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The king had taken Anaria away from me, and there was no doubt what he meant to do next.
Rage wiped everything away as I plunged into the cold bottomless depths of my power and let the darkness consume me.
Until there was no me.
Only my will, commanding the magic to find Anaria.
To save her.
To slay anyone who stood in my way.
The world, the city, everything disappeared, sliced apart on the sharp edges of my wrath, and then I was moving.
41
ANARIA
After the Reaper-infested soldiers unceremoniously dumped me in the corner of Torin’s throne room, I crawled to the nearest wall while Carex screamed at the mages to ready the altar for the ritual.
They hissed at him with razor sharp teeth, black eyes flashing.
“I heard it’s hard to get good help these days.” My father’s glare promised a slow, painful death, and I tipped my head back against the ancient stone wall, letting the damp coolness seep into me along with a rush of fresh magic.
“Looks like they were right.”
The cold of the stone against my cheek took the edge off the sheer amounts of power pouring into my body. The Oracle had called me a vessel in her bullshite prophecy, but I’d never imagined I’d end up like an overfilled canteen, bursting at the seams.
“We’ll see how talkative you are once I start carving you apart,” Carex hissed. “When I am finished, I’ll spike your carcass on the battlements for all to see.”
“For who to see?” I shrugged. “You sacrificed your entire army for your cause. I doubt anyone cares who you spike where.” I held both their hateful stares, let them see I was not afraid.
“Do your worst.”
The Mistress prowled closer, face glittering with malice as she focused on the king. “Youpromisedher to me.You fucking promised,” she snarled, hands clenching and unclenching compulsively.
“Did I?” Carex looked genuinely confused. “Don’t know if there will be anything left when I’m done.”
She looked like she was about to explode, and even though I shouldn’t, I winked. “Shame when you don’t get your favorite toy, isn’t it?”
She bared her teeth and hissed, the personification of every nightmare I’d ever had about her.
The awful skull throne stared out vacantly and I pretended to be completely helpless as the mages prepared the altar, the slack-faced soldiers awaiting their next orders, the Mistress snarling and snapping like a rabid dog.
Better they believed me to be harmless than know the truth.
I’d never been more powerful in my entire life, and the second I figured out what to do, I was burning this place down. But for now, I needed something to help me contain the unrelenting pressure. I slid my hand into my pockets, searching for my iron bands…but my hand closed over the keystone instead.
Power thrummed through me in that odd, rhythmic pulse, like I held the world’s beating heart in the palm of my hand. Out of habit, I rubbed my thumb over the smooth surface, my magic jumping in response.
The inflow of magic was finally slowing, which was good, because every time I blinked I saw stars and my body was boneless. The rhythm must have something to do with the rebirth of the world, and all this wild magic…Maybe this ancient power was simply looking for a home.
If it chose me, I was fine with that, because I had a feeling Carex—and the Mistress—wouldn’t go down easily. They hadn’t taken my knife away. Clearly, they didn’t think I was a threat.
But I couldn’t hold another drop of magic. All I needed was an opportunity—both of them to move close together, or close enough I could neutralize them long enough to take out those mages.
The Mistress never stopped staring and a shiver of dread went through me. Could she see what was happening with the magic when everyone else was oblivious? Or was she simply imagining all the horrid things she’d do to me for killing her disgusting brother?
“You’ll finally get what you deserve, little thief.”Vicious.Her whispered threat echoed through me like a death promise. “I’ll make sure you survive this so I can make you pay.”
