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My skin goes cold. And Valentin’s power hits so hard the far wall cracks.

‘You planned that,’ he says.

‘I anticipated it.’

‘You anticipated me placing my blood in her mouth after your spell tried to kill her.’

Selphine tilts her head. ‘I gambled that the ancient king who keeps calling himself a monster would eventually fail to behave like one where she’s concerned.’

The bond flares and I feel Valentin’s fury burn through it, but underneath, shock moves like a blade under silk.

She’s reading him. Reading us. My stomach turns.

Just then Rowan’s arms snap forward, letting loose a vicious-looking spell. It happens so fast even the vampires move a fraction late. Frost-white light lashes across the room, a net of runes aimed at Selphine’s chest.

Selphine lifts one hand. And the spell stops.

The runes hang useless in the air, trembling, inches from her palm.

Then Selphine’s face flickers. Old, for a heartbeat. Ancient. Skin drawn tight over bone, eyes blackened by power and her mouth thin with centuries of hunger.

Then young. So young my breath catches. I see a woman with dark hair unthreaded by silver, smooth skin and full mouth. It’s the same face I saw in Tavish Drennan’s dying mind beside Marek Volkov, lit by green flame and impossible purpose.

Then she’s old again.

My fingers dig into the table. Valentin feels the recognition bolt through me.

You saw it too?

Yes.

Selphine’s gaze cuts to me and the affection in it curdles into warning. ‘Do not look at me like that, child,’ she says softly.

‘Like what?’ I ask. ‘Like I’m trying to work out how many versions of your face were lies?’

Her hand closes around Rowan’s suspended spell. The runes collapse inward, twisting into a little white flame above Selphine’s palm. Rowan’s eyes widen half a second before Selphine hurls the flame back at her.

The younger witch slams into the far wall so hard the impact shakes the room.

‘Rowan!’ I shout.

She drops to one knee, breathing hard, one hand pressed to the floor as black veins of magic crawl briefly up her wrist before she burns them away with a hissed word.

Valentin attacks, no warning or speech. One second he’s beside me. The next he’s a black blur of rage and fangs, crossing the room with enough force to make the air crack.

Selphine turns, and with the insulting ease of a soft breeze, a force field erupts around her.

I feel it, smell the rot of old swamp water and grave bells tolling over the dead. Watch Valentin hit it with a sound like thunder striking glass.

The entire Tower shudders as he’s thrown back.

My heart stops.

But he twists midair, catches himself against the broken table, and rises with a roar that sends every light in the room flaring red.

The Heartshard Glass shrieks.

This time the sound splits the air so violently I slap both hands over my ears. The largest shard blooms with black-red light. The five-segment circle appears again inside the fractured surface, but the New York segment pulses so dark it almost swallows the others.