Текст книги "The wolf and the crown of blood"

Автор книги: Elizabeth May

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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

57

BRYONY

SO THAT’S THE deal?” I breathe. “I die, and you take him off the leash?”

“That’s right.” Those burning eyes bore into mine. “One final death, and the Wolf gets to rule his territory.”

His grip on my throat isn’t crushing—just firm enough to remind us both of who’s really in control here. He could end me with a thought, a twitch of his fingers.

“Amalthea Devaliant didn’t hesitate when I gave her this choice,” he says. “She just drove the blade home. And that brought peace between realms and the Accords that have held our worlds in balance for centuries. Because she knew the truth.” He leans in, whispering, “To sacrifice is an act of love.”

His wild thunderstorm scent floods my senses. Petrichor and ozone, lightning and rain.

“So what’s it going to be, Princess? Ready to give up everything for him?” He tilts his head with a mocking smile. “Or do you only want him when there’s power in it for you and a Scillarian throne to sit your pretty ass on?”

Evander yanks against his chains. “Bryony—”

“Quiet.”

An invisible force slams into Evander, choking the words into silence.

I don’t look away from Alexios. I stare into those burning depths, and I let him see exactly who I am. What I’m made of. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from a lifetime of prostrating myself at altars and spilling my blood for ancient oaths, it’s how to bear a blade.

How to sacrifice.

“Give me your word,” I say, and my voice doesn’t shake. “Swear he goes free if I do this. On something that matters.”

“On the blood of my sister,” he says without hesitation, releasing me. “The Wolf knows what that means to me. No loopholes, no tricks. Just a simple transaction—your life for his freedom and everything that comes with it.”

I nod, jaw clenched tight. “You have a deal.”

Hundreds of demis watch in silence as I close the distance to where Evander kneels in the sand. Some whispers reach me from the stands. Do their hearts pound faster as they watch me work up the nerve to destroy myself? Are they hungry for it? Or maybe they understand this is the logical conclusion to my story.

The princess who opened her veins to the god-king who drank her dry.

It has a certain poetry, I suppose.

I cup Evander’s face in my palm. Alexios’ power must be gagging him, because his eyes scream the words his tongue can’t seem to shape. They beg me not to do this. Not to leave him. Not to be one more thing he loves that turns to ash.

We want what we want. Even when we know it’ll destroy us.

“I need you to listen to me,” I tell him. “I know that after this is over, you won’t forgive me for a long time, and that’s okay.” I blink back burning tears. “But you can’t”—I fist my hand in his shirt—“spend another three centuries drowning in guilt and rage. You’re a king, Evander. It’s time to act like it and be what your people need. I promised you I’d keep fighting, but I also understand when I have to set down my weapons and kneel. It’s shit, and it’s not fair, but this is about more than us.”

His chest shudders beneath my touch as he visibly struggles against Alexios’ hold.

“Just promise me something?” The words barely make it past the lump in my throat. “When you think of me, remember that I love you. And that if our positions were reversed, you’d make the same choice.”

I lean down and press my lips to his in a kiss that feels like the end of worlds. Like galaxies colliding. Like two dying stars finally surrendering to the inevitable pull of gravity.

I kiss him with everything I have, every shard of my soul that belongs to him. I pour a lifetime’s worth of feeling into the slant of my lips—I love you and I love you and I love you.

And then I wrench away.

I turn to Alexios and nod in a silent assent to get this over with.

He draws a blade from his boot. My hand shakes as I take it from him, its weight like a promise, an oath. This is my lineage, my birthright. House Devaliant was born and bred for this singular purpose.

It’s only fitting that I return to it now—this time, on my terms. The death I choose.

“Remember,” Alexios says. “You have to mean it. No half measures.”

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I tighten my grip on the knife and lower myself to my knees, angling the point over my thundering heart.

My voice only trembles a little when I say, “I need your help to push it. I can’t do it one-handed.” The wrist he broke is numb now, hanging limply at my side.

Alexios kneels beside me, wrapping his hands over mine. “Look at him. Look at what you’re dying for.”

My eyes find Evander’s again, and I let myself have this last moment to etch him into my memory. I think of all the times he held me. Laughed with me. All those sleepless nights and stolen kisses and bruising fingertips. I remember his smile. The softness of his wings under my palms.

I let the remembering fill me until there’s no room for anything else—for fear or pain or regret. I wrap those moments around myself like armor and brace for impact.

“Ready,” I whisper.

Alexios’ stare meets mine, and we both shove the dagger into my chest.

Agony explodes through me. My vision flashes, narrowing down to the steel buried between my ribs, the bloom of scarlet spilling down my breastband.

“That’s it.” Alexios’ voice. “Bleed for him.”

So I do.

I fall back into the sand and yield to the darkness. Let it open its jaws and draw me into the drowning deep. There are no ledges to cling to, no handholds to scrabble for purchase, no way back. There’s only the helpless surrender and the descent into the Void.

My life has been hundreds of deaths staring up at vaulted temple ceilings and marble statues. I know this hurt, the cold and nothingness of the vast, unyielding black. There’s a terrible intimacy to this pain. Strange, how death feels the same as falling in love—all-consuming and terrifying. There’s no great conflagration. Just the plunge. The fall.

Down.

Down.

Dow—

A scream shatters the nothing. I burst awake in agony, my spine arching as power sears through my veins, stitching me together. It fills every hollow space, every crack and crevice, until I’m burning from the inside out.

And then my back tears open.

The pain transcends anything I’ve ever known. It cleaves through muscle and sinew and bone, flaring wide to give way to—

Wings.

They explode from my shoulder blades in a spray of dazzling light. Pure white dappled with gold, resembling fresh snow touched by the first rays of dawn.

They’re massive—and heavy. The muscles of my back strain as they struggle to compensate for the sudden weight.

I’m still trying to process—being alive, these wings, this magic running through me—when a familiar touch brushes my face.

Evander. Out of his shackles.

Awe fills his expression, breathless and full of quiet devastation as his gaze roams over me. Over my wings.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs thickly, tugging me against his chest. “I’ve got you, nemesis. Breathe for me, okay? Just keep fucking breathing.”

I sag against him as the arena spins. As my body tries to reconcile the new shape of itself, to grapple with the reality of pinions and flight and other.

But Evander isn’t finished with me.

His face hardens, and he grabs my shoulders to give me a small shake. “You reckless lunatic,” he snarls. “What in the ever-loving fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking”—a cough rattles from my newly reformed lungs—“that I love you.”

“Don’t—” His voice cracks as he crushes me against him. “Don’t you ever do that again. Do you hear me? Never. Fucking. Again.”

I’m spared answering by a pointed throat-clearing. Alexios fixes the assembled demis with a cutting look, and I swear the temperature plunges.

“I trust,” he says, “that she’s proven herself to you all? That Scillari claiming her is good enough to let her take her place at an Eternal’s side? No further pound of flesh you’d like to extract?”

His gaze sweeps the arena, daring a single one of them to so much as breathe dissent.

No one makes a sound.

And then—movement. A demi with silver wings lowers his head, kneels, and places a hand over his heart. Another follows. Then another. They all fall to their knees one by one.

“That’s for you, Princess,” Alexios whispers.

For me.

I’ve been worshipped and exalted as the Princess of the Blood. The Anchor. The sacrifice. I’ve had my name screamed by crowds of faithful, been showered with priceless gifts, had poets write odes to my beauty.

And nothing—nothing—has ever felt as good as seeing these demis place their hands on their chests and go quiet for me. I didn’t get this because I was born. I didn’t get it through ancient oaths or bloodlines or traditions.

I earned this.

Alexios straightens. “You’ll all have plenty of time to get acquainted with the Wolf’s queen, but she needs rest now. Let him have her.” He gestures upward with a jerk of his chin. “Go on. Out.”

They rise into the air in groups, their wings catching the torchlight as they fly toward the open oculus. Power drifts across my skin, and my own wings twitch with an instinct I don’t understand—something primal, a desire to stretch my limbs wide and follow.

“They want to fly with you,” Evander murmurs, noticing my reaction. “It’s tradition when an Eternal takes a Chosen. They’ll wait until you’re ready.” He bumps my shoulder. “Told you they’d come to love you.”

I watch until the last of them disappears from the arena into the night sky, and then it’s only the three of us.

Alexios faces us. “Let’s get one thing clear. This realm doesn’t just hand out wings because you asked nicely. When a mortal bonds with a god, Scillari tests them. It needed proof you were worthy of its king.”

Behind me, Evander’s chest vibrates with a sound that’s pure violence. “You could have fucking mentioned that.”

“If I’d told her, it wouldn’t have been real. The laws of our existence aren’t suggestions I get to ignore when they’re inconvenient.” He spreads his hands. “Be grateful someone still remembers how this works. It’s been thousands of years since one of us was stupid enough to soulbond with a human, and the realm rejected her. The last thing I needed was to put down another grieving, destructive Eternal.”

He fixes me with an assessing look, gaze skating over my new wings. “One more thing.” He holds out his hand, and the box I took from Nyholm materializes in his palm. “The seal inside releases the Wolf from his collar. Put the crystal right to his chest. When his power detonates, your bond is going to need attention.”

“What kind of attention?” I ask.

“The kind that keeps you in bed for a week. So pick furniture you don’t mind destroying.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Oh.”

“I’m sure you’ll both have a lovely time.” His red eyes flick between us. “One last piece of advice from someone who’s lived a very long life: cherish what he’s giving you. An Eternal doesn’t bare their wings to just anyone. That’s the kind of trust that can shatter realms. You fought for this. Bled for it. Died for it. Don’t let anyone take it from you.”

With a final nod, he turns and strides toward the towering double doors at the edge of the arena sands.

But Evander’s voice rings out. “Wait.”

Alexios pauses, glancing over his shoulder.

Evander pushes to his feet. “You gave me a gift I can’t ever hope to repay.” He closes the distance to Alexios. “A chance to keep my Chosen. To fly with her, to love her, to build a life with her in all the ways I never thought I’d get to have. And I owe you for that. More than I could ever put into words.”

Then he seizes Alexios by the throat and slams him into the nearest wall. Stone fractures under the impact.

“But you tortured her.” Evander’s other hand draws back and punches straight through Alexios’s stomach. The wet sound of tearing flesh echoes through the arena. “So if you ever so much as look at my woman again, I’ll spend the next millennia finding new ways to rearrange your insides. Never speak to her again. Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”

A slow smile spreads across Alexios’ face, and he lets his head fall back. “Message received, Wolf.”

“Then get out.”

Evander rips his fist free.

Alexios smirks, pressing a palm to the gaping wound in his abdomen. I watch as the flesh knits together beneath his splayed fingers.

Then he’s gone, walking through the double doors without a backward glance.

For a moment, there’s only the rasp of Evander’s breathing. His hand and forearm are drenched in gore. The soft drip-drip-drip of blood hits the ground. He just stands there in the torchlight, chest rising and falling with each unsteady inhale as he stares at the red sand at his feet.

“Evander. Look at me.”

Slowly, so slowly, he turns, and the expression on his face…

Stripped bare. Flayed open and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen from him before.

“When I stood in the ruins of my home, a part of me died,” he whispers. “There’s no fixing that kind of grief. It just… hollows you out. Leaves you empty. But you got under my skin. You burrowed so deep that the thought of breathing without you was impossible. Because you’re my heart.”

He curls his fingers into his palm and shuts his eyes briefly. “I lost you.” A broken whisper, so soft I have to strain to hear it. “For a minute there, I lost you, and it was like being in the wreckage. Like watching everything burn all over again. I didn’t care if I lived or died because what’s the point? What’s the point of eternity if you’re not in it?”

Something twists in me, sharp and painful. I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him vicious. But this… this grief is new. And it hurts.

He returns to my side, his clean hand trembling as it finds my face. “You can’t do that again,” he says. “You can’t leave and expect me not to follow. If you die, I die. That’s how this works now.”

I kiss his palm, my vision blurring with tears. “I won’t. Promise.”

His attention drifts to my wings. Slowly, almost reverently, he reaches out to trail his fingers along the oversensitive arch of my wing, wringing a soft, involuntary noise from my throat. Too sensitive. Too much.

“Shhh,” he soothes, continuing his exploration. “They’re so beautiful, all white and gold. How do they feel?”

I blow out a slow breath. “Heavy.”

“We’ll train the muscles. Build your endurance and your pain tolerance.” His head dips, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to where my wings meet the skin. “I’ll work this body until it sings for me.”

“It already does,” I whisper.

A helpless shiver rolls through me, and I know he feels it. We sway into each other, foreheads pressed together as we just breathe, relearning the shape of this. Of us.

After a small eternity, he withdraws, and his gaze strays to the box in my hand.

“Ready?” I ask him.

“Born ready, nemesis.”

I lift the latch, and the lid falls open to reveal a glowing yellow crystal.

My attention cuts back to Evander’s in a silent question. At his nod, I lift it free.

“So I just… put it on you?”

He laughs. “Just”—his hands close over mine, guiding the seal above his heart—“like this.”

The crystal makes contact with a flare of light and sinks beneath his skin.

Searing light explodes around us. His power lashes against me, a concussive wave of energy that rattles the arena and sends fissures through the stonework.

But I barely register the destruction. Can’t focus on anything beyond the way our bond fractures open, flayed nerve endings and endless hunger. A need so visceral that I feel it in every part of me.

That inhuman part of me, so newly woken, utters a soft purr of recognition. It knows this power, this wildness. The scent of him.

Then he lunges, crushing his mouth to mine in a kiss that tastes of blood and victory. Of possession. It’s the drag of his tongue against mine and the sharp nip of teeth. It’s wildfire singing through my veins.

His magic spreads beneath my skin. Power and life and ancient, nameless things. Sensation and memory collide—the incandescent truth of it. Of him. Of this impossible, inviolable thing between us.

It feels like finally exhaling after a lifetime underwater. It feels like surfacing.

It feels like coming home.

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58

EVANDER

I FIND BRYONY in the garden.

Her white and gold feathers catch the sun as she clears away the dead roses. Even after a few days, I’m still not used to her transformation, the proof that she’s mine. Her skin glows differently now—softer, brighter. The old Devaliant sheen is gone, replaced by the crushed diamond luster of a demigoddess.

She hums as she moves. Though she’s still a while away from flying long distances, her wings no longer drag on the ground. My girl is learning.

I bite back a groan as she kneels. She’s wearing my shirt, leaving those long, muscular legs bare as she turns to toss a withered vine into her basket. I love seeing her in my clothes. That silent declaration—she’s taken, she’s spoken for.

This one is mine.

Our bond pulses. It’s different since her death, a deeper link now that she has power of her own to Claim me. The eight-pointed star on my chest pulses in response to her nearness, to the way her magic reaches for mine, tangling together in that space where our souls meet.

The tension eases from her shoulders. “You’re doing it again,” she says without turning.

“Doing what?”

“The hovering.” She glances at me through a tumble of silvery hair. “The lurking.”

I flash her a grin. “Sweetheart, you bend over in nothing but my shirt, and I’m going to look. I’m only a male.”

I close the distance between us. My hands find her hips, and her breath catches when I put my mouth to the curve of her neck.

My hands drift to the place where her wings join the muscles of her back. I stroke my fingers through the silken feathers, and she melts into me with a moan, her head tilting to the side. I take ruthless advantage, kissing along her throat.

I stroke her wings. There’s an intimacy to touching her here, a rightness. It feels holy. Reverent. A gift I never thought we’d both share.

“Your control is getting better,” I tell her. “You’re not overbalancing anymore. The drag isn’t as pronounced.”

She snorts. “I destroyed three vases in the atrium yesterday.”

A laugh rumbles out of me. “You’ll get there. We’ll train you up, get you nice and coordinated.” I drag my teeth over her pulse, feeling her shiver. She smells like crushed petals and spring rain, like something wild and mine. “You left me alone in that big bed. For gardening.”

“You’re the reason my roses are dead. You should help me.”

“You know you don’t need to clear the roses with your hands anymore, don’t you? You could magic it away.”

“Just because I’m a demigoddess doesn’t mean I want magic to fix everything.” She leans into me. “Four days, Wolf. You’ve had me in that bed for four days straight.”

“And the plan was seven days of making you scream my name before I had to share you with the rest of the world. You fucked up my schedule, nemesis.” I lift her wrist to my mouth and let my lips drag over the glowing star. “Anything you want to talk about?”

For a moment, there’s only the whisper of leaves overhead, the morning chorus of birds.

Then, “I miss my sister.”

Ah. There it is.

“I know it’s only been a week. But after everything that went down in Hellevig…” She swallows hard. “I hate thinking of her there alone.”

“Elias is with her,” I say. “He’s one of Alexios’ best warriors. And Bastien will be there in a few days for part of the rotation. They’ll keep her safe.”

Her glare could melt steel. “Right. Because what every woman needs when she’s dealing with political shit and assassination attempts is Bastien ‘I’d rather set myself on fire than smile’ and some random demi guard instead of her sister.”

I wince. Okay, yeah. Point taken.

“I’ll take you to her. But I’ll need to work something out with Alexios. He controls the Shroud, and now that I’m not his Enforcer, crossing between realms isn’t as simple.”

Her wings droop. “Oh.”

“Hey.” I tip her chin up. “I’ll make it happen.”

Her expression softens, and warmth floods the bond, that soothing sensation of our souls meeting down the tether like tangling tree roots. Over our eternity, those roots will spread, grow, deepen.

“You’d tear the world apart if I asked, wouldn’t you?” she asks me.

A million times over, I think but don’t say. She knows. She has to know.

What comes out instead is a low, rough, “Try me and find out.”

I pull her more firmly against me, savoring how her breathing goes a little ragged. Then I capture her lips with mine, tentative at first, exploring. I’ve been doing this for days now—letting myself taste her, kiss her as if to relearn her. But then she pushes against me more insistently. A wordless demand.

So I slant my mouth over hers, kissing her slow and deep. The kind of kiss that says mine and yours and always. Her lips part with a sigh, and I savor the sweetness of her.

“I want you,” I say when we break apart. “Tell me I can have you right now. Tell me you didn’t bother with underwear under this shirt.”

“No.” It’s barely more than a breath. “None at all.”

Fuck.

A red haze takes over. My hands slide down to the backs of her thighs, and I lift her, pressing her to the tower wall. I keep one hand cupped under her ass to hold her in place as I work open the buttons of her borrowed shirt with the other.

“Five-day ban on gardening,” I tell her.

“That seems excessive—”

Her words cut off on a moan as I close my mouth over her nipple.

“You left my bed empty.” I punctuate the words with a sharp nip. “Actions. Have. Consequences.”

I take my time with her. My lips map a burning trail down her throat, across her collarbones, between her breasts. Until she’s making those little urgent sounds that drive me crazy. Need pulses between us, building with every touch. A feedback loop of want and more and please.

She unbuttons my trousers and grips my cock. My hips jerk into her fist, chasing more of that perfect friction.

“Keep that up,” I grit out, “and this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”

“Then hurry up and fuck me.”

With a rough laugh, I notch myself against her pussy and push into her, relishing the tightness, the heat, her body yielding to mine. Her head thumps back against the wall, lips parting.

“Nemesis, you feel—” I break off, burying my groan in the crook of her neck. She feels like completion. Like everything I’ve ever wanted.

I start to move. A slow, deep grind that has our hips meeting on every downstroke. I refuse to rush this. I’ll never get tired of seeing her mouth part on a gasp as I fuck into her. The snag of her teeth on her lower lip. The way her eyes glaze as she watches me. Her hips roll against mine, lifting with every thrust.

I’ve been careful with her these past few days. So mindful of her body’s limitations after the transformation. But my queen has other ideas. Her thighs flex around my waist, using that new strength to urge me faster, harder.

“Stop treating me like I’m fragile,” she pants.

If she wants to be ruined, I can do that.

I wedge my hand between her wings to grip the nape of her neck, yanking her in for a hard kiss. Then I’m slamming into her, driving up into her heat. Our bond floods with sensation—pleasure edged with a sweet ache as I give her what she wants. What we both need. She matches me, thrust for thrust, hands scrabbling at my shoulders, my wings, any part of me she can reach.

I slide my fingers to her clit and circle it until she’s shaking. Nearly there. I work her higher, winding her tighter and tighter and tighter—

And then she bites me.

Her teeth close over the Claim on my chest, right on top of that star—our star—and pleasure whites out thought.

“Oh fuck,” I groan. “Sweetheart, you can’t just…”

She does it again, and my hips grind into her, seeking that liquid heat, that impossible rapture. Sensation bursts through me. She’s everywhere at once—in my head, under my skin. Her pleasure bleeds into mine, building together until we’re all tangled up.

Release crashes into me. For a suspended moment, I’m frozen, drowning in bliss so intense it hurts. I bury my face in her neck as I empty myself inside her, my hips rocking in shallow pushes. I dimly register her tensing around me as she joins me over the edge, her cries muffled against me. Her thighs squeeze my hips.

Fucking her has never felt so much like annihilation.

Her expression goes soft as she opens her eyes and kisses me. Because this is forever. This is eternity. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, like she’s reached into my ribs and grabbed it, marked it as her own. I press my lips to her brow. Her cheeks. The corners of her mouth. I turn my face into her neck and just breathe.

“I love you,” I rasp. They’re too small, those three words. Too simple for the enormity of our souls brushing against one another. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Later, as we’re straightening our clothes, I see it.

Peeking out from beneath the tangle of dead vines, a glowing red rose opens its petals to the morning sun.

*   *   *

Alexios stands at the edge of the cliff, his wings spread wide, and his power building like a storm about to break.

“Come to threaten me again over your Chosen?” he asks.

The Shroud unfurls in a veil of stars, glimmering and vast, with colors bleeding together. Black lines of rot cut through it, eating the rest away.

“Tempting,” I admit. “But no. I’m here to make a deal.”

A sharp laugh. “Five days, and you’re already crawling back for favors?” His red eyes cut into me, searching. “Give me one good reason why I should even consider it.”

I breathe deep. I can do this. For her.

“Because I’ll help you hold up the Shroud.”

Alexios goes quiet, and I watch the calculations behind those garnet eyes. “Must be a big ask. Does the female whose name I’m meant to keep out of my fucking mouth know you’re here bartering?”

Of course she does, you smug fuck. But temper has no place here. Reason, I remind myself. Diplomacy.

“She knows. Doesn’t like it, but she gets it’s my call.”

He arches a brow. “How domestic of you. What do you want?”

“Permission to pass through the wards at will. Bryony wants to see her sister, and Theodora is bound to Hellevig until she births an heir to carry on their bloodline.” I spread my hands in a silent, There it is.

The things we do for love. The monstrous bargains we strike.

Alexios just watches me, and I feel the weight of millennia in that hard red stare. The civilizations he ground to dust under his heel. Right now, he’s the Eternal through and through—conqueror and god-king, the one who stitched the realms together using shreds of his own soul to do it.

“No,” he says flatly.

I exhale through my nose, calling on every damn bit of restraint to keep from lunging for his throat. “You made me watch while you tortured my soulbonded mate,” I say, my voice deadly soft. “By every Scillarian law, I’d be giving my judgment on your punishment. Instead, I’m volunteering to help hold up your barrier. Letting the Devaliant sisters see each other is a small fucking ask.”

“It’s not a ‘small fucking ask,’” Alexios says. His power swells, pressure building, until a spark of lightning skitters over his cheek. “You want to parade a famous Devaliant through Vartena, where any idiot with functional eyes might notice their dead princess suddenly sprouted wings. Have you thought this through at all?”

My magic rises, snarling against his. The air thickens as our Eternal energies collide. “No one will see her. No one has to know.” I take a step forward. “But Theodora needs her sister if you want her sane enough to anchor your precious Shroud. Let them have this, or I’ll ally with Nyholm and leave you drowning under this burden alone. How long before it drives you completely insane, do you think? A century? Less?”

Electricity sparks between us and thunder rolls across the mountains, but I don’t flinch. I’ve spent too many years watching him demolish things to fear his temper now.

Finally, he looks away. “Fine. She can go to Hellevig. Keep it brief.”

“Thought you might see it my way.” I roll my shoulders. “Now. How do we stitch my magic into this mess?”

“I’ll bind you to a fifth of its weight to start. If you thought the collar hurt, wait until you experience the Shroud clawing into you.”

“I’ll hold. My Chosen bled for me. It’s only fair I return the courtesy.”

Something flickers over Alexios’ face. Maybe a shadow of recognition, of what it means to destroy yourself for another. “Open a vein. Bleed onto the ground and let the Shroud drink deep. Let me handle the rest.”

I unsheathe my blade and slice my left palm, watching as scarlet wells up and falls to the soil.

Alexios mirrors the action. His power unfurls and lashes my skin in a concussive wave of electric pressure. It sings through my veins and crackles over the Shroud in indigo lightning.

He cracks his neck. “Try not to scream too much.”

Then he slams our bleeding palms together and—

Pain explodes through me. The Shroud tears through skin and bones, sinking claws into my soul and cracking me open. I’m lost. There’s no gentle meld, no gradual coaxing of magic into new paths. Only a violent collision.

“Let it in.” Alexios’ voice is distorted and strange, filtering through layers of static. “Stop fighting, you stubborn fuck.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

And I fall.

I fall and fall and fall. Searing cold floods my senses, fills my nose and mouth and lungs until I’m suffocating from it. Submerged in the frigid rush burrowing into all the empty spaces.

Everything feels wrong. Like I’ve been torn apart and nothing fits right anymore and I’m wearing someone else’s skin. My awareness stretches until I sense the pulse of the realms, the endless expanse of space between them.

And then … it settles. Calms like a heavy weight pressing to my chest.

Distantly, I feel Alexios’ hand on my nape. “Breathe through the pressure.”

I drag in air and breathe, gulping greedy lungfuls as my body tries to reconcile this new shape. This peculiar tightness in my bones.

Slowly, I come back to myself. Light whirls behind my eyelids, and a strange ache pounds inside my skull.

Evander? A phantom touch skates my consciousness, soft as a sigh. Are you okay?

I send a surge of reassurance down the glittering tether that binds Bryony’s soul to mine. I’m fine. Just the Shroud getting comfortable.