Lyre stared at the ceiling, Clio’s voice echoing in his ears. I am not leaving without him. No one had ever cared about leaving him behind. No one had ever risked anything on his account. No one had ever saved him from anything in his entire life.

Yet this girl he barely knew was putting her life on the line to get him out—the one thing no one would ever do, not even Reed, who wanted him to live.

He blinked rapidly, confused by the unfamiliar sting in his eyes. His emotions were out of control. Exhaustion was making him stupid.

Like kissing Clio. That had been stupid. Because now the fire was churning deep inside, the dark instincts dragging him down, her taste on his lips making his mouth water. He hungered for her, the driving emptiness demanding to be filled. He couldn’t risk kissing her again.

He shook his head sharply, banishing the thought. It didn’t matter. That was a problem for his future self. First, he needed to survive the night.

Before Clio had spoken of taking him with them, he’d been agonizing over what the hell he was supposed to do. Dulcet wasn’t dead, which meant he would be thirsting for revenge in no time at all. That aside, their father’s judgment was looming. Reed had told Lyre he had to escape immediately, but with his strength so drained, he wasn’t sure he could walk, let alone fight. He wasn’t going anywhere. The best he could do was arm his wards and hope no one came for him before he recovered enough to defend himself.

But if Clio took him with her …

Something banged loudly and Lyre jolted in surprise. He turned his head.

Eryx stood in the bedroom doorway. Smiling, he closed the door with a quiet click.

Cold slipped through Lyre, and he propped himself up on one elbow, the muscles in his arm and back aching from the small movement. Eryx’s weight shifted as he prepared to step forward, and Lyre’s gaze darted toward the nightstand where his chains of spells and the KLOC sat.

With the lightning-fast movements of a trained fighter, Eryx had a knife in his hand and the blade pressed against Lyre’s throat before he could complete his reach for the chains.

“Keep your mouth shut,” the daemon said pleasantly, sliding the knife sideways. Skin parted beneath the deadly edge and wetness ran down Lyre’s neck. “One sound and we see how pretty you look with your throat slit.”

Eryx scooped up the silver clock. He turned it over in a cursory examination, then slipped it into his pocket. “I think my employer will find this very useful, especially the bit about wiping out all the magic in a city.”

Lyre didn’t say a word, all too aware of the dagger at his unprotected neck. His arm shook from holding up his weight, and his magic reserves were so low he’d be lucky to conjure a light, let alone cast an actual defensive spell.

Eryx lifted the dagger—and in the next instant, his other hand closed around Lyre’s throat. He shoved Lyre down onto the bed and leaned into the choke hold.

Lyre grabbed the daemon’s wrists, but he had no hope of breaking free. No magic. No strength. He couldn’t even make a sound, his windpipe crushed by Eryx’s weight.

“Too easy,” Eryx murmured. “You master weavers aren’t as tough as Clio made it seem. She bashed that other one’s head in with a box, and here you are, being strangled to death in your own bed. Pathetic.”

Lyre dug his fingers into the daemon’s wrists, unable to shift his grip. Black spots burst across his vision and buzzing filled his ears. As aching pain spread from his lungs into his body, he bared his teeth. He’d died how many times under Dulcet’s spell, and now he was going to die again?

“Lyre?” Clio called from the other side of the door, her footsteps thudding closer. “Lyre, did you close the—”

Eryx released Lyre as he spun to face the door, and dim light gleamed across the knife. Air rushed into Lyre’s lungs and violent coughing overtook him, convulsing his body and stealing his voice as he tried to cry out a warning.

The doorknob turned. Eryx lunged across the room, dagger held low, positioned for a lethal strike. Clutching his middle, Lyre scrabbled to pull himself up, a strangled croak rasping from his abused throat.

The door swung open, and Eryx thrust his dagger into the body on the other side. Blood sprayed across the floor. Lyre hung partway off the bed, his hand outstretched as though he could have reached across the distance and stopped the daemon’s strike.

Eryx yanked the dagger out of the woman’s chest. With shock stamped across her face, she dropped to her knees, revealing Clio standing behind her. Clio stared, her eyes glassy and wide.

Teeth bared in a vicious grin, Eryx shoved Kassia aside. She hit the wall and crumpled, weakly grasping at her chest.

“Always getting in my way, Kass,” he mocked. “But that was the last time.”

Clio stared at Eryx, at the bloody blade in his hand, then looked down at Kassia. Clio’s face was white and she wasn’t breathing. She was in shock. Eryx focused on her and he turned the dagger.

“Clio!” Lyre yelled.

Eryx lunged and Clio’s huge, beautiful summer-sky eyes plunged to pitch black. Her hand snapped out, and whatever spell she cast exploded against Eryx in a swirl of green light. He flew backward and smashed into the wall so hard his body punched a hole in the wood. He slumped down, shaking his head in a daze.

Just as fast as they’d darkened, Clio’s irises lightened to the color of stormy seas. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she threw herself down at Kassia’s side with an anguished wail.

Swearing, Lyre pulled himself up but fell off the bed. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he reached for his chain of spells on the nightstand, hoping desperately he had enough magic to trigger a weave.

Eryx climbed to his feet and took one furious step toward Clio, then jerked straight. He whipped his head around as though a soundless voice had called his name. With a nasty smile, he looked at the three daemons, then launched across the room, jumped over Kassia’s legs, and wheeled through the doorway. Lyre stretched his hand toward the wall to engage his wards and trap the daemon inside, but the door slammed before he got his fingers to the wood.

Clio didn’t react at all, hunched over Kassia with both hands on the woman’s chest and magic glowing under her palms.

Lyre swallowed down his heart and shut off his emotions. Since standing was too much effort, he crawled across the floor to kneel in front of Clio, Kassia between them. He placed his hands gently on top of Clio’s.

“Clio,” he whispered. “Stop.”

“N-n-n-no.” Her staring eyes were fixed on Kassia. “H-h-have to—”

“Clio.” He tightened his hands over hers. “It’s too late. She’s gone.”

“No. No, she’s not.” Clio’s head came up, the useless healing magic sputtering out. “She isn’t gone. She isn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Clio,” he whispered, sliding his thumb gently over her wet cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’s not gone.” Fresh tears spilled down her face. “She’s not. She’s not!”

He gathered his strength and pushed to his feet. When he tried to pull her off the floor, she resisted and he almost fell on her. Clenching his jaw and not allowing himself to falter again, he forced her up. The moment he gathered her into his arms, a screaming sob racked her entire body. She collapsed against him, and he staggered against the doorframe, holding her tight.

“He killed her,” she wept. “How could he? How could he kill his own cousin?”

He pressed his cheek against her hair and didn’t tell her that for some—for too many—blood ties meant nothing in the face of ambition. She didn’t need to hear that right now.

Ignoring the fatigue dragging at his limbs, he guided her out of the bedroom and into the main room, keeping her close with each step. Eryx had left with the KLOC and Lyre was in no condition to chase him down. For now, his priority was keeping himself and Clio safe. And that meant getting out of the house.

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he stepped back so he could look down at her. She lifted her face, tears shining on her cheeks, her eyes pools of torment and grief that wrenched at something deep inside him.

“Clio, we need to leave.”

“But Kassia—”

“She would want you to be safe. That’s most important.”

Clio sucked in a breath that shuddered through her small frame from head to toe. She rubbed the tears off her face, then nodded.

“I need to get my spells,” he told her. “Then we run for it.”

She lifted the chain from around her neck, lined with his best defensive weavings and the key for the KLOC. He stopped her before she could remove it.

“Hang on to that one for me, okay?” He tucked the chain under the neckline of her shirt. “I have lots more that—”

The front door swung open. Lyre’s head snapped around—and then the spell hit him.

The room reeled and he crashed into the kitchen table. The legs broke and the entire thing collapsed, Lyre crumpled on top of it. Hot liquid ran down his forehead and into his eyes, blinding him.

Someone hauled him up. His vision blurred, then steadied, bringing the face in front of his into focus.

Ariose’s eyes were chips of topaz, hard and ruthless.

His brother spun him around and pushed him down on his knees. Facing the rest of the room, Lyre lifted his throbbing head. Clio was on her knees too, a hand pressed to her temple. Standing in a half circle in front of her were three more daemons. Three more incubi.

Madrigal stood on the right, Andante stood on the left, and in the center, Lyceus regarded Clio with that calculating stare that never, ever faltered.

“Check the rest of the house,” Lyceus commanded, his attention on Clio.

Andante obeyed their father’s order without question, sweeping across the main room and down the short hall to check the bedroom and bathroom. The house was small, so he was back in only a minute.

“One of the bodyguards is dead in the bedroom. Stab wound.” He glanced at Clio, clearly wondering who the killer was. “The other isn’t here.”

“And the ‘secret’ spell?” Madrigal asked. “Is that here?”

Lyre kept his expression blank. Was Madrigal referring to the KLOC? How would he know about it? Lyre remembered Clio telling him she’d knocked Madrigal unconscious—had he witnessed her stealing the spell from Lyre’s workroom?

His brothers couldn’t know about it. Chrysalis could never know it existed. Hades could never know.

“Where is your other guard?” Andante asked Clio.

She pulled her head up with effort, fresh blood staining her hair. “I don’t know. He betrayed us and fled.”

“Where is the weave you stole from Lyre’s workroom?” Madrigal demanded.

Clio pressed her lips together and said nothing.

“I can sense the residue of foreign magic, but the source isn’t here.” Andante looked at their father. “Lyre knows far better ways to kill people than with daggers, so I suspect she’s speaking the truth about her companion’s betrayal. If he fled alone and the spell is not here, then—”

Madrigal hissed. “Then the other bodyguard must have it.”

Lyceus considered Clio, then turned away. “Andante, find out what the spell is. I will begin the search for the bodyguard.”

Without a backward glance, he strode out of the house and into the heavy darkness.

Ariose grabbed Lyre’s hair and bent his head back. “So, brother, care to tell us what special weaving you’ve been hiding? Something that would leave such a fascinating residue throughout your house?”

“I’ve never sensed anything like it,” Andante murmured.

Clio twisted toward Lyre and their gazes met, reflecting their shared despair. They’d been captured and there was no escape. He had no magic and no weavings, and even if he did, he was powerless to use them. And Clio … what could Clio do against incubus master weavers?

Her hopelessness and grief ripped at him. Unable to bear it, he had to close his eyes.

Ariose yanked on his hair again. “Well, Lyre? Will you talk, or do we need to force it out of you?”

He clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t say a word to those bastards. They couldn’t know what he had created. The secret of the KLOC would die with him.

“Don’t waste your time,” Madrigal crooned. “There’s a much easier source of information right here.”

Lyre’s eyes flew open. Madrigal stared at Clio and his irises were already darkening. She scrambled backward on her knees, panic paling her face.

“I can make her tell us everything,” he purred. “We don’t need her for anything else, so any … damage … won’t matter.”

Andante glanced at Ariose, then shrugged. “Be quick about it.”

“That’s no fun,” Madrigal whispered. His night-black eyes burned with awakening lust. “But I can play with her more later, yes?”

Sharp fear cut into Lyre. No. No, Madrigal couldn’t do that to her. She was too inexperienced, too innocent. That amount of aphrodesia could tear her mind apart.

Her gaze was already fogging as his seduction magic infected her.

Then Madrigal’s body shimmered. He was dropping glamour. He was going to hit her with the full destructive power an incubus could unleash on another person’s very soul.

Lyre lunged forward so violently he tore from Ariose’s grip. He slammed into Clio, knocking her over, and his hand clamped over the back of her head. With the last dregs of magic he possessed, he sent a rough bolt of power into her skull. She went limp under him.

Ariose grabbed him and threw him backward into the table’s remains. Lyre slumped back, not even attempting to get up. Clio lay on the floor, unconscious. He’d used the magical equivalent of hitting her over the head, not a spell they could remove. Until she woke, her mind would be safe from Madrigal and the other incubi.

Madrigal knelt beside her, prodding her head and pulling her eyelids back.

“Unconscious. Probably for a few hours.” He turned a sneer on Lyre. “Ruining my fun again, brother?”

Andante stepped up to the edge of the table. Ariose joined him on one side, Madrigal on the other. His three brothers stared down at him with identical, merciless eyes.

“Well, Lyre,” Andante murmured. “If we can’t interrogate her, I guess we’ll have to make do with you.”

As he lifted his hand, magic sparking over his fingers in the beginnings of a cast, Lyre closed his eyes. Don’t be a fool, Reed had begged him.

He couldn’t help it. He’d been a fool his entire life. Why change now?

But still, he wished Dulcet had done a proper job killing him. It would have worked out better for everyone, himself included.