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“But that is what you are,” he ground out. “Inside these walls, Briar, you are a mouse in a cave of monsters. I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—to make the stakes clear. To explain what happens if you step out of line. Evidently, I have not been clear enough.”

“I’ve been trapped in that room for months—dragged around whenever you need something⁠—”

“As all good pets are.”

“—healing the bastards slaughtering my kin⁠—”

“I’ve never forced you to lay hands on the men responsible for your sisters.”

“Moros—”

“You made that bed yourself, sunspot,” he sneered. “I never forced your hand, though I admire your tenacity, misguided as it may be.”

“What in all seven levels of hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That I expect more from you.”

I blinked, my spine going rigid.

“It means I did not stand guard over the two of you for months just to watch you stroll willingly into my brother’s thrall.”

Before my brain could assemble a response, Adrastos shook his head and reached for my face. I dropped my weight, shoved the handle down, and toppled backward onto the balcony, evading his touch. He prowled after me looking twelve kinds of pissed off.

“Don’t touch me,” I breathed, spinning away and absurdly relieved when he followed.

The petal-soft brush of familiar blooms across my palm was all the reassurance I needed.

We stopped at the same time, both of us breathing hard as he glowered down at me, the black of his pupils tightening with rage. “The next time you decide to throw away years of calculated effort and months of perilous precautions meant to preserve your freedom, do us all a favor and throw yourself on Moros’ cock. It’s where you’ll end up when you’re caught anyway.”

Rage roared through me like a wall of fire. I spit in his face, and his entire body went rigid. “Go to hell.”

He held my stare as a humorless chuckle rolled out of him. Wiping a scarred hand over his face, he shook his head. “I can’t decide whether it’s infuriating or darling that you think I’m not already there.” Disappointment carved deeper into his features. “Go to bed or damn your fate. It makes no difference to me.”

Without another word, he took two long steps backward. Before I could make sense of it, he perched on the balcony rail and simply threw himself over.

I lunged forward, my free palm slamming onto the cold railing just as an enormous black bird surged skyward.

For reasons I absolutely refused to examine, tears burned behind my eyes.

The Raven. That was what he’d claimed to be all those months ago. Moonlight shimmered across ethereal blue-black feathers, and suddenly the title made perfect sense.

Only… he was magnificent in his grace—one with the wind.

Heart lodged in my throat, I watched him glide away from the manor toward the cliffs and the roaring sea beyond. Then he banked hard left and vanished into the night.

FORTY-TWO

BROKEN PIECES

CYRUS

August 3rd, 5:59AM

The day after Freya wielded Solskari light, I started my morning like most others—glaring up at the throne that stole my life away.

Power.

All things worth having wither and die in the pursuit of power. My mother was proof enough. Her bullshit had proven none of us were ever adequate for her.