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He chuckles, a low, rough sound somehow worse than the creak of the chair. “Anything you say, little bird.”

I turn my back to him, pulling the covers tighter around me, and close my eyes. But even as I will myself to sleep, I can’t ignore the way his presence seems to fill the space between us. Even with the pillow wall, I can feel him—his warmth radiating through the divide, his breathing a quiet rhythm against the crackle of the fire.

When slumber finally greets me, I gratefully sink into its embrace.

Chapter 10

Aella

A golden eagle towers above me, its wings outstretched as if to shield me from the shadows at its back. They writhe and whisper around me, their voices a chorus of accusations.

“You failed her,” they hiss. “You failed them all.”

“You think you’ve escaped me, Starling?” The Eagle’s voice cuts through the choir, and the cold press of steel stings my throat. “I wonder, if I slit your throat open now, what else might bleed out of you?”

I try to move, but when I look down, my feet are rooted to the floor.

No. Not rooted.

My toes, once flesh and blood, have hardened into stone, their edges blending into the veined marble beneath me.

The transformation creeps upward, consuming my calves, then my thighs.

My torso is next, the fabric of my tunic hardening into folds of carved stone. My arms freeze mid-reach, one clutching at my chest in a futile attempt to hold on to what’s left of me, the other outstretched, a fractured sword forming in my grip.

“You thought you could escape me?” he says, though his voice has changed—sharper, colder. My head jerks up as Keres emerges from the gloom, a sword held in his grasp and his cruel red eyes gleaming in the dim light.

The stone tightens around my throat, silencing a scream that burns in my lungs.

“Aella.”

“Maybe this will remind you of your place.”

The sword swings for my neck—

A scream lodges in my throat as my eyes snap open to a room shrouded in an eerie half-light.

A figure looms over me.

My hand darts to my thigh, closing around the hilt of my dagger. Something tangles around my legs as I kick it away, then lunge.

The shadow moves, but I’m faster. My shoulder slams into it, and we hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through my bones. I straddle the figure, pinning it beneath me, my dagger raised high, poised to strike.

My palm burns, and crimson light flares in the room.

“Aella.”

I freeze, my breath stalling as my eyes adjust.

Lyxander.

He lies motionless beneath me. That crimson glow spills across his face, gleaming along his cheekbones and smooth jaw.

“You’re okay.” His voice is calm despite the blade hovering inches from his throat. “Just breathe. It’s just me.”

The words snap me back to the present, and I become acutely aware of everything—the wound in my side screaming at me to move with caution, the burning sensation in my palm, the strange crimson light, and the solid feel of his body trapped between my thighs.

A chill rushes over my skin, and I push off him, scrambling to my feet and backing away.