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 mess? 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
