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Ikarus cast his eyes down. His hands were fisted so tightly by his sides she wouldn’t be surprised if there were cuts on his palms. “I had to bring you back to the castle after what happened.” His voice didn’t sound right either. Too soft and quiet, like he was talking to a wounded animal that needed to be put down. “I tried to calm you there, but you wouldn’t stop screaming.”

It started to come back then. Blood and strangled screams and bodies exploding, battering into her mind so quickly it felt like she was being struck over and over again.

Soraya tore the blanket from her legs, her chest seized so tightly a gasp spilled from between her teeth. Her clothes were covered in blood. So, so much more than what was on Ikarus.

Her chest heaved, her breath leaving her in short, rapid pants.

What had she done?

Movement in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Ikarus approaching her slowly. “You don’t need to be frightened. I’m not going to hurt you.” He raised a hand, reaching for her face—

Soraya jerked away. “Don’t touch me! You did something to me! You made me … kill that soldier.”

His hand fell away. Watching her face, he slowly knelt before her, making sure to keep a good few feet between them. “What do you remember?”

Blinking, Soraya rubbed the side of her face and tried to cast her mind back. It was like trying to walk through drying clay, but the pieces were there if she concentrated hard enough.

“You’d just … pulled that shrapnel out of my leg. I was in a lot of pain, and you tore a piece of your shirt off to stem the bleeding.” A brief glance at his shirt to see that it was indeed torn at the bottom.

“You grabbed my face,” she continued. “You were so gentle …. Then that soldier came around the corner, and Morana was there and … Your heart was beating so fast. I remember thinking that when you grabbed me. You … touched the side of my head, then it was like fog had been poured into my brain and I—Oh Gods.” Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling her sob. “I killed him.”

Ikarus’s eyes drifted to the floor again.

“What did you do to me?” Soraya demanded, each word a broken sob. “Why … Why did you make me kill him?”

He tried to hide it, but a wince passed over his face. “I didn’t have a choice.”

He looked as though he meant it, but Soraya didn’t care. It didn’t soften the ache in her chest or stop her heart from feeling like it was tearing right down the middle.

Pain paved the way for anger and suddenly she was sitting up straighter, teeth bared in a snarl if only to rip out his throat. “What did you do to me?”

Ikarus slowly rose to his feet. He strode over to the hearth, fingers curled into claws against the stone top, and stared into the flames. “Ramapheal never cared about your memories.” His voice was flat. Dead. “When I captured you, he linked our lives together to give me greater access into your mind—that was true, but it was just an excuse to get in your head and keep you distracted while I focused on the real task.”

Soraya pushed off the sofa, suddenly unable to sit. “What task?”

“Every time I was in your mind, I was leaving threads of my magic inside you. The more memories I uncovered, the more threads, the deeper we went, the longer the lines became, and now …” He frowned at his hand as if he could see where all those strands wrapped around each of his fingers, like he saw those threads and hated them. Hated the connection to her. “They lead back to me.”

“Like a puppet on strings.” That was how she’d felt in Illieck. Like someone was pulling her strings and thrusting her hand out. Someone behind her.

Soraya could only stare at Ikarus in silent horror. Stupid. She’d been so, so, so stupid. All these weeks, she’d thought she was winning by keeping those memories of the bases and locations of the Arch pieces hidden away, but it turns out she wasn’t leading him through a maze as much as she was being herded through it straight to slaughter.

“Yes.” Ikarus dropped his hand. “The Rebirth gave me the power to memory walk as well as move things with my mind, but my Ethereal blood means I am of this world and am not. Means I could plant little pieces of myself within your mind, that I can call upon when I wish. Aeris thinks that might be why you have powers—because you’re siphoning it from the threads I’ve left behind.”

Soraya’s hand slid to the side of her head, tears pricking her eyes as her fingers trailed across a dull, needle-like ache she’d felt after each of their sessions that she now feared was more than just a headache. Was that the threads? The remnants of his magic?

Magic. The word clanged through her. She’d used magic in Illieck. Magic that she was supposedly stealing from him right now.

Moving on instinct, Soraya thrust a hand toward his face, thrust all that power she felt earlier into the tips of her fingers and made a fist.

Nothing happened.

No. No. Where was it? Where’d the magic go? It’d been there before—she’d felt it. Just like she’d felt that soldier’s blood in her fingertips before she’d killed him.

Oh, Gods. Her heart felt like it was being torn open. She’d killed him. That poor soldier.

Soraya was panting now. The room was starting to sway. How had she let this happen? How could she have not felt what he was really doing? Or worse yet, how could she have let her guard down like this? Have seen him as anything other than the monster he was.

“I’m like you …” The thought was horrifying.