by Bec McMaster
Mother thinks Lysander is uncontrollable. It’s a gift with a bite, for if we can’t control him then…. What? Thiago won’t kill him—he can’t be killed—and Thiago doesn’t turn his back on his loyal subjects.
Baylor pauses an inch from his brother. There’s no anguish upon his face, but I feel it within him. “Xander.”
He reaches out and touches the beast. Lysander towers above him, thick matted fur clinging to his body.
“How did you recapture him?” I ask.
Andraste tears her gaze from Lysander. “I thought he was dead. The last I saw him he was buried in the woods near Briar Keep, until rumors came of a beast stalking the northern forests—”
“Andraste.” Edain places a hand over hers.
Clydain. Lysander was going back to Clydain.
Even broken and curse-twisted, he was trying to fulfill his final quest.
“Xander.” Baylor takes another step, his palm soothing his brother’s fur.
He’s not looking at him.
No, he’s looking at me.
The humanity in the beast’s eyes vanishes as amber fury rolls across them. A quiver starts in its shoulders. “Prinshess,” it whispers, and its hackles rise.
“Get these fucking chains off him,” Baylor demands.
Edain tenses. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“The problem, whore,” Baylor says, as he tears one of the chains from his brother’s throat. “Is that you think he will fight us. This is my brother. And he is loyal to Evernight.”
“Vi,” Andraste warns with a little shake of her head.
Baylor smiles for the first time I think I’ve ever seen. And his hand grips another chain. “Don’t worry, Princess. His teeth aren’t that sharp. If you have treated him well, then you have nothing to worry about should we unleash him.”
Another chain breaks.
Andraste’s gaze flickers to me.
And then I realize her finger is tracing a pattern on the arm of her chair, over and over again. A symbol of a language the pair of us created when we were seven, so we could speak without any of Mother’s court chastising us.
I haven’t seen that symbol in many years, so it takes a second to realize what she’s—
“Run,” it says.
Grabbing a fistful of his brother’s hair, Baylor turns the bane’s face toward his, completely unafraid. “Hear the whisper through the trees,” he breathes, as his hand curls around the last remaining chain. “Feel the moonlight on your skin. Listen to the thump of her heart.” Both of their golden eyes turn to lock upon Andraste. “You can almost taste it, can’t you?”
“I don’t think we should break his chains,” I whisper, taking a step back as muscles bunch within the beast’s form.
“Don’t worry about your sister,” Baylor assures me with a nasty smile. “It’s not as though my brother will hold a grudge. It’s not as though she tried to kill him.”
And the chain snaps.
But it’s not Andraste the beast lunges for.
It’s me.
Chapter Four
“Traitor!” The bane snarls as it smashes Baylor off his feet.
Thiago is slightly quicker to react, his hand dropping to his sword, but I see a second of conflict on his face—what is he doing?—before Lysander crashes into him.
“Vi!” Thiago yells, staggering backward.
Run.
I take Andraste’s advice.
Shoving past her guards, I slash a hole in the back of the tent with the knife I carry up my sleeve and then glance behind me.
Lysander swipes at one of her guards, his claws raking off scaled armor. He sees me again and bellows with rage, before her guards go flying.
“Vi!”
I dart into the morning light as another enraged snarl echoes behind me. Cloth tears and fae yell as the tent abruptly begins to collapse. Lysander tears his way straight through the silk.
Curse it.
There’s nowhere to go except into the forest.
The dark, creepy forest that has eaten its way through the Ruthvien ruins.
Tough decision. Bane behind me. Unknown danger ahead. And no time to think my way through this mess.
“Vi?” It’s a whisper in my head, a tickling against my skin as I sprint toward the trees.
“Thiago?”
“Let me in.”
I open myself to him and there he is, burning like a supernova in the back of my mind. It’s rare that the fae allow others to meld with them mind-to-mind, because it leaves you open and vulnerable, but I know he’d never hurt me.
That doesn’t mean we’ve connected like this on more than a superficial layer.
He won’t let me all the way inside, and I’ve got my own secrets to hide.
Though I can guess at what’s he’s shielding me from.
Something dangerous lingers beneath the subconscious layers of his mind. Something that looks at me hungrily, trailing dark psychic fingers across my mind as if it wants to devour me. It’s an odd sensation. Yearning. Need. Desire. But a threat lurks there too.
The Darkness within him.
I’m panting so fiercely I barely have time to snatch more than a glimpse at it.
“Vi?” He snares my attention, forcing it back on him. “Head into the forest.”
“Are you trying to get me killed?”
“I’m conjuring an illusion of you. If you can lose him, then I can make it look like you’re running into the forest depths.”
I chance a glance over my shoulder. “Losing him might be a problem.”
There’s no chance I can outrun Lysander. He’s built for speed, slaver dripping from his jaws as he focuses on my heels.
“Use your magic.”
Magic. Right.
We’ve been working on my levels of control ever since the Queensmoot, but I don’t like my chance of summoning anything complex. “Fire it is, then.”
“Don’t burn the forest down.”
Even from this distance I can sense the wryness of the thought.
“Jester,” I mutter out loud.
Fire’s my natural gift from my mother’s bloodline. Asturians are heat and summer and roaring wildfires that engulf enormous forests.
I lash out behind me with a controlled whip of flame, ignoring the howl of surprised pain. Lysander will heal. I won’t if he gets his claws into me.
A branch hangs low. Two strides and I’m up in it, hauling my body behind me.
Teeth clash at my boots, almost catching my heel.
Close. Too close. “Anytime you want to work your illusions!”
“Climb higher.”
Darkness punches into being, drowning us both in shadow like a squid squirting ink into the water around it. Lysander roars and the branch beneath me shakes as he swipes at it.
Biting down on a squeal I crawl along the branch. The writhing mess of shadow covers the forest floor, but I can just see.
“Stay still and quiet,” Thiago orders.
I become one with the forest. One breath eased in and out like I’m balancing a plate on my head. Two.
Something loud crashes through the undergrowth. Lysander stills and then he launches after it, leaving a wake of trembling bushes.
I didn’t know he could do that—craft illusions with enough weight to them to disturb the world around them. “Thank you.”
Demi-fey hiss at me as I climb higher, unnaturally bold for such small creatures.
“Stay there. I’ve sent Baylor and Finn after you.”
“What are you doing?”
There’s a silent pause. “Nothing.”
“Thiago.”
“Can you see them? Finn will take you back to the Hallow. Baylor’s going after his brother.”
“No. I want answers.”
“Vi—”
“Andraste warned me to run. She knows what they did to him. And she knew he was going to attack me.”
“Good luck getting answers out of her,” he growls. “
She’s refusing to say a word to me.”
I freeze, gripping the tree branch as Baylor crashes through the forest below me. “Just what are you doing right now?”
A whirl of disorientation and then I’m looking out through his eyes and down into my sister’s stubborn face, one hand curled around her throat and the other pressing the tip of a knife to her carotid.
“Negotiating,” he says.
The tent is a writhe of mayhem when we return.
I sent Baylor after Lysander, and found a pair of Evernight guards awaiting me at the edge of the forest with Finn.
And while Finn wanted to obey Thiago’s orders, I told him he could either carry me kicking and screaming toward the Hallow, or he could accompany me back to the tent.
Andraste’s voice rings out. “Get your hands off me—”
“Relax, Princess,” replies my husband. “None of us wants to put their hands on you. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll set you free. Or better yet, why don’t we ask the pet? He seems to know more about what your mother intends than you do.”
Edain laughs. “The queen intends to wait you out. You can’t last too much longer, can you? It’s already itching through you—”
I try to pause, to listen, but it’s too late.
Thiago looks up and sees me standing there in the entrance to the tent. He shoots Finn a murderous look.
Finn holds his hands in the air. “This wasn’t my idea.”
“No, it was mine,” I growl. “What is going on? What is Mother waiting for?”
Edain stands at bay behind the tip of a drawn sword. Eris must have caught him by surprise, because there’s no sign of his knife. “Secrets, Princess. All these delicious secrets. There you stand with all your sanctimonious pride, taunting me with freedom, and yet your husband hasn’t told you the truth. How much freedom do you truly have, Princess?”
Thiago straightens, lowering the blade from Andraste’s throat. “Vi—”
“Did you think the cursebinder was meant for you, Iskvien?” Edain pushes the tip of Eris’s sword away from his throat.
The link between us is still there. “What is he talking about?”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“Really? Because it sounds as though you didn’t intend to discuss it at all.”
Thiago’s lips press thinly together. “He’s trying to drive a wedge between us.”
A howl suddenly echoes in the distance.
Curse it. We have larger problems.
“Later,” I promise him, and then break the connection. “Let him go,” I tell Eris, as I focus on Edain. “I spent thirteen years being betrayed by my own family. If you think I trust you more than I trust my husband, then it’s a good thing you’re pretty, because you clearly lack intelligence.” I rub my temples. “And speaking of lack of intelligence, this was a brilliant plan. We’re all stuck here in the ruins with a rabid bane on the loose.”
Edain sinks onto the throne, relaxing back in it. “As long as I can run faster than you can, I don’t see the problem.”
“What did you do to Lysander?”
“I think it’s more a question of what did you do to him?” Edain replies.
What does that mean?
“That’s enough,” Andraste tells him, wiping the blood from her neck and sidling away from Thiago.
The tent flaps burst open and suddenly everyone has a sword in their hand again. One of our guards points a crossbow at Andraste, and an Asturian guard returns the gesture, only he’s not certain whether to focus on Thiago or me.
Just what we need. Nervous guards on both sides with half-cocked weapons.
Baylor stares breathlessly at us, the breeze blowing his pale hair over his shoulders. “I lost him. He was circling back to the tents. He’s got your scent, Vi, and he’s coming for you.”
“Why the obsession with me?”
“Ask your sister.” Thiago shoots her a hard stare.
“Maybe he’s not the only Evernight who lost his head over Vi’s smile.”
That does it. Three strides and I’ve got her within arm’s reach.
“What did you do to him?” I demand, both fists knotting in her dress.
“He’s been in the oubliette,” she replies, grabbing my wrists. “You’ve been taunting him for weeks.”
Me.
Or a spell-twisted version of me.
Mother could do it. She has enough of my things, and though I was always careful to burn the hair that collected in my brush or the nails I clipped from my fingers, who knows what she took while I was drugged and unconscious?
It wasn’t enough to steal my fucking memories, now Mother’s trying to steal everything away from me.
“I think it was more than taunting,” Thiago says.
Andraste sighs, the fight leaving her. “Mother had him killed. Every day. And when he would rise, Vi would be standing over him, taunting him with her treachery. Telling him she’s been mother’s tool since the start, planting the seeds of ruin within your court. And then she would kill him again.”
With every death, he’ll lose a little part of himself.
But the things he’ll hold onto…. His protectiveness. His loyalty. His base nature will tell him to protect my husband at all costs, even as he loses the scraps of himself that remember me.
The sheer cruelty of it is stunning.
Guards scream outside. Lysander won’t stop until he finds me, and I know what that means. We either have to kill or contain him, and in this state, containment might be difficult.
“How do we set a trap for him?” I direct the question at Eris and Baylor.
Baylor glances around. “If I can get the chains on him—”
“We need bait.” Eris doesn’t shy away from my gaze as she says it.
“No,” Thiago says coldly. “We’re not using her as bait.”
“It doesn’t have to be me. Can you make me look like her?” I ask, pointing my finger at Andraste. Think beyond your protective masculine instincts. “And make her smell like me?”
“Vi!” Andraste stiffens.
“You chose to bind yourself to an evil, self-serving bitch. It’s not my problem if her plots bite you on the ass.” I return my attention to Thiago. “It will be the scent that gives us away.”
He slowly nods. “I can do it. Maybe.”
Resistance comes from an unexpected quarter. Edain grabs me from behind, hauling me against his chest and putting his knife to my throat. “Twitch a single finger, little princeling, and I’ll cut her throat.”
Ice slithers down my spine. I don’t dare breathe. The knife is sharp enough.
A preternatural stillness leeches through Thiago, and his eyes go flat and dark. Dangerous. “I don’t have to twitch a finger.”
Silence.
Nobody moves.
Outside, an enraged bellow splits the air.
“You’re revealing your hand, Edain,” I whisper. “What’s Mother going to think?”
“Be quiet,” he snaps.
“You’ve been so terribly protective,” I taunt. “Mother will know. She’ll find out, one way or the other, and then what do you think she’ll do?”
Tension slides through him. “I swear I used to like you better when you were memory-wiped.”
It all happens in an instant.
Lysander bursts into the tent, throwing a guard into Eris. She staggers back, thrusting him out of the way, but it’s too late. Claws lash out, and she has to dive aside or lose half her face.
“Stay still, Vi,” Thiago commands.
A warm wave envelops me, sliding over my skin from my head to my toes. An intimate little tingle that leaves me breathless.
“What the—?” Andraste gasps and looks down at herself as her hair darkens and tumbles around her shoulders in a messy tangle, smooth leather encasing her shoulders and chest, and then sweeping down over her legs. Her rings vanish. Her skin darkens. And then I’m staring at myself.
Do I really look like such a mes
s? Today has not been kind.
Lysander skids to a stop, his furious yellow gaze locking on her.
“Her or me, Edain,” I tell my captor. “You’ll only get one chance to save her.”
And I’m betting all my coin—or my life—on a certain little hunch I’ve had for a while.
“Fuck.” Edain throws me aside and dives in front of Andraste as Lysander launches forward.
He took a raging bane for her. Every suspicion I ever had about my stepbrother’s secret fondness for my sister is revealed.
That inky burst of shadow is back, punching into life around the three of them as they collapse in a yelling heap.
“Vi!” Thiago holds out a hand toward me.
I leap onto the overturned throne, but the movement must give me away. Or maybe it’s Andraste’s voice as she screams curses from within the shadow.
Because Lysander shakes his way free of the shadows, his head whipping around him in a rage. And then he stares at me as though he can see right through the illusion.
“Now!” Eris jumps on top of him, trying to tackle his sheer bulk to the ground.
Finn snaps a golden chain onto the collar he wears.
And it might have worked, if he wasn’t so big and strong.
He tows them toward me, shaking Eris free.
Baylor steps forward, driving his sword straight through Lysander’s chest as his brother hurls himself at me. The bane collides with him, and while the enormous warrior staggers back several steps, he doesn’t yield.
“Forgive me,” Baylor whispers, as Lysander roars with pain.
He twists the sword, skewering his brother’s heart.
And they both go to their knees as I stagger into the safety of Thiago’s arms.
Chapter Five
I manage to hold it all inside me on our trip through the Hallow, and it’s not until we’re standing safely in the tower at Ceres and the guards have filed out that I turn to my husband.
“You can’t last too much longer?” My voice is so steady I’m almost proud of it.
Thiago tears off his gloves as the Hallow powers down. “Really? We’re going to do this here?”
“Where would you prefer?”
He gives me a look that scorches me all the way from my ears to my toes. “In our chambers.”