stormed from the building, sweeping out onto the lawns with enough darkness in his wake to make up half the guild. The rest of my brethren remained in place, cautious smiles pulling at their lips.
Emelia approached me from the foot of the stairs. “I’m not sure what this means for the guild in the long run.” She glanced back to the top of her stairs where her twin brother, Iov, leaned against the railing. Born together, died together, and born again—together. “But I always thought it was stupid to pretend that I didn’t fear death—for myself or those I love.”
I nodded once to her and the rest of the assassins lingering along the staircase, fidgeting and waiting for guidance. Looking to the oil painting on the mantel, I could’ve sworn Talmage was smiling.
Iov slunk down the stairs to stand by his sister, dark feathered hair teasing his forehead, and offering the broadest grin I’d ever seen. “What’s the plan, boss?”
I took a steadying breath and faced what remained of my family. “First, we need to find Hireath.”
Twenty-eight
Leena
I’d once thought the shadows around Noc were the ultimate void, but the sheer whiteness of my cell, the total absence of color, was even more chilling. It was impossible not to cry. And yet, I couldn’t give up. Even if I died in this prison, I’d never let Wynn use me. Turning my focus back to my chains, I set to work on the screws. I’d been twisting them nonstop since he’d left me, and while only one had shown the tiniest movement, it kept my hands busy. Gave me purpose and direction.
I will make it through this.
The constant droning from the bird beast continued. His cacophonous call made it hard to focus, tothink. But I could move. Turn a screw a little at a time.
The far wall shuddered, and the slab of stone leading to freedom cracked open. Morning. I stopped toying with the shackle and hid my hands. Disgust rippled through me as Wynn closed the door behind him.
He frowned, stepping across the room to crouch in front of me. “You’ve been crying.” Thick fingers wiped salt water from my cheeks.
My stomach twisted, and I jerked my chin away. “Don’t touch me.”
He dropped his hands. “You know how tamings go. Every beast is different. I might have to touch you to win you over. There will be some trial and error, of course.”
Wynn snapped his fingers, and the Havra who served me food appeared with a white cloth in her hands. Four blue eyes blinked at me, and she placed the fabric at my feet before disappearing.
