Page 27

“No,” he says. I hold his gaze. He’s lying; he either set the plan in motion or puppeteered someone else to.

“That’s too bad,” I reply. “I’m not in the mood to play nice. Since you stopped me, threatened me, and lied to me, you get to be my example of exactly what not to do.” I smile.

My blade flicks from my hand and drives beneath his ribs, punching up into his chest and pinning him to the wall behind him. The sound he makes is wet and broken. Blood spills from his mouth as his body jerks once, twice, before failing him.

He can’t form words. He merely coughs, choking on his own blood as the dagger shreds lung and heart alike.

It’s quite a scene, really. One I’d be happy to savor if I had the time.

I take in the room. Wide eyes lock on to me. The air hums with fear, sharp and metallic as blood drips onto stone. The only sound left is his final breath, rattling across the floor.

No one moves. Even the ones stupid enough to think they can take me down keep their hands frozen at their sides, staring and waiting to see if I’ll turn on them next.

“Now,” I say, “don’t get in my way. It’s been a very long night.” I turn away from them.

“Do you have any idea who you just killed?” one of the slayers calls after me, panic cracking through his bravado.

I don’t look back. “I know exactly who I just killed, love.”

My cloak whispers across the stone as I move, the only sound daring to break the silence. No one follows, their breaths suspended in the wake of the kill. The door slams shut behind me, final and echoing, sealing what I’ve done into the walls of the Academy.

I know what it will cost. I know whose fury I’ve just summoned. But if you take someone from me, I’ll take someone from you.

The winding stairwell greets me like an old wound I never let heal. I haven’t set foot here since Silas “freed” me, and the place hasn’t changed. The same sour stench. The same gray stone. The same dim, suffocating light pressing in from every angle. The same unrelenting coldness that bites at your skin more and more the higher you climb.

These halls hold no joy. No mercy. Not a single happy memory, except the one of me walking out. But soon enough, there’ll be one of me taking it all.

Every time I blink, I see Maddoc’s body. Bloodied, broken, lifeless. The image rises behind my eyes, sharp and merciless, refusing to fade no matter how hard I try to bury it. Fury coils through me, tight and starving, talons scraping against my ribs, clawing for release. It wants blood. It wants justice. It wants him. I force it down.

A cool sting of night air brushes against my skin, raising gooseflesh along my arms. I’m close now. Exactly where I want to be. Where I need to be. I hear the thunder echo through the stairwell.

His door is cracked open. Odd. Silas never leaves it ajar. He must be expecting me. The realization settles heavy in my chest, but it doesn’t slow me. If anything, it steadies my hand. I draw a slow breath and push the door open the rest of the way.

The wide windows are thrown open to the storm, curtains stirring lazily in the wind, rain misting the air. Firelight spills across the stone floor, flames dancing wildly in the stirred air. Thunder growls somewhere beyond, distant but restless.

It’s like the years that have passed since I was last here never happened. It’s all the same furnishings. The same high ceilings painted with the Slayers Academy Order emblem. The same shadows clinging to the corners. The same carefully curated order meant to project control. Power. Permanence.

But suddenly, I know it’s all about to change.

“Neressa. As expected.” Silas’s voice carries easily through the room. Once it would have sent goosebumps skating down my spine. Now it does nothing.

He steps out from behind the floor-to-ceiling curtain billowing by the window, firelight gilding the sharp angles of his face. Lightning cracks behind him.

“Hiding?” I ask.

“Never.” That smirk, too practiced and pleased, makes something inside me twist tighter.

I move farther into the room, slowly. “You crossed a fucking line,” I say. My voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t need to. “You royal scum. Pretending to be a Vale while your name was Braveheart all along.” The word tastes foul on my tongue. Royal blood, yet controlling slayers and pirates, and knowing of the treaties. “Disgusting,” I spit.

Silas chuckles softly. “Ah, so you went and saw my brother?” He waits for a response but doesn’t get one. Amusement flickers through his icy eyes as he tilts his head. “But I am curious, how did you manage that with your little curse tying you so sweetly to land?”

“Don’t change the subject.” I stop, standing tall and steady as stone. “You tortured someone I care about. Then you left me to finish the job.” The air tightens. “There are lines you don’t cross,” I continue, pausing just long enough for it to hurt. “If you start a job”—my lip curls—“you fucking finish it.”

Behind me, the fire flares, stretching a long, distorted shadow of me across the floor. It climbs the walls like something alive. My hood hides my face, but I don’t need him to see it.

“And deny you the satisfaction of spilled blood?” Silas muses. “I know how much you love that.” Mockery coats every word as he turns away from me and strolls toward his desk, utterly unconcerned. Like this is a lecture. Like this is still his room.

“That boy,” he continues casually, “was standing in your way to greatness, your destiny. He was reckless. Sloppy. He didn’t even bother to cover his tracks.”