“The mark I accepted to save his life was the same mark that made me unfit to be his queen. Because it’s a mark that takes and takes and takes but gives nothing in return. Yet there is no power on Reath that would allow me to get rid of it, so instead, I resolved to change it. To make it serve me and protect me and make me strong, and it has delivered in abundance.”
Strong enough to protect herself. Strong enough to never be hurt by another. Lydia closed her eyes, entranced and terrified by the allure of the woman’s words.
A knock sounded on the door, and a moment later, one of the corrupted entered, the life around her blazing with unnatural fierceness. “My queen,” she said, bowing. “We’ve urgent need of your presence.”
“I’m occupied.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to Lydia, then she stepped closer to Rufina, murmuring something she couldn’t make out in the woman’s ear. But whatever it was, it caused Rufina’s eyes to widen in fury. “That little prick dares to steal from me?” she hissed. “I’m going to rip out his heart. You stay here and don’t let this one out of your sight.”
In a blur, Rufina raced from the room, leaving Lydia alone with the corrupted. “Agrippa get greedy?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Something like that.” The corrupted moved to lean against the wall. “And she won’t forgive him this time. Not now that she’s got something better.”
Killian.
Lydia’s eyes burned, because Rufina was going to use her against him. And she knew it would work. Knew that if the Queen of Derin did to her what she’d done to Malahi that he’d agree to whatever she demanded of him.
And maybe at first it would be little things. Things that cost him nothing to concede. But well she knew how small concessions led to bigger ones, and how long until Killian stood at the front of Rufina’s army as it marched across Mudamora?
It would destroy him.
Tears flooded down her cheeks, her chest so tight that she could barely breathe. Her plan had been to remain to rescue him, but because of that traitorous bastard Agrippa, she’d be damning Killian to something worse than death. And it had been for nothing. Malahi was still a prisoner, and given the terror she’d shown toward Rufina, how much longer would she hold out against the corrupted queen’s torture?
You have to get them out.
But how? The corrupted guard stood only a few paces away, watching her with interest.
Kill her.
The corrupted was stronger than she was. Faster than she was. Probably far more skilled at combat than she was. How could Lydia possibly get around her?
Even the odds, the voice whispered. You know how.
Her mind recoiled at the thought. But her heart lurched, recognizing hope where before there had been none.
You could make yourself strong enough to save him.
You came back from it before. You could do it again.
You wouldn’t be killing anyone who didn’t deserve it.
Lydia’s pulse throbbed in her throat, a desire that she’d buried deep rising like a dark tide, washing over her. Claiming her. Freeing her.
“Might I have some water?” she asked softly. Piteously. “I’m so very thirsty.”
The corrupted eyed her for a moment, then shrugged and went to a table off to the side holding glasses and a pitcher. She returned swiftly with a wineglass filled with crimson liquid. “Rufina’s not one for water.”
“Thank you.” Lydia waited for the corrupted to bend over her, holding out the wineglass.
Closer.
She closed her fingers over the glass and gave the woman a weak smile. Then Lydia jerked her hand up, smashing the glass into the woman’s face.
The corrupted shrieked, clawing at her eyes, but Lydia was on her in a heartbeat, twisting behind to clamp a hand over her mouth, her legs and other arm wrapped around the woman’s body. She could feel the excess of life spilling from the woman. Life stolen from what were probably innocent people.
But this creature was not innocent.
And neither was she.
Digging in her fingers, Lydia pulled.
109MARCUS
He urged the horse through the rear of the Valerius property, heading toward the back gate where the commandant was waiting.
You did the right thing, he silently told himself. To have kept things going would’ve been the worst thing you’ve ever done.
If only it felt that way.
But he couldn’t think about that now. Not when Cassius and Hostus had their sights set on killing him. Not when the Thirty-Seventh remained under Titus’s control. Not when the Maarin remained as prisoners of the Empire.
Wex stepped out of the shadows, and Marcus’s stomach clenched when he saw his father and sister were with him. Cordelia had a cloth pressed against her ribs and her face was pale.
“You shouldn’t be on your feet,” he said to her. “You need to see a physician.”
“It’s not so bad that it can’t wait. And you didn’t say good-bye.”
She stepped toward his horse, but feeling Wex’s eyes on him, Marcus drew the animal back. “Good-bye.”
Her jaw tightened, but she gave a nod before retreating into the garden.
Wex stepped forward, handing Marcus a piece of paper with Lescendor’s seal on it before stuffing supplies into the horse’s saddlebags. “My name should get you through any resistance you meet, though your own should do well enough.”
His father held up a heavy purse. “Gold, in case other measures fail.”
Marcus took it without answering, shoving it into his saddlebags.
“Cassius will anticipate that you’ll head to the Bardeen stem to return to your men in the Dark Shores.” Wex rocked on his heels. “He’ll have Hostus send men to Bardeen to stop you, and if they succeed, it’s over. They’ll claim to be returning you to Celendrial on some farce of a reason, but we both know they’ll leave you in a shallow grave. The same if they catch you along the way.”
“They won’t catch me.”
Wex was quiet for a heartbeat, then he said, “You won’t be able to
