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As if sensing my reaction, Darvol placed two enormous hands on either side of me, grasping my upper arms to keep me in place as he leaned in close enough to nearly touch foreheads.

“We will show you.”

I didn’t speak as he lifted me bodily from the floor and set me down several feet past the pit, before what appeared to be a roughly hewn coffin made of crystal. There was no better description, I realized as the thick sheet of clear stone that resembled a lid lifted on its own, revealing a swirling fog of color and light so dense it appeared opaque. It reminded me of the fog that enveloped the ship when Darvol had first appeared to whisk me away from the battle.

“Do not fear,” Zariah said soothingly as Darvol swept me off my feet once again and lowered me into the ether bath.

My heart pounded against my ribcage like it was ready to bolt, but the rest of me was frozen and sluggish. I wanted to fight back or at least ask more questions, but I found I could do neither. I tried to scream, the sound ready in my throat, but it was all swallowed a moment later by the feeling of being submerged inside of a cloud.

I could feel nothing below me, holding me up. It was as though I’d been absorbed by a void. My senses blanched. All I saw was light. All I felt was air. All I heard was quiet, akin to cotton stuffed in my ears. I was no longer aware of my body either, which was the most disconcerting part. I was simply consciousness floating in space with no voice, no limbs, no way to fight.

And then I was in the palace in Centos, in a familiar room, as a young version of the man I once called Father stood before me.

Forty-Three

Leuruna

The world came in focus slowly as I fought to blink away the weight of fatigue. My entire body ached like I’d been tossed down the stone steps of the dungeon. And my neck—it felt like I imagined it would if someone flayed the skin from my body. I lifted a hand, or tried to, but found the resistance of rough rope restrained my wrists at my sides.

“How? How have you withheld it from me?” Serano demanded, appearing like a wraith.

My brows furrowed as I wriggled, testing the strength of my bonds. I was still on the bed in his rooms, and the smell of anise was still sharp in my nostrils. Opening my mouth to respond, a pathetic rasp escaped in place of my answer. It was just as well, considering the words I’d tried to speak. Serano sighed deeply.

Sorry for putting you out, arsehole.

“Come,” he called over his shoulder.

I heard chains rattling before I saw the woman approach. No, not just woman—elf. She was obviously a mountain elf, tall, muscular build, though her pallor made her appear ill or at the very least terrified. Her large dark eyes met mine then darted away and down as though it hurt to acknowledge another prisoner. Her long dark hair was wild and matted in places, having clearly gone too long without a proper washing. Her clothing, though sparse to begin with, was in tatters, with rips and tears gouged down her left side.

She must’ve put up a fight. I smiled, liking her instantly.

“Heal her,” Serano commanded.

I bristled at the way he talked down to her. His tone and words affected her the same way they always got to me. I could see it in the way her shoulders drooped and her hair swung in her face. But now, seeing it happening to someone else? I no longer accepted his disrespect— it made my blood boil.

When she was slow to lift her manacled hands, Serano shoved her toward the bed, causing her to nearly topple onto me. She gasped a little before righting herself, then raised her eyes enough to take in the wounds around my throat.

The way her eyes widened before she dropped her lids again made me wonder exactly how bad the damage was. One thing I knew for certain was that the collar was still firmly in place, its unforgiving metal rubbing painfully against my raw skin.

Her hands shook as she lifted them, rattling the chains that ran down between the cuffs to her feet. She set her palms over my torn skin. Blinding pain erupted, making me arch my back in a silent scream. But it was over as fast as it had come, replaced by a warm sensation like a bath filled with herbs that had been heated near a fire. The soothing effect had me closing my eyes in relief. The skin beneath and around the collar itched something awful as it stitched itself back together, but I supposed that was better than the sluicing pain.

When she’d finished and the bath of energy subsided, she stepped backwards, awkwardly rattling the chains as she moved. She kept her gaze on the floor. I desperately wanted her to look at me so I could somehow impart that it would be okay—that I knew what she was feeling and that I intended to free us both. Somehow.

After all, I’d killed Fiorge when it had seemed impossible. There had to be a way to at least incapacitate Serano. His magic had never compared to my own, and that was likely why he’d taken every opportunity to belittle me and make me feel less than him. He was weak.

It was a truth that struck me with the force of a lightning bolt.

My gaze roved to him, my eyes wide. He grinned in response. I assumed he mistook my expression for one of fear and awe. He hadn’t healed me. He’d forced a prisoner to do it. It had nothing to do with his power.

“Let’s try this again,” he said, leaning over me. “How did you do it?”

“How did I do what?” I replied as evenly as possible.

His face darkened, and he leaned down further, hands on either side of me and hair falling like a curtain around us.

“How did you prevent your magic from flowing through the crystal? How did you keep it? How did you defy me?” Each question grew more and more heated, his jaw so clenched that I was surprised it didn’t crack.

I let a smile curl the corner of my mouth. “It was never yours, and it never will be.”