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“How well is ‘well’?”
His crimson eyes narrow. “Whatever you are considering, I will not agree to it.”
“I don’t need you to agree to it,” I point out. “I only need to issue the order.”
The tendons in his neck pulse, as if he’s fighting to break free of our bond so that he can end me in so many terrifying ways.
“Anyway,” I say, indifferent to his wrath. “If you were to lose a hand or two, would they grow back?”
“Grow back?” he roars. “You’re asking if my hands will grow back like a tree?”
“I wasn’t of thinking a tree in particular, but now that you say it . . .”
“No.”
“‘No’ what?”
“You have already caused me to endure such humiliation at the hands of these priestesses. I will endure no more.”
I place a hand on my hip. “Your injured pride is the least of my concerns right now, demon. If I cut off your hands to remove the manacles, will you be able to restore them? From what I’ve seen so far, your physical form is fluid and you can change your form at will—provided your magic isn’t bound. If you are released from the bindings and your magic is freed, it stands to reason that you should be able to conjure yourself new hands as easily as you can conjure clothes, blankets, and wings.”
He seethes with rage.
“Fine, we’ll do it this way. Tell me, Natharius, is what I say the truth?”
He grinds his teeth together but is unable to keep his mouth shut. Our bond compels him to speak. “Yes,” he hisses with all the hatred in the world.
“Perfect.” I roll up my sleeves so they don’t get splattered with the Void Prince’s blood, especially since my robes look new thanks to the priestesses cleaning them.
Natharius closes his eyes. I imagine he’s picturing in vivid detail all the ways he will torture me in the Abyss upon my demise. I know I’m playing with fire, but if all goes well then my death won’t be for another three centuries and I won’t have to bear the consequences of my current actions for a very long time. Besides, there’s no other way to break Natharius out of his bindings. Once the Void Prince is freed, hopefully his power will allow us to escape even if the priestesses catch us down here. They might have taken him prisoner, but Natharius claimed he was unable to cause any fatal damage because I commanded him to do everything in his power to find me a healer and keep me alive. I can only hope that claim is true.
“Look away,” I say to Zephyr. He doesn’t, and his bright eyes glitter. Apparently my faerie dragon has a vicious streak. I suppose this must be payback for Natharius threatening to eat him.
“Hold up your wrists,” I instruct Natharius. He has no choice but to obey.
“Make it quick,” he snaps.
“Don’t you want me to go so very slowly? It’s only fair I get to torture you a little if you plan on torturing me for the rest of eternity.”
His lip curls into a snarl. I decide not to push him any more, since I don’t have the time either to make the severing of his wrists slow, anyway. Luckily for him, it’ll have to be quick.
“Conparios,” I say, and Father’s staff materializes in my hands. I gather more aether and shape the magic into a wind spell. “Vent—”
Before I can finish, a shout shatters my concentration.
“You!”
I whirl around.
High Priestess Ahelin stands there, flanked by dozens of priestesses.
thirteen
“Stepawayfromthedemon,” the High Priestess commands.
Zephyr is the first to react. He darts into the cell and cowers behind Natharius and me. I’m sure the demon poses more of a threat, since the priestesses wouldn’t hurt a harmless faerie dragon. I think.
I glance between the High Priestess and the golden manacles binding Natharius and his magic. I could step away from the Void Prince and see if I can reason with the priestesses, though I’m not sure I’ll manage to explain myself out of the situation. My actions are incriminating enough. I could attempt castingventrezagain and hope Natharius quickly regains his magic once his hands and the manacles are removed, but the High Priestess could kill me before I finish the spell. Or maybe she won’t deal a fatal blow. Can I afford the risk?
