Page 147 of The Edge of Darkness

Ramil’s pointed boots clicked against the stone floor as he slowly approached the chair and lowered himself into it. Nivelle’s ropes readjusted themselves, binding his wrists to the armrests.

I spoke to the masses this time. “Nearly two weeks ago, the High Lord of Benmoor welcomed us into his home for a celebration—much like this one, in fact.” I glanced up at Killian. “Shame that arrangement didn’t pan out.”

To my left, Morah smirked.

“He then proceeded to poison, capture, and incapacitate Auren and Aremis.”

I stalked closer to him and immediately noticed he appeared far more haggard than before. Like he’d aged a decade in the short amount of time it had been since we’d escaped his territory. He’d been drawing from the power of the Alatyr, which had kept him from aging further . . . until Auren took it from him in Benmoor. Without it, the effects were weighing on him tenfold.

“If it weren’t for my mate’s prior knowledge of the particular remedy for the poison, both of them might very well be dead.” I came to a stop at his side, lowering my voice to speak directly to him. “Do you deny these charges?”

His smug expression remained as he ignored my question and said, “You failed to mention that you were there with them. And if they were affected by my alleged crimes, wouldn’t you have been too? Or are you trying to hide your vulnerabilities from your court?”

I leaned down next to his ear. “I don’t give a damn what happened to me. I would let myself burn in the fiery pits of hell if it meant the ones I loved were safe. That is the difference between you and I.”

Ramil scoffed and turned his head away from me.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Haven’t I? Besides, you have no proof.” He spoke the last part loud enough for everyone to hear.

Auren stepped forward. “As a matter of fact, we do.” She reached into her pocket of space and pulled forth Benmoor’s Alatyr.

Murmurs stirred around the temple.

Ramil seethed at the sight of his stolen treasure. “That stone does not belong to you, half-breed!”

Auren laughed. “I could say the same to you. You stole this from your territory’s Elder, didn’t you? Just before you killed him. What was his name . . . Afsin?”

Ramil’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“I’m afraid you do not know the true depths of what these stones are capable of.” She dangled the amber stone in front of her face, eyeing it with particular fascination. “It just so happens that our Elder does. And she has graciously shared her knowledge.”

Ramil shifted uncomfortably against his restraints.

“The Alatyr,” Auren said, “is a time capsule of sorts. That was one of the first things I learned about it. And as such, it has properties that not only store information, but share it as well. It’s like reliving a memory, right before your eyes.” She turned back toward Ramil, a smile tugging at her lips.

Gods, I loved seeing her on the edge of enacting vengeance.

“Shall we take a look at your memories, Ramil? You wore the stone for quite some time. I’m sure it’s dripping with secrets.”

Up the stairs, Killian took a threatening step, but Silas slammed a fist against his chest, halting him.

“Maeson, if you would?” Auren passed the necklace to her, never breaking eye-contact with Ramil.

Maeson took the stone in both hands, and recited the words—a string of incantations of Old Magic that not even I understood. The candles throughout the temple dimmed until there was hardly any light at all, and the stone pulsed to life, emitting a warm, orange glow. Maeson held her arms out before her, and the Alatyr sent a beam of light into the air above her head. The beam spread horizontally until an image appeared, like a dream playing out before our eyes, hovering for all to see.

Within the projection, two figures emerged. The smaller one was elderly and hunched, while the other one stood tall, holding a curved dagger behind his back. It was as if we were viewing the memories from someone else’s point of view. Like the Alatyr had another form—one outside of its actual self.

Everyone in the temple watched as treason was committed before their eyes. As Ramil slit Afsin’s throat and left his withering body to be buried by the shifting sands.

Maeson spoke again, low and steady, commanding the stone to divulge the next stored memory that we needed.

The scene shifted, taking us to Benmoor’s throne room. There stood Auren, and Aremis, and me, about to walk into a trap that we should have seen from a mile away. Auren was gazing up at the smoke that swirled in the rafters as Ramil spit some of his lies and distractions. Then, panic lined her features. She tried to warn us, but the poison had already taken root. She stumbled into Aremis, while I went down onto my knees, struggling for air. Ramil came to my side, a smug smile dripping from his lips as he pushed me to the ground with the toe of his boot. He taunted me, then them, as they collapsed to the ground, grasping for each other, while the guards hauled my limp body out of view.

The audience in the temple erupted with rage, some of them stepping toward the platform, shouting and shaking their fists in the air. “Treason!” many yelled. Others shouted curses and called for Ramil’s death in the worst of ways.

I glanced at my mate. She hadn’t stopped staring at Ramil. She didn’t need to watch what had happened—she’d lived it. And that was enough. Her simmering anger radiated down the bond, telling me as much.