He spoke too quickly, his black eyes bottomless and glittering. He seemed elated to be looking at her, like a delighted child reunited with his best friend. Eliana’s stomach turned. She couldn’t contain a small, panicked sob.

“Please,” she said, focusing on the one thing she could think of clearly, “let me see my brother.”

He ignored her, smoothing back a lock of hair that clung to her damp cheek. “Can you imagine if you were mine instead of his? Your mother’s beauty added to my own? My angelic beauty, of course. How I looked before the Deep took me. My God. You would be a vision. And!” He clapped his hands. “You would have wings on your back, just like Simon once did! The sign of a marque. Isn’t that right, Simon?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” said Simon from somewhere behind her.

“Do what you’re going to do and be done with it,” Eliana spat, tears hot in her eyes. “You’re going to hurt me. So hurt me.”

Corien’s smile faded. “How disappointing. You seem to have inherited your father’s lack of humor.”

“I also inherited his lack of tolerance for evil despots.” She felt dizzy with fear but forced herself to look straight at him. “I know what you want. You want to use me as a weapon, to finally eradicate humanity, as you failed to do with my mother. I won’t help you. You’ll have to kill me.” She grasped wildly for ammunition. “You can’t force me to do what you want—not on that scale, and not with the power I possess. If you could do that, you would have done it with Rielle.”

A flicker of anger passed over Corien’s face. She latched on to it, startled. “Ah, see? There’s something about the power she had, that I have. Something surpassing yours, something you can’t touch.”

“So it would seem,” said Corien evenly.

“You had to persuade her to join your cause before she would do what you wanted,” Eliana continued, emboldened by the mutinous look on his face. “And now you’ll have to persuade me, only you’ll fail. I’ll never do what she did. I’ll never help you kill my own people.”

“Oh, my sweet, stupid child.” Corien smoothed his thumbs across the slick arches of her brows. “You think I want to use you to eradicate humanity? I’ve nearly done that on my own. It’s only a matter of time until the rest of you are gone. No, what you will do is sit there and watch, mute and bound, while Simon uses the power you have so helpfully resurrected to send me back to find your mother.”

Eliana stared as Simon approached, the strength she had summoned vanishing in an instant. Of course. It was not about her power, not anymore.

It was about his.

And she was the one who had reawakened it.

Desperate, she tried to stand, to run at him, but she remained helpless and frozen to the floor. She struggled, straining against bonds she could not see. Pain exploded at her temples.

Corien clucked his tongue. “Spare yourself, Eliana. Angelic chains are unbreakable.”

She tried to scream; he stifled her voice. In horrified silence, she watched as Simon, not three steps from her, raised his arms and began to pull thin, pale strands of light from the air. His brow furrowed only slightly, his posture impeccable.

Eliana blazed with anger as she watched him work. Once, she had thought his magic beautiful. The memory of his face, softened with wonder at his own power, scorched a furious path inside her, and for a single crystalline moment, she was wiped clean of all terror and knew nothing but the solid, sharp blade of her anger.

Once, she had sat beside him in the gardens of Willow and mended a scar on his chest. They had held each other, whispering of old wounds and what had been done to them. They were more than their wounds; they were more than their anger.

Once, she had awakened in him a power, and he had used it to send her to a time centuries past.

But this time was different.

The glowing threads Simon pulled from the air snapped at every tug. He struggled to fashion their floating scraps into a ring, but the faster he reached for them, the more quickly they dissolved, and soon they were gone entirely.

Sweat beaded on Simon’s brow. His blue eyes fixed on some distant point in the dim receiving hall, he reached for more light, but nothing came to him. The room was quiet. He was a man alone, arms trembling in empty air.

Simon let his hands fall. His shoulders were high and square. He did not look at Corien.

But Corien was looking at him, all amusement gone from his face. “Why have you stopped?”

“I cannot do it,” Simon replied tightly.

“Of course you can. You did it before. That’s why you’re here now, with me. You sent her back in time, and now you’re mine.” Something sharp flickered in Corien’s eyes. His cheekbones were white knives in the shadows. “Do it, Simon.”

Simon hesitated, then raised his arms once more, but after a long moment of strained silence, he cried out and fell to the floor, shuddering and pale. The air remained dark. Threadless.

Eliana’s head buzzed with terror. She tried to move away from him, but Corien’s mind held her fast.

“Again,” Corien said coolly.

Simon obeyed. The dark room ached with tense silence. Then, at last, he dropped to his hands and knees, heaving.

“Again.”

Kneeling, Simon raised his arms, every muscle straining as if in his hands he held a mountain.

Corien stood over him, watching without expression, and when Simon pushed himself to his feet at last and stalked a few paces away, breathing hard, still Corien watched him and said nothing.

Then his quiet black gaze fell on Eliana.

She tried to look away, but he did not allow her even a blink. Her eyes burned, and her lungs ached. She longed to gulp for air but could only suck in thin scraps of it. She tried to scream, and Corien’s will swallowed her voice.

“I see,” he muttered at last. He looked from her to Simon, then to her again. “I see.”

Simon turned, his eyes watery and red, his skin sallow. “Your Excellency, I apologize, I don’t know what’s happened—”

“I do.” Corien came to Eliana and stroked her cheek. “I think you’re nothing without her, Simon. And I think you’ve made her angry.”

Eliana stared back at him, triumph blooming like fire in her heart. But before she could try to speak, she fell abruptly into a thick fog.

Corien was everywhere and nowhere. She heard him whisper but could not see his face. She was being moved about like a doll, her legs carrying her against her will. She felt rough hands on her neck and arm, guiding her. She caught a glimpse of sunlight, a chamber of gold, a rustle of black fabric. Simon’s silhouette. Shadowed figures moving swiftly. The echo of Corien’s laughter. A clipped order: Make sure she eats. Make sure she sleeps.