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“What the fuck,” I said hoarsely.

Elowyn’s eyes found mine. There was intelligence there, yes, but fear, too—yet, behind it a brittle resolve. I’d taken her Magical Foundations class. Professor Wispwood always seemed like a woman who was confident in her abilities within the classroom but far more deferential once she left it. Still, she’d never given a hint of being the kind of person who craved power in the way Viktor did. But then, she was half-blightborn. Halfborns had even less privilege than the average blightborn did. I tried to imagine what it must be like to be born so powerless. Maybe it was a little like what I’d been feeling these last few weeks, trapped and alone in my cell.

“Hello again, Regan,” Professor Wispwood said quietly. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

I laughed, then turned to Viktor. “I thought you’d never sired children. I thought that was why you wanted me.”

He smiled thinly. “I rarely recognize my offspring openly. None have ever been completely satisfactory. Elowyn is halfborn, yes. Her blood is tainted and low. Yet she survived birth despite her mother’s base bloodline. And she was bold enough to volunteer to assist me. She seeks to prove herself.”

Viktor gestured for Elowyn to lie down on one of the other two tables. “You will serve as the vessel for Elowyn’s soul. Through you, her influence—and thus my influence—will extend outward and into the wolf. Elowyn will be his mate in your place.”

A chill slid down my spine. “That bitch is not stealing my body. It’s a fucked-up plan, and it will never work. Even if you were right about Kage being my mate—which you aren’t—he isn’t blind. He won’t accept any of this.”

“He will have no choice. He has already been blinded. He bound his blood to yours. I assume he did so without even understanding what he had done. Do you realize how powerful the act was?” Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “Or how deep his treachery? You were my consort.”

I shivered. The only good part of this was that somehow Viktor didn’t seem to be my archon anymore.

“You were both stupid fools, blind to your folly. But your pathetic accident has proven a boon. Now, through you, I will hold court over all the Avari. Oh, how I will soften their fangs.”

I swallowed. I didn’t think this was going to work. What made Viktor think my supposed bond with Kage would even survive Elowyn’s soul being transferred into my body? No, the most likely outcome was that I’d die. Elowyn probably would, too. But Florence didn’t have to.

I swallowed. “Fine, use me. But let Florence Shen go. If you do that, I’ll cooperate. I won’t fight you.”

Viktor turned to Florence, looking down at her body with a hunger that went far beyond mere lust. “I think not. Miss Shen is far too useful to waste on your mercy. Did you hear nothing I said? She is a door I will walk through.”

I stared at him, horrified. “Do you mean—?”

He gave a dry laugh. “I shall not leave my own body. No, I have not endured for centuries nor paid in blood and suffering just to trade my hard-won form for a lowly blightborn girl’s.” He glanced at Florence again, his expression appraising. “She will be a conduit. A living conduit. I will bind my soul to hers. She will speak. But it will be my voice that selects the words. She will go where I wish, do as I wish. Through her, I will have the dragon leashed.” He tilted his head. “Do you understand the elegance of it, Regan? I will gain a Duskdrake as easily as if I had hatched him myself.”

I swallowed. “But your body is damaged. Your dragon—”

“Yes, you and the Avari made sure to see to that, didn’t you?” he snapped, suddenly furious again. He looked down at his hands where black veins pulsed beneath the pale skin. “I will not abandon what I am. I will not give up my fangs.” He smiled thinly at me. “Have no fear, Regan. I assure you, I will outlive you all.”

I looked over at Elowyn, lying placidly on the other table, her hands clasped peacefully, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Bitter bile rose in my throat. “Why do any of this? What is it for? To rule Sangratha? You already have all the power. Everyone worships you. You command every highblood. Isn’t that enough?”

“Enough?” His voice was sharp. “Even now, they seek to pry power from my hands. The Avari threaten to rise up, to overthrow all that I have built. Enough? You believe Sangratha is the limit of my dreams?”

I didn’t really want to think about Viktor Drakharrow dreaming. “I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t. Few can comprehend true greatness. My goals are far larger than one realm. Even now, Marcus and Catherine work valiantly at the northern border on a quest to expand high-blood power into other lands.”

I wasn’t exactly surprised to hear he was working with Blake’s asshole older brother. But other lands? I shook my head, not understanding.

He looked at me with impatience. “Many ages ago, Sangratha was severed from its home world. Cut off from many sources of great power. But with Marcus and Catherine’s help, I will transform this world. Realms shall bleed together. Creatures once banished will return again. Highblood power will flow like an unstoppable tide. And I will stand at the forefront of it all with those who were loyal to me by my side. Highblood conquerors and our dragon slaves, riding across a frontier rich in blood and fear.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I said sarcastically. “Not like the world is fucked up enough already. And the dwarves?” I pointed at the pile of corpses in the corner. “How the fuck do those poor people fit into all of this?”

The dwarves had always been separate from Sangratha; they didn’t get involved in highblood affairs. The closest they came was sending some of their youths to attend Bloodwing. It didn’t always go very well for the ones who came aboveground to study. I remembered Medra Pendragon’s dwarven friend who’d been killed in the Consort Games after the Crown of Bone was placed on Medra’s head. The crown hadn’t been my idea—my father and Viktor had pushed me to make the request to Headmaster Kim. If I’d known one of Medra’s closest friends would be killed because of the crown, would I have done it? The old Regan probably still would have, but the new Regan, the one who at some point in the last few months had started feeling something deeper than skin level? I liked to think she would have made a different choice.

His eyes darkened. “Long ago, the dwarven kingdom stole something they had no right to.” He looked over at the dwarven corpses and scowled. “Whatever happens, I will have my revenge—and I will finally take back what is mine.”

I cocked my head. “Do you hear that? I think I hear wings. Is that Nyxaris landing?”

Viktor looked at me coldly. “Very amusing. Entertain yourself with false hope for the few minutes you have left.” He moved toward my cage, key already in hand.

“Shit,” I whispered. Was this really it? On the table, Florence’s dark eyes looked back at me—silent and helpless. The lock fell to the ground. My cell door creaked open.

Viktor didn’t know what it meant to be gentle. He hauled me over by the hair, dragging me out of the cell. My feet scrambled against the wooden floorboards. I gasped, choking as he yanked my head hard, pulling me past the shelves of instruments and the books and the cages of infected highbloods, toward the third table on the far side of the room … until my eyes landed on something. Something I must have seen at least a hundred times a day. A wall sconce. The lamp inside burned with oil.