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It was when I’d also turned my back on my heritage. And become the caretaker of my sister.

It was all a lie.

Balram had taken her and…kept her prisoner here for all this time? The mere thought of what he might have been doing with her—to her—all these years caused the small bit of bile still in my stomach to come up, and I heaved acid onto the ground.

“Who is he?” Balram asked her. She remained silent.

“Tell me, or I’ll do to him what I like to do to you.”

Those words stripped whatever sense was left in my brain. I thrashed and growled like an animal as he approached, the glowing tips of the sharp, purple crystal in his staff pointed at me.

“He is my son,” she said. And the voice I thought had slipped from my memory brought a rush of emotion over me like a tidal wave.

Balram froze, the corners of his mouth twisting upward like serpents as he tilted his head to look at me. Then he reached down and shoved my hair from my ear, revealing the rounded tip of a halfling. The air held me prisoner as he ran a thumb over it, then released me.

“I should have seen the resemblance,” he muttered. “Miyal, is this why you’ve insisted I not kill the new prisoner?” he tsked, but his use of my mother’s name brought more stinging to my eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she screamed as she too struggled to free herself. Mountain elves like her were incredibly strong, but I had no doubt her bonds were also reinforced with magic. I was sure she’d have tried again and again. How was she even still sane?

“Right. Let’s ask the oracle then,” Balram said with a sneer. He strode to her position, and I yelled for him to stop—to regain his attention—anything to make him leave her alone. But he pressed the tip of the staff into her abdomen, and her body arched upward with a cry of pain that carved itself into my head as an indelible memory worse than any of the torture I’d endured so far.

But her cries died as quickly as they began, and she stopped fighting, going still as the light of the ether around her intensified, then glowed to match the crystal in the king’s staff. What was he doing?

“Is this the man you wouldn’t name? My enemy?” Balram demanded.

The voice that surfaced from my mother did not sound like her. It was void of emotion, deep, and carried across the space between us even though she spoke softly.

“This indeed is your enemy, Balram of Centos. He has found you, and events have been set in motion you cannot undo.”

He pressed into her harder, and blood began to drip from the points of contact with the top crystal in his scepter. The color and consistency of it brought back the memory of the contents of the healing vials that had been forced on me. The mountain elf he held was my mother. And I’d been forced to drink her blood.

I heaved again, but nothing more came up. The king ignored me.

“Why shouldn’t I kill him, then?”

“Because if you do, your kingdom will crumble, and the world itself will be torn apart.”

“And why should I believe you? You wish to save your son. It’s why you wouldn’t tell me his name.”

“The last part is true. I had enough control to keep his identity safe until now. But what I see is truth no matter who stands before you.”

He pushed harder, and her body trembled in response, more blood pouring down her skin. My muscles clenched so tightly they cramped, but still I couldn’t reach her.

“Then why would it not be to my advantage to kill my enemy, Miyal?” he hissed the words like they dripped poison, and he couldn’t wait to get them out of his mouth.

Don’t try to save me, I silently begged her. I am already destroyed.

“Because if you do, the Tromodian stone will be lost to you forever.”

“She speaks the truth,” I rasped, desperate to refocus his attention. “I have it. I am of the Fallow clan. You murdered my father and my uncle. I have the Tromodian stone, and it is hidden.”

Balram yanked the staff away from my mother, and her body sagged against the wall. He stalked toward me, eyes glowing with lavender light, face contorted and hungry. But I would not flinch away.

“That’s why she wouldn’t reveal my identity. And it is why I will stop you.”

The strike from his staff seemed to come from nowhere. And the searing pain was more than just the blow, it was magic that tore at my skin and set the wound on fire. I roared as I fell to the side, blood spraying outward in an arc. I glared defiantly up at him as he loomed above me, crystal pointed at my face. His hands quaked with barely controlled rage.

“Give it to me, and I’ll make this quick,” he demanded.