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“Then I can’t say I’m sorry someone took her out,” I gritted out as his hand tightened on my jaw. “Karma is a bitch,” I spat, “just like her.”
And then I let go.
I released the anger. The betrayal. The vitriol burning in my lungs. Power slammed out of me and into him. I ripped free as he hissed in my ear, whirled, and found stony brown eyes pinning me in place.
His arm hooked around my waist as he stepped into my space and forced me against the wall beside the ballroom entrance.
Towering over me, cruel smile on his lips, light dancing in his eyes, Adrastos purred, “It’s always the innocent ones who are the most depraved at heart.” His free hand settled in my hair, cupping the back of my head, thumb stroking my jaw. “There’s a reason I never underestimate a woman scorned.”
“I hate you,” I spat, satisfied when he flinched. He didn’t retreat. Just wiped at his face before planting that hand on the other side of my head, caging me in.
“You should,” he said, full lips tipping up. “But you don’t. Now get out of here—get to the children.”
I blinked as his thumb swept my jaw, my focus split between a touch that should’ve repulsed me and the nonsense he’d just said. His eyes dropped to my mouth before lazily lifting to mine as if the world weren’t dissolving around us. As if the corridor didn’t echo with screams.
Screams I’d caused. No… these were different now, threaded with bellows, groans, the clash of steel. Combat?
A pang of dread hit as he released me and straightened, scanning the space for… something.
“You’re not the only hostage who aimed to wreak chaos today,” he purred, eyes sweeping the crowd. “Fascinating, how the shortsightedness of emotion will render you both inept.”
As if answering him, the panic shifted. Energy changed. A cheer went up—a cheer that lit my blood. “Death to the heretics!”
Then he was cupping my face, eyes wide and frantic as they searched mine. “Now, Blythe! Get to Cora before they do.”
Eyes round, I searched his as the violence broke out behind the wall.
“She, Cáit, and Barry are the last of the Hadriana line. Get her to safety. She’s the last heiress.”
Understanding hit like a hangover from hell. Any trace of victory vanished with it.
And then we were running.
Me toward the infirmary. Adrastos into the fray.
No one stopped me as I sprinted down the hall. No one stopped me as I shoved through the fleeing crowd and hit the stairs two at a time. No one stopped me as I tore past a sudden outbreak of infighting.
The bloodline… was dividing?
No. The ancient feud had never died. It had only been buried beneath centuries of terror and oppression.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was the fist I took to the face skirting the edge of a brutal fight. The pale hands that caught and righted me before shoving me clear. The teal eyes that hardened when they landed on mine.
What mattered was Cora’s scream.
For the first time, I envied Mags. Her shadows. Her ability to move through the darkness surrounding us.
Because I was too slow. I shot through the infirmary threshold as I rounded the corner—but too late. My gaze found Fletcher immediately, teeth bared, dagger raised, blood streaking his brow, and then I was moving—
Moving toward the monster in the demon mask with his back to me, because Cora screamed where he held her on her knees by the hair. A foot to her left, Mhairi bled out on the floor, eyes glassy and unseeing.
I didn’t think. I reached into the deepest part of my gifts, found his heart—his mind—
And pulled taut. Just like Aren said to.
He folded as his heart stopped, blood seeping from his mouth. A shocked whimper slipped between my lips as I stared at my hands.
It wasn’t exactly something we could practice.
