Page 161 of Dhampira

And now I had the key to unlocking Delphine.

“Come with me,” I told Vander, and he followed as I ran to the statue of a bearded centaur. For a second, worry plagued me. I’d never used sezat in truth, let alone tried to reverse it. But as I rested a hand on the centaur’s leg, power hummed under my skin, and a deep sense of knowing bubbled in my chest like spring water finding its way to the surface. “Rix,” I said, magic heating my palm.

The centaur’s coat turned from marble to a deep chocolate brown that matched his beard. He sucked in a breath as he clattered from his pedestal.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“You know who I am?” I asked, power crackling in my veins. Sezat was mine, but so were the witch’s memories, and they swirled thick and unwelcome in my head. Aggression swirled, too, along with hatred that seared my gut. Neither were mine, but I owned them now, and I couldn’t shed them if I wanted to keep the witch’s power. Claiming my root vor and shedding my mother’s ward hadn’t changed that.

The centaur nodded. “We see all from inside our stone prisons.” His blue eyes turned fierce. “You are not your father. I’ll fight for you.”

Relief rushed me, battering back some of the witch’s past. “I’m happy to have you,” I told the centaur. Then I ran to the next statue and repeated the process. I went down the line, reversing the petrifications as Vander guarded my back. Lorcan joined him, his borrowed sword flashing.

When I freed Delphine, she fell into my arms, her slender body trembling.

“Your Highness!” she gasped. “You saved my life.”

“You saved mine first,” I said in her ear. “Probably more than once.”

She looked at the gauntlets, her beautiful mouth twisting. “The king is a monster.”

“I know. I’m going to kill him.”

A group of werewolves charged from behind the next statue. Before Vander and Lorcan could meet them, I stepped forward and raised my voice. “You fight for the witches, but they will never respect you. The Greyskold Pack fights for me. Join them, and you’ll be treated as equals in Nocta.”

The werewolf in front shifted onto two legs. He dipped his gaze to my hands. “Why should we fight for a woman who can’t even free herself from steel?”

I lifted my chin. “I’m working on it.”

Another wolf shifted, and a woman with tight, firm breasts and long brown hair smirked at me. “Looks like your men are doing most of the work.”

“Uci!” Rasimir’s voice cried behind her. “Uci! Uci!” Werewolves fell, dead before they hit the ground.

My father had arrived.

33

Time slowed and my senses sharpened. My father’s voice carried on the air, his vors dropping one werewolf after another.

At the edge of the forest, Maddox and the rest of the Noctan army subdued more wolves. Kristoff and his pack continued to fight. Crimson cloaks swirled as the Drakhold’s knights slashed at their opponents. Witches flung out their hands, flashes of blue at their fingertips.

Lorcan looked at me, his mouth moving as he tried to tell me something. But his words were lost in the noise.

The sea of bodies parted, and Rasimir appeared. Our eyes locked, the entire courtyard between us. Knights with the crimson serpent on their chests fanned out behind him.

The werewolves in front of me turned, following the direction of my stare.

Rasimir stalked forward with glinting green eyes.

Green. The same shade I’d seen every time I looked in the mirror or a window or the still surface of a pond.

I moved forward and the werewolves melted away, letting me pass. Light danced around my head. The hobflies had followed me outside.

Vander and Lorcan moved with me, shoving knights and werewolves from my path. Then Lorcan gripped my arm and put his face in mine.

“Drink me,” he shouted, raising his voice over the noise.

I recoiled. “No, I—”