“Ten,” Bastian began, his voice cool and emotionless.

Lyre clenched his teeth so hard that pain shot up his jaw. Bloody hell.

“Nine.”

Things just kept getting worse. His gaze darted from the prince to Clio, her eyes wide and Eryx’s dagger at her throat.

“Eight.”

He wished he could go back in time and destroy the tracking spell. He wished he’d never given it to her.

“Seven.”

He’d thought she would bring help—palace guards or something. He’d never imagined she would come alone, bursting in without a plan.

“Six.”

Damn that prince. He’d twisted Clio in his emotional games for so long she probably hadn’t considered the possibility he would turn on her like this.

“Five.”

To someone else, maybe her actions would seem willfully stupid, but he understood. Even after everything Lyceus had done to him, part of him still wanted to please his father. It had taken years of outright abuse to crush the ever-kindling hope that the person he most wanted to love and protect him wasn’t actually that bad.

“Four.”

Clio was learning the hardest lesson of all. Her brother would never love her. He had never cared about her.

“Three.”

She had refused to submit to him. She was standing on her own two feet—and therefore, she was useless to him.

“Two.”

And now he would kill her.

“One.”

The blade gleamed in Eryx’s hand. Lyre tore his gaze away from Clio and focused on Bastian.

“Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Clio gasped in horror. “No, Lyre, you can’t—”

Eryx clamped his hand over her mouth and pressed the knife into her throat. A trickle of blood ran down her neck.

“An excellent decision, Lyre,” Bastian complimented.

He bared his teeth. “Get that knife off Clio.”

“No, I think the knife will remain where it is in case you’re inclined to be difficult again.”

Lyre growled silently. “Unbind me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“If you want the key to the KLOC, then unbind me.”

Bastian’s eyes narrowed, then he nodded at a guard. “One suspicious move and Eryx will cut her throat.”

Clio made a furious sound through Eryx’s hand. A chimera snapped the magical bindings on Lyre’s arms and pain shot through his shoulders as the strain on his muscles released. He sucked in an unsteady breath and climbed to his feet.

“Well?” Bastian asked softly.

“I’m going to drop glamour—briefly. Don’t overreact.” When Bastian nodded his permission, Lyre let his glamour fall. Tingles rushed over his skin, and as power washed over him, he let a touch of aphrodesia spill out of his aura. He grabbed the chain around his neck—protected in his daemon shape—and snapped the silver skeleton key off.

He pulled his glamour back into place. He could sense the faint presences of the chimeras standing around him—too close for their own good and unaware he’d begun to ensnare them.

He glanced once at the key he had carried since the day he’d realized how dangerous the KLOC was, then tossed it to Bastian.

The prince caught it, his gaze flicking over the ruby in the bit. “What is this?”

“The key for the clock.”

Bastian’s jaw flexed as he realized Lyre’s reference to a key hadn’t been figurative. “Explain.”

“Insert the key in the back of the clock and turn it counterclockwise to wind one minute.” Lyre let more aphrodesia leak out while the nymph’s attention was on the KLOC. “When you remove the key, the second hand will count down. In sixty seconds, the spell will activate.”

Bastian flipped the clock over to check the back. “That seems needlessly complicated.”

“Tell you what. When you design never-before-conceived magic, you can craft the trigger however you like.”

Ignoring that, the prince continued his examination. “I see. This explains why I had such difficulty understanding the weaving or discerning a trigger method. Fascinating.”

Lyre was about to slip more aphrodesia into his captors when Bastian inserted the key into the clock’s back.

“What are you doing?”

Bastian glanced up at Lyre’s sharp tone. “Testing it. You don’t expect me to take your word, do you?”

“You can’t use it here.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you understand how easy it is to lose control of the spell? If it touches our magic, it could spread for—I don’t even know how far, but—”

“There’s water in the fountain,” Bastian interrupted dismissively. “I chose this location for more than one reason.”

“It’s too risky,” Lyre insisted. “Even I don’t know its exact range, in or out of water. If you misjudge—”

“Why would it concern you if everyone here has their magic devoured? It will hardly make your situation worse.”

Lyre snapped his mouth shut. Shit.

“You look nervous, Lyre,” Bastian observed silkily. “Why does your spell frighten you? Have you omitted information I should know?”

Lyre let out a rough exhalation. He didn’t want to reveal how catastrophic the KLOC could be, but he couldn’t allow Bastian to use it carelessly. Lyre using it on himself in Asphodel had been insanely dangerous as it was.

“The shadow weave infects any magic it touches,” he growled unhappily. “Any magic.”

“So you’ve said. Your point?”

Lyre ground his teeth. “Ley lines are magic.”

Bastian stilled. “Are you suggesting this spell could obvert a ley line?”

“I don’t know, but are you willing to take the chance? Ley lines are a planet’s arteries. If the shadow weave touches even one ley line, it might spread to them all. It could wipe them out.”

Bastian glanced at the clock. His expression should have been terrified, but instead it was thoughtful.

“We can jump from one world’s ley lines to another’s,” Lyre snarled, urgent demand in his voice. “What if the shadow weave can reach through the Void? You could wipe out the magic in all three realms at once. Every ley line, every daemon, every magical creature. All magic gone in one sweep.”

The chimeras standing around him shifted nervously, but Bastian was still considering the clock like it was a damn lottery ticket.

“You’re holding a doomsday spell, you fool!” Lyre yelled. “You can’t use it! You can’t ever risk it touching a ley line!”

Bastian tilted his head thoughtfully. “If it’s so potentially devastating, why didn’t you destroy it?”

“It absorbs any magic that touches it. I don’t know how to destroy it.”

The prince balanced the clock on his palm. “There are no ley lines anywhere near here.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Lyre jerked his head toward the skyscrapers beyond the park. “The Ra embassy isn’t that far. How much magic is in there? Enough for the shadow weave to cover the whole city? All it would take is a few daemons in the wrong place for the shadow weave to make the jump to the nearest ley line.”

“That is extremely unlikely.” Bastian inserted the key in the clock again. “We take great risks every day, and this one is slimmer than most.”

Lyre lunged forward but the guards grabbed him. One of them bent his arms behind his back, trapping him in place.

“Um, Prince Bastian?” Eryx pulled the knife a few inches from Clio’s throat. “Not that I want to agree with the incubus mongrel, but maybe you should test that spell under more controlled circumstances.”

“Why do you say that?”

“That bastard hasn’t lost his cool over anything else.” Eryx squinted at Lyre. “But now he’s scared. If he’s freaking out over this, I don’t think we want to fool around.”

Lyre held his breath, waiting to see how Bastian would react to words of caution from his right-hand man.

The prince pursed his lips, then sighed. “I abandoned caution when I left Irida without leave. I can’t afford further delay. Now that we have begun, to pause would be to invite defeat.”

A sickening feeling sucked at Lyre’s innards, and he looked at Clio. Eryx’s hand still covered her mouth, his dagger hovering a scant two inches from her throat. Her eyebrows scrunched together, and her stormy eyes moved from Bastian to Lyre.

They stared at each other for a moment that lasted an eternity, unspoken words passing between them. Bastian would risk everything in unleashing the shadow weave—and Lyre would risk everything to stop him.

Even though his next move would likely mean Clio’s death.

He tore his stare away from her and let his focus sink inward. As Bastian turned his attention to the clock, Lyre ripped his arms out of the chimera’s grip. Then he dropped his glamour and slammed the full force of his aphrodesia into the daemons surrounding him.

* * *

Clio stared into Lyre’s black eyes. She knew. She knew he was about to act—and that her survival was in her own hands.

Eryx had shifted the blade away from her neck when he’d cautioned Bastian against using the clock. She couldn’t believe Bastian had disregarded Eryx’s warning. Eryx embodied reckless arrogance, so if he felt caution was needed, how could Bastian ignore that?

But the prince was ignoring it, and she focused on getting through the next thirty seconds alive. She twisted her palm toward Eryx’s torso behind her.

In a surge of movement, Lyre lunged free from his captors and dropped his glamour. His aphrodesia hit her like a punch to the chest but she stayed focused and unleashed her cast. The simple spell slammed into Eryx’s lower belly, flinging him backward. She ducked away from his dagger but it sliced across her cheek.

Eryx shot up as fast as he’d fallen. She whirled on him, hands raised. His dagger shone red with her blood as he flicked a glance away from her.

She dared to look away at the same time. Lyre was out of glamour, his fists bristling with throwing knives. Two chimeras stood unmoving, caught in his aphrodesia, and the other three were backing away as they also dropped glamour.

Lyre flicked a blade in the air, caught it, and whipped it into the face of an enthralled chimera. The daemon pitched over backward, the knife protruding from his eye socket.

“Take him down but don’t kill him,” Eryx barked at his men. His crimson eyes, darkening to black, swung back to her. “I’ll deal with the girl.”

She widened her stance and slid sideways, bringing Bastian into her peripheral vision. But he hadn’t moved. Holding the KLOC, he stood in front of his stupid chair and watched Lyre fight.

Just her and Eryx, then.

“I kind of wish things had turned out differently,” the chimera said, his lips pulling into a cruel grin. “I would have liked to strangle you to death. I imagined it so many times while we were in Asphodel.”

“Strangling sounds like your style,” she agreed, curling her spread fingers like claws. “It suits a coward.”

Shimmers washed over him as he dropped glamour. Goat-like horns sprouted from his head and a long tail snapped out behind him. Weapons were strapped to his body, and his grin widened to show pointed canines as he drew a second long dagger.

She should have been afraid. She should have been quaking with terror, but rage and anguish pumped through her veins. He had killed Kassia, and she had no room for fear. Only hate.

She dropped her glamour as Eryx sprang at her. Lunging backward, she flung out simultaneous blasts. He rammed right through them, a shield glowing across his chest, protecting his vitals while leaving his weapons unrestricted.

Spinning away, she began two more spells. He came in fast and she ducked. His dagger whipped across the space where her throat had been, and he skidded on the pavement, tail lashing for balance.

Fast. He was too fast. Nymphs were quick and agile, but that wouldn’t give her much of an advantage over him.

She flung a pointed green dart. It hit his shield and shattered it, and she threw her second spell right behind it. He lurched away and the bladed disk glanced off his shoulder, shredding his leather armor.

“That was a mean spell, Clio.” He flipped his dagger over and hurled it at her.

She cast a hasty shield and deflected the weapon. Eryx charged in, his second knife flashing toward her chest. She dove for the ground and tucked into a roll, barely clearing his weapon. The blade hit the pavement in a burst of sparks.

Still rolling, she snapped a gem off the decorative belt around her waist and started to weave. She shot to her feet, her other hand contorting as she began a complex cast.

Pulling another dagger so he again wielded two, Eryx lunged for her. She cast the powerful bubble shield she’d learned at Chrysalis.

With a snap of his tail, Eryx darted around her, dug his feet into the ground, and launched at her from behind. He slammed into her, the physical hit bowling her over even with the shield spell. She crashed down and rolled again, losing her shield.

Pain seared across her upper arm as his dagger grazed her flesh. Hand clenching, she flung the gemstone at his face.

The brand-new weave erupted into crackling electricity that rushed over his body. He fell to his knees, paralyzed by the binding, and she lurched back to her feet, breathing hard. He was immobilized. Raising her hand, she started to cast again.

Green light flashed.

A blazing orb struck Eryx in the back. Green light washed over him and her binding spell dissolved. He lunged to his feet, and a dozen paces behind him, Bastian turned back to watch Lyre’s struggle with the other chimeras.

Eryx charged her, his daggers whirling in his hands, and magic shimmered over them. He channeled fast, simple spells down the blades—too smart to try to out-magic a mimic.

He attacked hard and fast, giving her no time to cast anything but shields. As he circled on dexterous feet and she frantically defended, fatigue pierced her intense focus. After her desperate journey from Irida’s capital to Brinford, she was tiring too quickly. Her leg muscles cramped as she retreated from Eryx’s flurry of attacks.

As she spun around to keep Eryx in front of her, gold light flickered in her peripheral vision. Lyre’s aura.

Clenching her jaw, she slapped one hand to her chest and cast a shield with the other. Heat washed over her as she focused on the color, the taste, the feel of Lyre’s aura—almost as familiar to her now as a nymph’s aura.

Power rose through her. Fixing her eyes on Eryx’s, she unleashed her new aphrodesia.