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Fucker.
All eyes turn to her.
“Why if it isn’t my bride.”
“Don’t shut it down, please,” she begs, trying to inch closer to the shimmering space.
Something Taranus notices, instantly. “Grab her.”
“No!” Fin roars as he rushes out in front of Ember, blade drawn.
Double fucker.
Taranus grins. “I’m surprised you’re still breathing,” he says. “Perhaps Meena meant less to you than you let everyone believe.”
Fin’s upper lip raises in a snarl. “Perhaps destiny is simply giving me more time to kill you before the Veil takes me.”
Taranus chuckles. “Doubtful. Kill him. Bring her to my tent so we can finish this.”
His men close in on them, and the restraints binding me snap. I leap from the brush. “Stop!” My order is laced with magic, light and dark colliding. Everyone stops moving and turns to face me. Everyone except Taranus, Lloren, and Conary, who continues toward Ember, not even breaking stride. He grips her by the back of her neck and rips her away from Fin, raising his blade.
Luckily, Fin spins and blocks the blow with his own.
Taranus’s gaze narrows on mine a moment before he smiles. “You are truly losing it, aren’t you brother?”
“You’re the one who is going to lose.”
“I have my wife, and soon, I’ll be more powerful than ever. Lloren has seen it.”
She stares straight at me with eyes so black I can barely see the difference in her pupils and irises.
“Your witch is not a Seer.”
“Wrong. I’ve seen your destruction, Rafferty of Avon. Just as I foresaw my death and took precautions. Black magic has its benefits, wouldn’t you say so? A simple rejuvenation spell helped my body shove that dagger from my heart.”
Most of what she says falls on deaf ears, though, because all I can focus on is her mention of me.Rafferty of Avon.I know that voice.
She grins and snaps her fingers, transforming from the woman who drew pleasure in tormenting me, to an old woman I’ve only seen one other time. In my camp as she foretold a prophecy.
It was all a lie.
All of it.
“There is no prophecy,” Fin whispers. “’Twas all a lie to get Taranus to overthrow Rafferty.”
“Of course, there was a prophecy,” Lloren says. “It was just never meant for Rafferty.”
Ember’s eyes widen, and she looks from Taranus to me. In her terrified gaze, I see one thing other than fear: regret.
“Thank you for your message,” Taranus says. “After Joaquin’s return and bloody departure, we took precautions.” Taranus reaches into the top of his tunic and withdraws an amulet. “This prevents you from taking such liberties with us.”
But the magic in me can’t be bothered to care. Prophecies are a problem for tomorrow. Right now, the only thing I can focus on is freeing Ember.
“Let her go, or so help me, I will cut your fucking heart out,” I snarl at Conary.
To his credit, he actually looks concerned.
“Raffe—” Ember whimpers. “I’m sorry.”
