“Of course not!” I bellow, my knees buckling and my pulse growing faint. “I know we’ve been lucky so far. But how do I force a vision?” I’ve been asking myself this all day long, and I’m still no closer to an answer than I was when I started. I snarl my fingers into my hair as a frustrated plea escapes my lips. “How do I control something this unreliable?”
“I’ve been asking the same question of Suryc about my Asíle abilities. So, if you’ve come up with an answer, I’d love to hear it,” Cyrus mumbles as he staggers into view. His shirt is damp with sweat, and I see a bone-weary dullness in his glazed eyes. With the slightest breeze, I think Cyrus will topple into the sand and sleep for a week straight. Cyrus stares at me, and I practically feel his gaze raking over my skin. His mouth pinches together as if he’s just bitten something sour, and he plops down beside my Ddraig, feet dangling off the outcropping.
My spine stiffens at his presence; the last thing I want is an audience for my repeated failures. I pick up a stone, planning to hurl it at Cyrus’s leg. Instead, I feel it tumble through my fingers, and I wince as the sharp edges rake across my bare feet before it thuds back into the dirt. Staring down at my toes, I watch my blood well up from the scratches. The sight carries my mind deep into a vision, my body dropping backward to the ground.
Blood. Everywhere I look, I see it. Coating the floors, covering the walls, and staining my skin. I stagger, searching my body for signs of the injury. A hacking cough fills the air from beside me. Turning my head, I see Cyrus, his throat split open from ear to ear. His body still heaves, unaware that his soul is already claimed by Death. I can tell by the way his eyes have faded, their dilated pupils fixed on me, that he is gone.
A sob rips from my throat, and my heart shatters as I claw my way closer to his side. I hear my voice wailing, the depths of my grief making my words unintelligible.
Even though I continue to drag myself across the floor, my feet feel as though they are weighted by lead. Looking down, I see that there is a long, heavy chain securing me in place. Scanning the room, I search for signs of Wolf. Deep down, I know this must be his doing. “Where are you?” I whisper, struggling to keep my voice from cracking.
“I never understood how you could choose him.” Wolf’s voice is as cold as iron as he steps out of an alcove on the left side of the room. “In all the time we spent separated, I thought about you. I obsessed about you; I literally went mad over you. What were you doing? Were you alive? Had you finally come to your senses? Were you searching for me? I pined for you, Iris.”
“I know,” I wheeze, my stomach lurching as Cyrus’s body heaves its last sigh. All sound in the room seems to pause, the absence of his breathing louder than any scream. A part of my heart turns cold. Looking down on my hands, I see my Dadeni lines flickering on my arms, their white purity tangled by small, coal-black etchings. Cyrus and I have bonded; we are coupled. I’ve just lost my mate. The words ring in my mind, emptiness roaring into the silence that follows the thought. My love, gone.
“Then, after everything went to hell, I find you in his arms,” Wolf continues as though he has not noticed his brother’s death, brandishing a long, spiked whip in my direction. He grips the leather so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I gave you everything you ever wanted, Iris. Didn’t I?”
“It was never about you and me,” I whisper, tears shivering down my cheeks. I cannot tear my eyes away from Cyrus’s soulless body. The gash on his throat mocks me with its gruesome smile—“Just like the one you gave my father,” it seems to say. “You know my decisions were about—”
“Those stupid Ddraigs!” Wolf interrupts with a snarl, his voice echoing off the walls like a howl. “Well, I’ve dealt with that problem too, haven’t I?” Wolf flourishes the whip with an audible snap, his mouth curling into a smile. “You’ll find that I am far better at keeping my word than you. I told you I would take out the Ddraigs. She put up a fight, Iris. You’d have been proud!”
My stomach falls as my last shreds of sanity begin to crumble. I feel my mind breaking a minute before he confirms my fear. “Siri’s dead?” But I don’t hear Cane’s response. Instead, a dull roar engulfs my ears. Every sight before me becomes coated with a thin film of translucent blood, and a pressure builds so powerfully in my eyes that I fear they will pop out of their sockets. “No, NO! You rat bast—”
Then the voices begin. Siri’s memories burst forth like an undammed spring. They fill me so
