didn’t stop. The first button popped open and I moved to the second.
I had to use my power. It was the only thing left to me. Risking a physical fight to subdue this guy would be messy and loud—not that it mattered, since he had me enthralled, but even if I could fight him I knew it’d be a mistake. I couldn’t risk bringing the guards. My power, however, was another story. Sachâth or not, I didn’t see much of a choice, and I desperately wanted to stop doing what I was doing and kick this guy’s ass into next week.
Having Death pay me a little visit would be worth it.
I was pretty sure the siren standing over me was the one who had made eye contact at the banquet, and the fact that he was here alone suggested that he hadn’t told anyone else of his discovery. Yet. Guess he wanted that glory all to himself. His mistake.
His buttons were undone. My hand dipped inside and curled around him. He was hard and warm, despite his aversion to me. The compulsion was there, urging my body to take him into my mouth.
I shook, trying with everything I had to stop. My heartbeat was frantic. I was sweating with the effort to stop, and every nerve was lit with energy.
No. This was not going to happen.
I withdrew inside of myself, concentrating on how my nerves felt, how the energy seemed to lick and snap like the flames of a raging fire. I imagined the floodgates opening and letting the powers I possessed pour into my center, the powers of both the Charbydon nobles and the Elysian Adonai. Unlike before when these powers warred with each other, they now mingled and combined, fuel to my fire—my evolution at work, and something that drove me that much closer to being divine.
As the power built and filled me, it pushed the will of the siren from my body like it was nothing. I was back in control. And the siren was about to be in a world of hurt.
I squeezed hard, twisted, and stood up, spinning both of us around and shoving him into the wall as he had done to me. One hand choking him, the other squeezing the life out of his penis. My amulet dropped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
The energy inside of me hummed so loud and consuming and angry I was lost in it, swept away. The symbols on my right arm began to glow. Vaguely I felt the siren struggling, heard him trying to speak, but he was immobile, unable to release any of his power against me. I was holding him and his power back.
The siren’s blue gaze locked with mine and spoke of hatred and death. He said something, his lips moving, but I didn’t hear a thing. The glowing symbols on my arm intensified and the same burn I’d felt holding Ahkneri’s divine sword blazed down my arm, though this time it didn’t hurt. But I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to burn for what he’d tried to do to me. That was all that mattered.
Something changed in his expression. Fear replaced the hatred in his eyes. He struggled and kicked and pulled at my hand around his throat. I squeezed harder, with both hands, wanting to finish this. To make him go away.
His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
And he burned up, from his dick, to his groin, to his torso; he simply burned up like paper being eaten away by blue fire.
I stumbled back, wide-eyed and panting. The symbols on my arm and hand slowly dimmed and a familiar hot ache took over.
There was nothing left but ashes on the floor. Nothing left. I didn’t know how long I stood there gaping at what should’ve been impossible, and trying to come to terms with what I’d done, what had come out of me.
Just like Llyran. Just like the sword that had cut him in two and burned him as it went. My eyes were dry and hot, stinging with unshed tears.
I was picked up and thrown across the room, landing out on the balcony on my back, the breath knocked out of me. Stars twinkled in the dark sky and the half-moon was large and bright. The smell and sound of the sea . . . it was . . . peaceful. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it as tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.
In my shock, I’d forgotten Sachâth would come.
A dark cloud blocked out the night sky, swirling above me, condensing into a vague shape—head, shoulders, arms that became wispy and translucent as the thing moved. But in the very heart of it was the same horrifying black void I remembered. The shape moved closer.
I was empty and spent; all the power surrounding us was Sachâth, not me, and it was heavier and denser than anything I’d felt before. It made me sick to my stomach. Tendrils of the gray, swirling matter floated toward me, over me, around me, snaking around my body as though hugging me, lifting me up, and pulling me into the black void.
And then the voice. Ancient and deep, imbued with such power that my teeth clattered together with every syllable. The words I didn’t understand, despite Lightwater’s syndialexi spell, but the frustrated restraint in them was unmistakable.
Then, it released me. I was weightless for three seconds before my back hit the stone floor of the balcony again. Stars dotted my vision and I faded into darkness.
11
I regained consciousness sometime before dawn. The cool air had worked its way into my bones, and my muscles were tight and trembling, trying to create some heat within my body. My skull and shoulder blades ached, and my arm burned. Overhead, the stars were giving way to a purple sky.
Christ, I hurt.
Carefully, I rolled onto one side and pulled my knees to my chest, giving myself time to adjust, time to think and come to terms with what I’d done.
I didn’t enjoy ending someone’s existence, didn’t enjoy the kill, and didn’t seek it out unless it was absolutely necessary. At heart, my goal was to protect. If that meant engaging a foe, defending others, or stopping a murderous creature, then I would. I loved a good fight, sure. I loved feeling like I made a difference, and knowing that I helped people who couldn’t make a stand. But there was no thrill in what I’d done.
I’d defended myself. In moments like those when shit is coming at you faster than you can process, you do what you have to do to survive. I acted on instinct, which wasn’t anything new—my response had been the normal Charlie MO. It was the
Eventually, I got up and shuffled stiffly into the bedroom where I cleaned up the ashes of the siren and then dumped them over the balcony into the sideways breeze.
I needed to get out of the palace and away from the reminders of last night, so I dressed slowly and then attempted the maze of hallways beyond my room until I found myself outside. The guards gave me a nod of recognition, which I returned before proceeding down the steps toward the sea, not stopping until I came to the market.
I bought a small loaf of warm spiced bread and took it past the dock to the beach, where I walked for a while, taking in the fresh air, the views, and the sunlight. I climbed the path to the cliffs beneath one of the towers and found a good spot to eat.
I needed this . . . peace, this solitary time, and the mindless distraction of the sea as it splashed against the tall, jagged rocks below me. I watched the birds dive from the cliffs and into the sea for breakfast. I watched the sky change colors. And eventually all those things helped clean away the darkness inside me.
My gaze turned to the tower across the bay. The obelisk’s pointed top caught the first rays of the sun and sparked bright enough to make me shield my eyes. And then I saw it; the rings of power that made the wall of Fiallan impenetrable. Just a glimpse, like a shimmering mirage and then . . . gone.
I drew my knees in, wrapping my good arm around them, and rested my chin on top. No matter what had happened last night, my goal hadn’t changed. The siren had come in secret, of that I was sure. But his disappearance would be noted at some point. They’d start searching, they’d be alert, and eventually they’d make their way to us. The outsiders. But we’d be inside the inner sanctum long before that happened. I hoped.
