Lyre’s back hit a hard surface. Hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him down until he was sitting, then the blindfold was pulled off his head.

Daemons circled him. The chimera guards had shifted into glamour, their uniforms replaced by unremarkable dark clothes. They didn’t hold weapons, but all it would take was a quick shift out of glamour to rearm themselves.

The nymph prince stood directly across from Lyre, arms folded as he surveyed his prisoner. He, too, had donned his glamour. His stylish black coat and slacks gave him the look of a young, wealthy businessman about to sit down at a fancy restaurant with some clients.

Lyre glanced past them, trying to get a handle on where he was. A human city, obviously, which he’d known by the stench of garbage and damp pavement. They were in an abandoned park, surrounded by dead or dying trees with a few yellow leaves clinging to their branches. Rotting wood benches lined the cracked pavement, and across from him was an old fountain, no water flowing from it. A war memorial, as broken and dirty as the rest of the park, acted as his backrest, the once polished surface carved with hundreds of names, now illegible and forgotten.

Surrounding the park, the shadows of old buildings with elegant architecture were visible through the trees. Behind them, skyscrapers rose—including a distant pale tower that looked white even in the darkness. It was familiar and unmistakable: the Ra embassy.

So they were back in Brinford, where all the assassins and bounty hunters were waiting for him. Lovely.

With a clatter of wood on stone, a chimera guard dragged over a simple wooden chair and set it down behind Bastian. The prince sat and crossed his legs at the knee, getting comfortable.

Steepling his fingers, he studied Lyre. “Shall we begin?”

“One thing first.” Lyre shifted uncomfortably with his arms bound behind his back from wrists to elbows. “What’s with the chair?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That chair.” Lyre pointed at it with his chin. “Where’d it come from? Why do you have a chair in the middle of an abandoned park? Do you perform interrogations here so often that you keep a stash of furniture handy?”

“I prefer to be prepared for all occasions,” Bastian replied coolly. “From this point onward, I will ask questions and you will answer.”

“And if I don’t answer?”

“Then my guards will persuade you to be more cooperative.”

Standing just behind Bastian’s left shoulder, Eryx flashed an eager grin at Lyre.

When Bastian first captured him, Lyre had assumed the prince would hide him somewhere in or near the nymph city, giving Clio plenty of time to arrange a rescue. He hadn’t expected the prince to whisk him right out of Iridian territory. On Earth, there would be no rescue.

He sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

“Start asking, then,” he said dully.

Bastian folded his hands into a more relaxed position. “We will begin with the clock spell.”

“Kinetic Lodestone Obversion Construct.”

“What?”

“That’s what it’s called. KLOC for short.”

Bastian’s eyes narrowed.

“Kinetic means moving parts,” Lyre explained, oozing as much condescension as he could while sitting on the ground with his arms bound behind his back. “I designed it to clear remnant weaves from lodestones, hence the next part of the name. Obversion means—”

“What does the spell do?”

“It obverts magic. That’s why I called it the Obversion Constr—”

“The spell consumes magic. That is not the same as obversion.”

“Obversion is a more accurate word.” Lyre arched an eyebrow. “It means to turn something into its opposite, which is what the KLOC does. When it contacts other magic, it converts that energy into more of itself.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning it turns regular weaves into … shadow weaves.”

“Shadow weaves,” Bastian repeated.

Lyre nodded. He wasn’t keen on sharing anything about the KLOC, but he would reveal enough tidbits to make Bastian think he was being open about the spell. The information wasn’t any more dangerous than what Bastian would have learned from Eryx or deduced from his own examination of the clock.

“What is a shadow weave?”

“Well, you looked at the KLOC, right?”

“Of course. You mean the dark tint to the weaves. How did you create it?”

Lyre rolled his shoulders, the muscles aching from too long in the binding. “I’m not sure.”

The prince scrutinized him, debating how much he wanted to push. So far, Lyre was cooperating and Bastian probably wouldn’t apply significant pressure over one evasive answer.

“How does the spell work?” he asked.

Lyre relaxed against the wall. No torture yet. Hooray. “Once triggered, the initial outflux of the shadow weave will obvert any magic it contacts, at which point the converted magic will undergo an outflux as well, expanding by a factor relative to the input energy. If it contacts more magic, it will obvert and outflux again, continuing the chain reaction until it ceases to encounter any more fuel and exhausts its reach.”

Eryx blinked stupidly and looked at Bastian.

The prince drummed his fingers on his knee. “So, in essence, this spell doesn’t consume magic so much as transforms it into more of the shadow weave, perpetuating its existence … and its reach.”

Hmm. A deceitful, conniving, and intelligent prince. He understood the nature of the spell better than Lyre had expected.

“How fast is the chain reaction?” Bastian asked.

“Up to a radius of a hundred feet, its near instantaneous. It may slow as it expands, but I haven’t tested it on a larger scale.”

“What kind of magic can it obvert?”

“All kinds.” Lyre hesitated, but Eryx had already overheard the next part. “From embedded weavings to a daemon’s power reserves.”

“What happens to a daemon when their power is consumed?”

“Beyond having their magic completely wiped out? Physical weakness, severe fatigue, loss of glamour.” He shrugged. “It isn’t fun.”

Bastian considered his next question. “Where does water come into play?”

“The fluid resistance slows the shadow weave’s expansion, reducing its reach.”

“So you used the KLOC in a bathtub to limit it.”

Lyre nodded, tension threading through his muscles. Bastian had asked all the easy questions, and he would soon run out of queries that Lyre was willing to answer.

“How would I safely use the KLOC?”

“Put it in water. The more water, the better.”

“How would I safely use it for a purpose?” the prince clarified impatiently.

“If you want to clear lodestones, put them in the water with the KLOC.”

Bastian observed him for a long minute. “How do you activate it?”

A sharp breath slipped from Lyre. There it was. The question he couldn’t answer.

When he said nothing, Bastian straightened. “Lyre, I recommend you continue to cooperate. I will have the answer regardless.”

Again, he held his silence. What could he say? There was no plausible lie for how to activate the KLOC that Bastian wouldn’t see through.

The prince leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “This has been nearly pleasant so far, Lyre. Consider my earlier proposal. Working for me would not be taxing or demeaning. I would treat you well. You would have reasonable freedoms.”

“I don’t consider basic autonomy a ‘reasonable freedom.’”

“It would be a better life than what you’ve come from. Would you rather die here in this reeking hole of a human city?”

Lyre met the prince’s ice-blue eyes. “Actually, I would.”

Bastian sat back. “You will answer no more questions, will you? Why did you answer any of them?”

Lyre twitched his shoulders in a shrug. “Did I tell you anything you hadn’t already guessed?”

Bastian’s lips thinned. “I see. Well, we will begin with the question of how to activate the KLOC. Once you answer it, we will move on to the next.”

He waved at Eryx.

Grin returning, Eryx walked up to Lyre, grabbed him by the arm, and hauled him up. The other guards closed in, and together they pulled Lyre past Bastian to the fountain. Two tiers in the center stood about eight feet tall and the main basin was a large square with high walls. Murky water from the recent rainfall filled the basin, reflecting the city lights.

Lyre’s stomach dropped sickeningly, then someone behind him pulled the blindfold back over his eyes. He tensed, unable to stop himself from resisting as they dragged him over the sidewalk, then pushed him down. His stomach hit the basin’s lip, crushing his diaphragm and ramming the air out of his lungs.

A hand grabbed his hair, and before he could catch his breath, they shoved his head into the cold water.

* * *

Clio clutched the interior door handle and wondered if she should have driven the car herself. If she died in a wreck, who would save Lyre?

Piper grinned fiercely, clutching the steering wheel as the car tore through the streets and dodged garbage. There were so few running vehicles left in the city that other traffic wasn’t a concern, but Clio still feared for her life.

“Is the signal still straight ahead?” Piper asked, slamming on the brakes to whip around a dumpster sticking out into the street.

“Yes,” Clio gasped breathlessly, gripping the chest strap of her seatbelt. “You should slow down. We should approach cautiously.”

Piper let off on the gas pedal, her young face alight. “Not much farther, right?”

“Not much.” The pulse in Clio’s head was growing stronger and stronger, coming from a point dead ahead. “We’re almost there.”

Slowing the car, Piper adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. “How are you going to save the incubus guy?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Can you do it all by yourself?”

Seeing exactly where the girl’s line of questioning was headed, Clio nodded firmly. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

She shot Piper a stern look. “The daemons who have my friend are expert magic users. You can’t help.”

Hurt flickered through Piper’s eyes and her face fell.

“I’m sure you can fight,” Clio added quickly. “But you’d need a lot of magic to stand any chance against these daemons.”

Piper flexed her jaw. “How did you know I don’t have magic?”

“I … I can tell.”

“I’m a haemon,” she muttered tersely. “I should have magic.”

Clio didn’t know what to say. The girl might be a haemon, but her aura was far from normal.

The road ended at a T-intersection, and directly ahead was a thicket of trees with a paved walkway that disappeared into the darkness.

Piper stopped the car and squinted at the park. “Should I go around?”

“No.” The tracking signal pounded in her skull. “This is close enough.”

Piper reached for the key in the ignition. “I can—”

Clio grabbed the girl’s hand, stopping her from shutting off the engine. “You will turn around and drive home. You don’t want to lose your apprenticeship, do you?”

Alarm flashed in her gaze as though she’d never considered the possibility.

Clio unbuckled and pushed the door open. “Straight back to the Consulate, okay?”

“Okay.” Piper leaned sideways to watch Clio climb out. “Be careful, Clio.”

“I will.” With a reassuring smile, she swung the door shut and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Piper steered the car in a tight U-turn, then the engine revved as she took off back down the road. Clio waited to make sure the girl didn’t stop and turn around again, then she faced the night-swathed park.

Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. Touching her throat, she cast a cloaking spell over herself, then started forward at a brisk walk. The path zigzagged through the trees, silent and empty. The tracking spell called her onward, hammering so loudly in her head that she almost wanted to deactivate it. But not yet.

She reached the edge of the trees as something splashed loudly, followed by hacking, wet coughs. Ahead, a memorial wall blocked her view. Barely breathing, she crept to the edge and peeked around it.

The first thing she saw was Bastian’s back. He sat in a wooden chair that was completely out of place in the decaying park, facing a crumbling water fountain. Six daemons with red hair and tattoos stood at the edge of the fountain, and she didn’t need her asper to know they were his chimera bodyguards.

Slumped at their feet beside the fountain was Lyre, a blindfold over his eyes and water dripping off his chin as he coughed violently. Convulsions wrenched his body as though he’d inhaled an entire bucket of water.

“How much longer, Lyre?” Bastian asked, his calm voice painfully familiar. “Next round, I’ll double the time.”

Lyre continued to cough up water.

When he quieted, Bastian rubbed his chin. “You are exceptionally stubborn. Tell me how to activate the KLOC or we will continue.”

Lyre sucked in an unsteady breath as though to speak, but instead he spat on the ground in Bastian’s direction. A clear answer.

Bastian waved his hand and leaned back in the chair, looking bored. The chimeras grabbed Lyre by the arms, spun him around, and shoved his face into the fountain.

Lightheadedness swept through Clio. Lyre writhed, his arms bound behind his back and his feet scraping helplessly at the ground. A guard snickered cruelly and rammed his knee into Lyre’s back, pinning him to the basin’s edge.

Bastian sighed. “This is tedious. I didn’t expect him to hold out so long.”

Clio didn’t even realize she was moving until she’d burst out from behind the memorial. She hadn’t decided to act, but her body was in motion and the only thing in her head was a raging fury so hot that it was like a poison flooding her body.

Focused on Lyre, the men didn’t notice her until she was almost on top of them. The prince lurched up from his chair and three chimeras whipped to face her, but she had already reached Bastian, her arm pulling back.

She struck him across the face with all her strength.

He staggered, and then a blast of magic from a guard hit her in the chest, throwing her backward. She landed hard and two daemons sprang at her, their glamours vanishing and swords jumping into their hands.

“Stop.”

The chimeras halted at Bastian’s command, the points of their weapons aimed at her chest. She pushed up onto her elbows, too angry to feel fear. At the fountain, the other three guards hauled Lyre out of the water and dumped him on the ground. He retched and coughed, shaking violently.

How long had they’d been drowning him in that water over and over? Tedious, Bastian had called it. Callously torturing another daemon was tedious?

She turned her enraged focus back to Bastian—and the daemon standing beside him. Eryx grinned delightedly. Her fury cracked at the sight of him, grief and helpless anguish rising through her, but she choked it back.

“Clio,” Bastian murmured. The side of his face was reddening but he didn’t acknowledge that she’d hit him. He flicked a glance at Eryx. “Check if she came alone.”

Eryx sped away into the trees.

“How did you find us?” Bastian asked her.

“If I don’t answer, will you drown me in the fountain as well?”

His mouth thinned. “I would like to know.”

She stuck her hand in her pocket, pulled out the tracking spell, and threw the gem at him. He watched it clatter on the crumbling pavement, then peered at Lyre with his brow furrowed.

She glanced at Lyre as well, squinting with her asper as she wondered how he’d hidden his spell for so long. All she could see was his aura.

Bastian made a soft sound of surprise. “He swallowed it?”

Lyre lifted his head, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a humorless grin. “Surprise, asshole.”

Irritation flickered across Bastian’s face. He turned to Clio again. “I’m pleased to see you alive and unharmed.”

“Are you?” Ignoring the chimeras and their weapons, she got to her feet. “Are you equally pleased that Eryx murdered Kassia in a cowardly surprise attack, or that he left me to die in Asphodel?”

“His methods may not be what I would choose, but Eryx is a loyal servant.”

“Loyalty is important, isn’t it?” she sneered. “You like everyone to be loyal to you, no matter how many lies you have to tell them to win them over.”

“So you have spoken to the king.” Bastian sank back into his chair, calm and composed as though they were discussing their holiday plans. “What did you learn?”

“That you’ve lied about everything!”

“‘Everything’ is an exaggeration.”

“You lied to me about the threat of a Ra invasion! You tricked me into leaving Irida! You sent me to get military spells from Chrysalis when there isn’t even a war!”

He smiled faintly. “But there will be a war, Clio.”

She balled her hands into fists, trembling with fury. “You’re a filthy liar. Why should I believe anything you say?”

“I rearranged the truth, nothing more. Would you like to discuss this, or would you rather rage and shout?”

Anger spiraled through her at his patronizing tone. She sucked in air, fighting for control. Breathing deeply, she unclenched her hands. “You owe me an explanation, Bastian. For everything.”

He appraised her as though analyzing an interesting specimen in a laboratory. “You told me many times over the last two years that you wanted to help protect our homeland. That is what you’ve been doing, Clio.”

“But there is no threat—”

“There is very much a threat, one that my father and his predecessors have ignored.” He tapped a finger on his knee as though to emphasize a point. “Centuries ago, Ra forced a trade agreement on Irida. They made us purchase our own sovereignty, and we continue to pay for it centuries later.”

She glanced from her brother to Lyre, who was on his knees beside the fountain with three guards surrounding him. “I don’t understand.”

“My father is too fearful of conflict to resist, but I am not. Before the trade agreement is next renewed, I will end Ra’s dominion over us.” He rose to his feet and slid his hand into his pocket. “Ra sees us as weak, but I will prove otherwise. You have helped me prepare for that day, and I am almost ready to forge a new fate for our kingdom.”

He withdrew his hand to reveal Lyre’s spelled clock, its gears glittering with jewels. “You did very well in Chrysalis. Far better than I had hoped.”

“You left me there to die,” she choked.

“Eryx’s choice.” Bastian ran his thumb along the clock’s edge. “No single life is more important than our goal. This is about saving Irida.”

“Saving Irida from a trade agreement?” She struggled to gather her strength, searching for the hot fury that had died beneath his cold logic. “I would have gone to Chrysalis even if you hadn’t lied about a Ra invasion. Why did you send me to Earth?”

“To protect you. It was my mistake … I shouldn’t have exposed you to danger by bringing you into the palace in the first place. It wasn’t safe for you, Clio.”

Her hands clenched as she searched his face. His sincerity sounded perfectly earnest …

“No, Clio.” Lyre’s hoarse voice startled her. His shoulders were hunched, his head hanging, the blindfold dripping water. “He brought you into the palace to show you the thing you wanted most—a family—then he took it away. He did it to make you dependent on him. He held your dearest desire hostage against you.”

Clio stared at Lyre, then turned back to Bastian. His expression seemed blank but his eyes had narrowed and his mouth had tightened. Anger. Displeasure.

Pain ricocheted through her chest as her heart broke piece by piece.

“Was that your plan?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “From the very beginning? You wanted to use me all along … your secret mimic.”

“You did well, Clio. You learned the skills you needed quickly, and you were ready to enter Chrysalis sooner than I had anticipated.” Bastian hefted the clock like it was a well-earned prize.

She pushed her anguish aside. “You can’t use that spell. It’s too dangerous. You can’t control how far it will spread or how much magic it will eat.”

“Does that matter? If unleashed in the correct place, its uncontrolled spread will work in my favor.”

“But—”

“I will purge Ra’s shadow from over our kingdom, Clio. I will bring Irida back to its former strength and glory. The question is …” He fixed his cool stare on her. “Where do you stand?”

“What?”

“You have proven yourself resourceful and resilient. Your loyalty has … strayed somewhat, but it is nothing I am unwilling to forgive. You’ve proven your commitment to protecting Irida.” He walked toward her, stopping a few feet away, and he smiled—the gentle smile of welcome that had won her over so easily when they’d first met. “Will you join me in the battle to free our people from Ra’s shadow?”

Her throat constricted until it ached.

“I have used you,” he admitted softly, “and I regret that I have hurt you, but this is for Irida. Help me protect our people, Clio. Fight for them at my side, not as a tool but as a valued ally.”

The pain in her shattered heart turned to icy flames. “Free Lyre first.”

Bastian’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Let Lyre go. Prove you’re better than Ra and Hades and the other power-hungry warlords who do nothing but hurt and oppress whoever they think they can control.”

Images flashed through her mind—Lyre in chains in Asphodel’s basement; Reed with his eyes shadowed by helplessness; Ash covered in blood and bruises as he walked unresisting into a prison cell.

She raised an unsteady hand and pointed at Lyre. “Prove it, Bastian. If you won’t free him, then you’re no better than Hades and you have no right to call yourself a prince of Irida.”

“Clio …” Bastian sighed. “He is far too useful, and too dangerous, to let go.”

She lowered her arm, the last of her hope crumbling like bitter ash. “I defended you to Kassia,” she whispered brokenly, “but she was right all along.”

Bastian’s face hardened with annoyance. Then a different voice spoke right behind her, its familiar arrogance triggering a cascade of loathing.

“I told you she was too stupid to understand.”

She gasped as a man’s arm clamped around her torso, then the cold edge of a blade pressed against her throat.

“Two for two,” Eryx whispered in her ear.

Bastian dropped back into his chair. “Take the blindfold off the incubus.”

A chimera ripped the cloth strip off Lyre’s head. His eyes, black with fury, jumped straight to Clio and he snarled at the sight of Eryx with a knife at her throat.

Bastian snapped his fingers, drawing Lyre’s attention.

“Now, Lyre, let us try something different. My patience has worn thin, and I would like to proceed without further delay.” He tilted the KLOC, the gems glittering in the moonlight. “Tell me how to activate the spell or Eryx will slit Clio’s throat. You have to the count of ten.”