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BRYONY
The cold presence carried a will that wasn’t mine.
Stellan tore his mouth from mine. His hands stayed firm on my hips while his eyes searched my face.
“Bryony?”
I tried to answer.
The Crown tightened against my head. Its points pressed through my skin near my temples and at the base of my skull. Pain flashed behind my eyes, sharp enough to buckle my knees.
Stellan caught me and lowered us both to the floor.
“What do you feel?”
“There’s a…”
My throat closed around the rest.
The cold moved deeper. It slid down my neck, spread across my chest and reached for every place the Crown had touched while I used it. Harrowmere’s doors and wards remained open to me, yet another hand had settled over mine.
The woman inside the Crown had been quiet enough to let me mistake her silence for safety. She woke with a hunger aimed straight at Stellan.
White light burst from the metal and struck the floor. It spread around Stellan in a wide circle, then climbed his arms.
He released me and pushed to his feet. “Move away from the throne.”
My body refused.
My knees straightened without any choice from me. One foot moved, then the other, carrying me backwards towards the throne. I fought every step and failed to slow them.
I could see Stellan reach for me. I felt the air move when he stepped closer. My legs, arms and mouth belonged to the will pressing through the Crown.
The first step touched my heel. My body turned, climbed and lowered onto the throne. The cold presence settled me against the carved stone as if it had done this many times before.
Fear tore through the bond.
Stellan stopped because he had felt my panic, even if I couldn’t tell him why.
“You’re still there,” he said.
I forced my fingers to move. One small twitch dragged my nails over my thigh.
His gaze dropped to my hand and came back to my face. “I see you.”
The presence pushed harder. My fingers flattened against my leg, and my spine straightened against the throne.
Pale links formed around Stellan’s wrists.
He grabbed the first chain and pulled. It didn’t break. More links appeared between his hands and the Crown, made from white light with a dark red centre.
They looked nothing like the iron he had worn for a century.
They held him just as tightly.
Stellan braced one foot against the lowest step and dragged both arms apart. The chains stretched. A hard pressure closed around my heart.
