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I scrambled to my feet, my knees already weak, hands shaking. I was boxed in. Stone walls stretched to the sky on every side of me. I was back in the Labyrinth.
I threw myself into the closest wall, my arm and stomach blazing with crimson light as the magic buried in my curse marks reacted to my terror. I couldn't think straight, couldn't use logic to escape. I hammered on the stone with my fists until skin bled and the bones in my fingers snapped.
When the wall finally fell, Wynvail was on the other side, laid in a pool of blood where he'd bled to death because I was too slow.
* * *
I woke with a gasp,my whole body jerking and my hearing sensitive and sharp. I strained for the deep, groaning sounds of the Labyrinth, held my breath and waited for the roars of monsters and the screams of my mates as they died.
Wynvail was dead. He wasn't coming back.
I covered my mouth with my hand, my bottom lip wobbling and tears flooding my cheeks and soaking the pillow.
Wane and I had slept in his room; he hadn't asked for an explanation when I said we couldn't sleep in Wynvail's room. I didn't want anyone's scent to drown out my mate's. Because he was never coming back.
He was … dead. He—sacrificed himself for Wane. Let himself be unmade. Because I needed Wane, because I was so deeply unhappy without him that Wynvail felt it through our bond.
But also because Cronus had done such a thorough job in convincing Wynvail he was worth nothing. He thought I needed Wane more. He thought I'd be fine if he was dead.
I bit my bottom lip when it shook uncontrollably, and not even Wane's arm around my waist could hold the emotions at bay. I'd fucked up. By telling him over and over that I hated him, that he was a monster, and I wanted him dead—I'd fucked up. Because I only half meant it, and Wynvail had died never knowing that.
I slid out from under Wane's arm; it was a testament to how badly he was still hurt that he didn't even stir. It was probably the first deep sleep he'd had in years. In decades.
I brushed a lock of mahogany hair from his face, my bottom lip shaking as I stared at Wane, peaceful in his sleep. But there was no hiding the scars all over his body, and the damage I felt deep in his soul. Cronus had killed him over and over, exploiting an archdemon's near-invincibility, making sure it wasn't a true, final death so he could bring him back for even more torture.
I was going to hunt Cronus down and repay every bit of vile, inhumane pain he'd dealt every one of my mates. But I didn't know how to do that without him killing all of us first. I'd died once; I didn't plan on dying again.
I kept an eye on Wane, checking he didn't wake as I dressed, pulled on my boots, and grabbed my leather jacket. He needed to rest and heal. And I needed to outrun my nightmare.
But there was no escaping the gnawing ache in my chest. It was eating through my numbness, until Wynvail was all I could think of. All I could see was him punching his hand through a shop window and handing me a dagger because his alphas had hurt me and he didn't know how else to apologise.
It was all I could think of. The dagger he'd given me. The dagger I traded away like it was worthless.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't function. I had to get it back.
CHAPTER5
By the time I reached Iarlon, the sun was setting, but time was different here. It could have been sunrise in Edinburgh, could have still been pitch black night. Either way, I knew my mates were going to be furious when they realised I’d gone. I couldn't think straight; it only occurred to me that I'd put myself in danger, and been completely stupid by leavingalone, when I flew over the gates to the capital and landed outside the palace.
But it was too late to back out now, and the ache in my chest gnawed deeper, spreading until my whole body hurt. I needed the dagger. I needed—needed Wynvail back.
"Move," I barked at a cluster of winged women loitering in the pale hallway I stalked down. My skin crawled, needles stabbing into my pores. They were just standing there, sharing pictures.Chatting.
My eyes burned with tears, but rage beat against my breastbone until I wanted to kill them. I'd failed Wynvail. I let him think he meant nothing to me. He died thinking I could live without him; he didn't even tell me what would happen when we all walked out of that place with Wane. He didn't give us a chance to find another way. He accepted his fate. ButIcouldn't accept it.
One of them women twisted towards me, scowling at my tone. I saw the picture they were looking at—a squash-faced new baby with dark skin and cute tiny horns. My gut clenched. Yet another way I'd failed my mates. I could never give them a child. Ten years of failure and loss slammed into me hard enough to make me stagger.
Trembling, I ploughed through the women, their wings brushing mine, soft but abrasive and cutting my nerves to shreds.
"The fuck's wrong with her?" one of them muttered.
I hunched my shoulders, tucked in my wings, and marched on, scanning every corridor for the pink-skinned woman I'd traded for the jacket on my back. She wasn't in the dining hall, the library, the gym, or any of the training rooms.
I shook harder with every moment. Failures mounted with every second. Where was she? I needed my dagger. Ineededit.
"Hey, are you okay?" a man called when I rushed past him, probably because my breaths were loud and wheezing. I didn't bother to see who it was. "Slow down, a little."
"Can't," I bit out, shoving open the door to the kitchens and scanning the busy room. Not here.
