Page 146

One of those shadows below moved again now. Theron’s fingers grasped the handle of the sunrifle strapped across his back, ready. He was so fucking ready for anything or anyone who dared fuck with him right now—

A figure seemingly appeared out of nothing, concealed in armor and a hooded cloak, and darted toward the observatory. Metal clanged, and that cloaked figure was ascending the iron steps, moving so quickly Theron’s heart was suddenly beating faster, harder—

Ma’varea rushed across the top deck. “I can’t stay,” he said, breathless. “You … you need to move your pieces of the Arch right fucking now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The human …” Ma’varea was saying quickly, panicked, tripping over the words. It was the first time Theron had heard him sound ruffled, a notion that sent his own heart racing like the galloping metal hooves of that familiar he’d fled on after he’d seen Soraya. “Something’s been done to her … to her mind …. It’s Ethereal power, something that runs deep like … mind control, a spell—I don’t know, but she has no control when she’s under it.”

Stupid, stupid, and absolutely not the time, but relief washed over Theron’s chest. He’d known it wasn’t her, that she would never side with the Dar’rak—even if Command didn’t want to hear it. That relief quickly turned to cold terror though when Ma’varea said, “Ramapheal’s going to use it to make her take us to your pieces of the Arch.”

Theron’s soul nearly fell out of his body. “What? No! When?” Fear and horror, both bright and fucking burning, coursed through him like a lightning strike.

“First thing tomorrow.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Twiigs asked.

“Not without exposing myself.”

Theron bared his teeth. “Then expose yourself! This is bigger than you, than all of us! If Ramapheal gets another piece of the Arch, then we’ve all but lost—”

“I know,” Ma’varea ground out, hands flying to the top of his helmet like he wanted to rip out the hair beneath. “I fucking know—but there’s things at stake for me too, all right? People below that rely on me to protect them, and if it gets out that I’ve been the one leaking all these secrets …”

Ramapheal would execute them all. Likely in ways Theron could never imagine. He was hundreds of years old, after all, and had spent most of that trapped in a prison designed by his enemy. It wasn’t hard to believe he’d perfected a million different ways to inflict pain, make it last days or weeks or years.

“Why not get your family out, then?” Theron was grasping at straws now, he knew that, but he had to do something. There had to be a way around this. “Steal as many helmets as you can and bring them all up here? We could shelter you and—”

Ma’varea’s laugh was as bitter as it was hoarse. “And your people would accept us, would they?” He shook his head. “Even if I could convince the others, it’s not that simple. I’m in too deep. And Ramapheal would never let this go. He’d hunt me and my family to the ends of this earth for betraying him.”

“So, what do we do?”

Ma’varea blew out a breath. “I don’t know. She’s fighting this thing, but it’s … broken her. I’ll try my best to slow her down when we’re out there tomorrow, but once she sets her sights on a target, there’s nothing that can stop her. She’s lethal, which is why Ramapheal wanted her for this in the first place. So go back to your base, move those pieces from wherever you’re keeping them, and get as many people out of there as you can; otherwise, this is going to be a fucking bloodbath.”

49

I’ll kill you for this.

They’d been Soraya’s parting words to Ikarus when he’d put her under the Hex again. It was all she’d thought when he’d phased them here. When they’d materialized just outside the old palace and he’d led her inside.

She wanted to die. She’d tried to do it herself last night. Sitting in a dark corner of that dungeon, she’d pressed her hands against her chest, tried to gather or pull or whatever the fuck these creatures did to use their magic and crush her heart like she’d done to that soldier in Illieck.

She’d tried again and again, searching her mind for any clues on how she could use this horrible thing now running through her veins like poison just so she could slit her throat open and end hers and everyone else’s suffering.

No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t find it.

She couldn’t remember the first time she’d been placed under the Hex. It’d been too unfamiliar, too sudden, like being dragged under a harsh wave without having a chance to take a breath, twisting and flipping under the surface with no sense of which way was up or down. She’d been so swallowed up last time, in both it and her own panic, that she hadn’t noticed anything happening around her until it was too late.

She could feel the strings this time—no, not strings exactly, more like sharp pins forced through her muscles, pushing and pulling her movements. She was aware of the Hex now; how it started at the base of her skull, tingling as it flared out across her brain and then down her spine. Felt it lacing itself through her fingers and toes so it could control every inch of her.

This time, though, she studied it: the way it made her veins hum and her pulse quicken to the point she felt like she was vibrating, her whole body alert and ready for anything. She’d been aware of everything in Lumirel. Every toss of her arm. Of the power thrumming through her veins.

She’d been aware of the screams, too. Of the terrified faces she’d cut down, those who’d gotten in her way.

She could not fight this thing. She tried, but the Hex’s claws ran deep. She felt as though she was trapped inside a mirror, screaming as she watched someone who looked exactly like her move through the world. She banged on that mirror now, pounding her fists against it so hard they would’ve been covered in blood if this were real.

Ikarus took her arm, not even deigning to look at her, and led her through the ruined palace and into a large room she recognized several floors below the throne room. A ballroom once.

Soraya screamed but no sound came out as he guided her inside. Screamed as she watched herself stride across the room, eyes as black and lifeless as coals from a fire long since dead, and stand before Ramapheal.