I yank the bolt out of my upper thigh, hissing at her through my teeth. “You think that little prick is going to bring me down?”
“No.” She launches herself at me, the silk of her dress flying. “But this will.”
She throws a handful of powder in my face, and my body reacts before I can think it through. I inhale sharply, even as I try to roll out of the cloud of drug.
Because that’s what it is.
The first acrid taste of the drug coats my tongue. Metallic. Metallic, shit. Snake root. I need to get out of here, get to Keir—
I try to Sift, but the shadows bleed away from me even as my knees hit the marble floor. The entire room is spinning. I knew it worked within seconds, but I didn’t realize it was this potent.
“Ismena.” Her face comes into focus as I sway. “Don’t. I saved… your life.”
“And then you threw me to the wolves,” she says, tears streaming down her face as she withdraws something bright and shiny from her pocket.
Light erupts within the room, searing my eyes.
I try to shield them, but it only throws me off-balance, and I slam to the cold tiles. Ismena grabs my hand, locking that burning, searing band of light around my wrist.
“A little gift from the Court of Dawn,” she says. “No more shadows for you.”
Pure light.
Rhea.
I try to scream as she snaps both ends into place. Burning, burning, right through to my bones…. A hand clamps over my mouth, and then my eyes roll back in my head as I taste one last mouthful of snake root.
The last thing I hear is a dragon bellowing before Ismena jerks a turnkey portal from her pocket.
I swear I imagine it—did he somehow sense I was gone?—but then she throws her arms around me and activates the portal.
The world sucks me into a pinprick point.
And then it vanishes.
30
Don’t show a single hint of weakness.
I stalk through the hallways of the Court of Shadows, every nerve in my body screaming at me as dozens of wraiths flock to see me make the long, silent walk toward the throne room. My whole body hurts after I came to in the dungeons nearly two days ago, but it’s the burning brand biting into the skin around my wrist that sets my teeth on edge.
And the presence of my captor.
I underestimated Ismena.
Or maybe I underestimated just how far Ruhle would go.
He prowls just behind me, his leather cloak flaring like bat like wings. “Not quite as mouthy now, little wraith,” he taunts.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I try to ignore the burning manacles around my wrists. I tried to Sift out of the dungeon, but the light merely burned right through me, leaving me shaking and gasping on the floor. I can’t Sift right now, but I’ll get free. Somehow. Falion manipulated the light. That has to mean I might be able to do it too. And I’m too valuable to my father for him to break me and toss me to the scrap heap….
It doesn’t still the nervous twisting in my stomach.
He doesn’t need me whole, after all, and there are many tortures I can survive.
Ruhle reaches for my arm as we reach the throne room doors, and I yank free with a hiss. “Keep your hands off me.”
He gives a menacing laugh. “I’m enjoying every second of this.” His eyes flash with dark fire. “I’ll make you beg for mercy before this is done, Zemira. You killed my brothers. I’m going to cut their deaths out of your hide.”
I lean close enough to see the glint of rage in his eyes. “I don’t think he’ll let you. You might play at being the wolf here at court, but the truth remains: You’re just one of Father’s hounds like the rest of us.”
There’s no point struggling or trying to run. Facing Father is inevitable—it’s merely a matter of whether I do it on my own two feet or not.
So I don’t give him the satisfaction of having the last word. Instead, I turn and stride toward the doors as if they’ll part before me. The guards jerk them open just in time, and my breath catches as I catch a glimpse of the enormous throne in front of me.
An eerie figure waits in silence.
Torchlight flickers behind the king—a ploy I know is intended to make him appear more foreboding—but despite that knowledge, I can’t help feeling the weight of his gaze upon me.
“Father.” I go to one knee before the dais, my fingers curled into fists and my heart thundering in my chest.
I failed.
The horn is gone. I don’t even know who took it.
And there is only one answer for failure.
Boots crunch across the cold slate tiles. I steel myself, teeth clenched against the blow—
Instead, a hand slides through my hair. “You have done well, child.”
What? My head jerks up, but I’m not imagining the smirk on the king’s lips.
“You succeeded beyond my wildest imaginings,” he purrs, capturing my chin in a brutal grip. “And played your part to perfection.”
I don’t know why, but my stomach drops through my heels. Never trust his smile. “What do you mean? I failed,” I whisper. “I had the horn in my hands, and I lost it.”
“We no longer need the horn.” He reaches within his cloak and produces a letter. “I found this on my throne this morning.”
And with that, he tosses it at my feet, looking strangely ecstatic over the fact someone clearly slipped past his personal security.
I flip the envelope open with my thumbnail. The envelope was sealed with red wax, and my heart starts to flutter when I see the impression of the broken seal. A dragon rampant.
Keir’s mark.
And his words, direct and to the point.
You have something I want.
I have something you
