“Where is Edric?” Cyrene asked in the stillness.

Panic seized her. Despite all he had done, she did not wish him dead or, worse, captured. Her eyes roamed the bodies and found the six dead Braj. There had been no more than that when they crashed through the windows. She was sure of it. She tried not to see the devastation they had wrought. At least three dozen guards and a few unfortunate Affiliates and High Order who had been too close to the windows all lay scattered across the once-white marble floors.

She heard someone wretch nearby. Cyrene’s sword clattered to the ground, and she covered her mouth in horror.

Kael was by her side in an instant, pulling her against his chest. She clung to him like a lifeline.

So much death.

So much unnecessary death.

Her fault again.

“Where is he?” she whispered into his blood-splattered dress clothes.

“We’ll find him, Cyrene. Breathe and release.”

She hadn’t even realized that she had still been holding on to her magic, but with a sigh, she let it go. Her body felt as if it had been trampled by a horse and carriage. Her headache whipped across her skull, and her knees would have given out beneath her had Kael not been holding her up.

“Why am I so weak?”

“You will get stronger,” he told her, his breath a prayer against her ear. “Just feel all the power around you. Drink it in.”

She closed her eyes and tried to sense what he was saying. But all she could feel was death. Death and destruction. Blood. Blood everywhere.

Then, that feeling of longing locked into her heart, and she remembered that time she had wanted to pull in magic from Robard’s blood. How inviting it had been. How much it had sung to her.

That was what she could sense. Not the magic she had been using all along. Not the elements feeding her body, communing with nature. But forbidden magic. The life force of others calling out to her. She closed her eyes against the torrent, as it all seemed to hit her fresh. But she didn’t grab on. She didn’t take it.

She had seen what had happened when Viktor killed his own child. How it had perverted the binding spell between him and Serafina.

What would it do to me if I give in to it? How would it affect someone who already had Doma magic deep in their veins? Would my soul even be able to handle it?

At once, her eyes flew open, and she shoved Kael away. “You!”

His eyebrows rose in a question. “Cyrene, you’ve had quite an eventful day. Perhaps we should get you some food and have you sit down.”

“This was what you wanted?”

Energy radiated from him. Darkness deepened his sharp features. Inky-black tendrils practically crawled from his sleeves toward her.

“How could I want this, Cyrene?”

“You said today would be…eventful,” she accused.

His eyes were so black, the blue practically vanished. “It was, but I never expected this.”

“Yet you revel in it.”

“Don’t you have a king to find?”

She glared at him. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, I look forward to it.”

Cyrene stormed away from Kael. Her magic stuttered and spat, even as her anger intensified. She had nothing to draw from. Nothing to replenish. And Edric was missing. She had lost him in the battle. In fact, she didn’t even know if he had followed her. She was barefoot, covered in blood, with an aching headache. She wanted a bath and a good night’s sleep. But she couldn’t rest until she knew what had happened to him. Her instincts told her to press on.

Her eyes roamed the room and found it almost completely empty, save the remaining soldiers and the dead. She picked up the tatters of her skirt and ran toward the office door where she knew his first line of defense was. She was halfway through when Merrick appeared.

“Do you have Edric?” she gasped.

He shook his head once. “He went after you.”

“And you didn’t follow him?”

“I was…detained.”

Cyrene nearly shrieked in his face. She didn’t even know why she cared so much. For all intents and purposes, Edric’s disappearance would be a relief for her. But she couldn’t stop the panic that seized her heart. He had to be here.

Then, she froze. She knew how to find him. She closed her eyes and reached into her center, past the thread for Avoca, away from the mess of a thread for Kael, and to that flickering light. She tugged on the binding that connected them and hurried in the direction that pulled her. She didn’t want to think about how she would explain this later. Right now, her priority was Edric.

She dashed down the aisle and through the tossed open double doors. Her feet carried her down the foyer, to the entrance of the castle. She skidded to a halt. Her hand flew to her chest as she stared at more bloodbath.

There hadn’t been six Braj.

There had been seven.

Her mother was already on the ground, bleeding out of a wound in her stomach. Tears streaked her gorgeous face. Her father held her hand, even in death. His eyes were closed. A flimsy weapon discarded at his side.

Her mother and father were dead.

Herlana and Hamidon Strohm were no more.

The words felt…wrong. Foreign in her mouth. In her mind.

How?

How could they be dead?

She had done everything she could to protect them. Everything she could to be the daughter they deserved. She had even become consort for their lives. And, the minute her back was turned, they had been slain by an unholy creature.

The rest of the scene came into focus before her. Reeve and Edric with swords aloft, holding back the Braj. Elea was paralyzed with fright behind them but not backing down. A Strohm girl through and through. A young man, whom Cyrene had never seen before, stood beside her with his eyes focused on the battle.

Cyrene wanted to sink to the floor and hold her parents in their final moments. She wanted to cry and scream for the atrocity of them being taken from her too soon. But she hadn’t gotten to do it for Maelia. She wouldn’t do it now.

She would grieve when the battle was won.

The clash of swords reminded her that this was not over. She had no weapon. Nothing to use against the Braj, save her magic. And, if she had to reveal that to Edric and her siblings, she would use it.

“Hey!” she shouted.

Edric’s and Reeve’s heads snapped up at the same time.

“Cyrene, no!” Reeve shouted.

“Stay back!” Edric cried.

Elea’s hand flew to her mouth. Whatever she said was drowned out over the roar of the Braj.

“You,” it said.

It turned, slicing at her mind in a surprise attack, but she was ready. She held it off with sheer force of will.

It moved away from her family to stride toward her with its curved blade. “The heir has finally come to face her death.”

Edric and Reeve used its momentary distraction to rush the Braj. It turned around with anger and darted out at them. Reeve dodged the blade, but Edric was not so lucky.

“No!” Cyrene screamed, knowing full well that a Braj blade held a horrible venom. She had only survived her own cut because of her magic and herbs from a healer in Albion.

Edric had neither.

He collapsed to the ground at once, an inhumane shout reverberating through the entrance hall. The poison had taken mere minutes to pass through her blood system. What would it do to Edric?

Elea knelt at his side, but surely, she had no idea how to help him. Cyrene needed to get to him.

“Little King,” the Braj said in disgust, “the Destroyer will take you all in the end.”

Cyrene reached out for the very essence of the Braj. She didn’t know what she was doing, just that it had to be done. These creatures…this darkness could not take everything that mattered in her life. It was not capable of destroying her any further. She might see the end one day, but she refused to let it be today.

She tightened her hand into a fist, feeling her powers weaken, even as she grasped for more. If it was the last thing she did, she would not let this Braj survive another day.

It grunted as she held it in place, squeezing the very life force from its body. She would have finished him off just like that, but Reeve took the opportunity to run his blade through the creature.

Cyrene released her powers with a gasp and fell to one knee. Empty. She was totally empty. Holding the Braj for that long had felt like fire running through her body, leaving behind blinding white-hot coals.

Reeve released his sword, and the Braj slipped onto the marble floor. His blood leaked out of him, staining the white tiles black.

“Cyrene,” Elea called. Tears ran tracks down her cheeks.

Not done.

She still wasn’t done.

Edric.

She hoisted herself off the ground, despite all protests to the contrary. Her eyes found Reeve’s. They were wide and disbelieving. He had trained his whole life for a fight that he never believed he would have to face. Death was not an easy thing to have on your hands even if it was a creature who would take yours with glee.

“Find Kael,” she told Reeve. “Now!”

He bolted into action, disappearing from view at a sprint.

Cyrene rushed to Edric’s side. She ripped open the side of his shirt where the blade had gone into his chest. Already, the wound was hot to the touch, green, and festering. He didn’t have long.

“Elea, we need a healer. Anyone who is proficient. The king will die without one.” Cyrene turned to the boy with her. “I need supplies—boiling water, clean bandages, herbs. Hurry!”

“Cyrene,” Elea said, reaching for her.

“Do you want your king to die?” Cyrene asked.

She feebly shook her head.

“Then, go!”

As both of them dashed away, Cyrene set to her real work. There was nothing a healer could do if the poison couldn’t be drawn out of his system. This wasn’t like a normal poison. She had felt it through her veins. She had felt the sear of it eating her alive. This was otherworldly and menacing.

For a moment, she pulled back and looked up into Edric’s waxy face. That beautiful face that she had admired for so long was now pale, sweaty, and near to death. His blue-gray eyes were closed. He must have passed out from the pain.

And, for a moment, just a moment, she sat back on her heels and wondered…

Would it be so bad to allow Edric to pass?

She felt horrible for contemplating it. No one else deserved to die. Not on her watch.

But, if Edric were gone, she would no longer be consort. She would be free. Her family would be safe. Her life could go on without this chain tightened around her neck.

It would be so easy to allow him to fade. An honorable death for a king to die in battle. For his bravery and steadfastness, he would be revered high above any king since Viktor Dremylon.

She stared at that disgusting puckered wound and knew that, despite all of that, despite knowing that she could get away from this, Edric didn’t deserve this. And she refused to be the kind of person who would allow this.

“No,” she whispered. “I will save you, Edric. I will.”

She placed her hands on the open wound and closed her eyes. Drawing on her powers, she reached into his body with her mind. She sought out how far the poison had gotten into his system, and the pain Edric was feeling lanced through her in response. It was everywhere. Spreading so fast. Impossible to remove without magic. That was clear from inspection.

But, as quickly as she had found it, her powers stuttered and flickered out. She didn’t have enough. She needed more. She had depleted everything, going up against the Braj.

She needed Kael.

Her eyes flew down the corridor to where she had sent Reeve. If Kael arrived, then they could link and work together to save his brother. They had to do this.

She kept working, trying to use whatever tiny reservoirs came up as her body replenished. But, without food or water or anything, she was tapped out.

“No,” she cried, pushing harder against the wound to try to do what she knew she was capable of.

Tears collected in her lashes as she worked. Tiny amounts of the poison were being removed but not enough. Not nearly enough.

“Where is he?” Cyrene groaned.

She checked for Kael again, but he wasn’t there. He had abandoned her to this and abandoned his brother to his fate.

Edric’s body seized, and he shook uncontrollably under her touch.

“No, no, no,” she cried desperately.

She closed her eyes and tried with all her might to make things work. She had put her faith in her magic. That her heightened emotions—anger, grief, fury, lust, pain—would drive her home. It had been so easy. So impossibly easy.

And, when she really needed it, it was failing her.

She cast out for any magic, any at all, to save him.

But she was too late.

His body stilled beneath her fingers.