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“Thank you, Idonea,” the High Hierophant said, like she’d offered him a courtesy. “You may leave now.”

Rage snapped through her sharply.

Her hands curled into fists. How dare he rip open her mind?

The mirrors stood placid once more. The witches who'd assisted him were already gone.

Her nails lengthened without conscious command, biting deep into her palms. Blood welled in crescents, the Current surged in response, unfurling like something hungry.

She grasped the most volatile threads. Her body trembled with the strain.

“Get up, Riven,” commanded the High Hierophant.

She raised her head, glaring towards him. The throb in her skull pulsed harder; her first warning that the spell would exact its price.

Idonea wove the Current towards the mirrors.

Her intent sharpened like a blade. His spell had opened her mind, and she would return the cost.

The High Hierophant’s face blanched as realisation dawned. He took two sharp steps back. “Templars!”

Idonea didn’t stop; blood dripped from her palms. The Current thickened with it.

She whispered, through clenched teeth, “Break.”

The magic bucked, caught, and then, the mirrors exploded. A burst of shattering glass tore outward in a vicious roar. Jagged shards erupted from every surface, each one shimmering with a faint crimson glow.

The shards twisted in the air, spinning, leaving thin red trails behind them like burning comets.

The door crashed open. Templars surged in.

The High Hierophant shrieked as the spinning shards sliced across him. Thin cuts opened along his arms, his shins, a shallow line across his cheek. Blood beaded along the glowing cuts, as if the glass had cauterised and cut simultaneously.

Idonea staggered. The world tilted sharply, her stomach dropping like the floor gave way. The cost hit her. A wave of nausea and vertigo smashed into her. Her vision blurred.

She tasted blood again, warm and metallic on her tongue.

The shards lost their glow and clattered harmlessly to the floor.

Idonea swayed once, twice, then dropped to her knees.

The Hierophant didn't move. He watched her the way a man watches a fire he cannot put out.

Chapter 24

Asecond crash slammed the already open door wider.

Idonea tried to tilt her head, but the world pitched again.

Alcaeus was first through, jaw clenched. Lysander was a heartbeat behind him, going straight to her.

“Witchling—” His voice cut short when he saw the blood soaking her palms and nose. He dropped to his knees beside her, one arm instantly bracing her shoulders before she could collapse again. “Hey, hey, look at me. Breathe.” His hand hovered near her face, afraid to touch but desperate to. “What did they do to you?”

She couldn’t form the words. The dizziness was too heavy, her tongue swollen.

Behind them, Alcaeus turned towards the High Hierophant. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he stepped closer.

The High Hierophant clutched his cut arm, robes torn, eyes wide with a fury that didn’t reach his trembling fingers. He opened his mouth.