In the yew grove, I scaled the rowan—an ancient, gnarled tree with a single silver branch at the top. A gift from the Old Gods.

From a window, I’d watched as Adonis had led my friends out into the forest. Was it stupid to hope that Adonis would keep his word? I hadn’t wanted to seem to desperate by demanding details from him.

I grunted as I pulled my way to the top of the tree, using the rowan’s knots and branches. As I hoisted myself up, the wound in my arm burned. The archery wound hurt like a bitch, but at least Yasmin had gotten out okay.

And now I was working on that gleaming silver branch. This could be the key to the angels’ downfall, right here in the yew grove. Maybe Adonis had even been trying to protect it.

I winced as I hoisted myself higher.

I had one guess as to what I was supposed to do with a silver branch—and it happened to be something I was very good at. I needed to make it into weapons, and then use them to kill the angels.

Weirdly enough, I felt a flicker of guilt at the idea of killing Kratos, and even Adonis. Must be some sort of Stockholm syndrome taking effect.

I reached the top—the rowan branch that blended into silver at the end. I peered down from the boughs at the wintry ground below, dizzy from the height. My pulse began to race. One false move and my skull would smash against the cold earth.

Straddling it, I shimmied along the branch until the rowan’s bark smoothed over to silver. Here, the tree was about eight inches in diameter—not thick enough for me to feel well-supported. And definitely not thick enough for me to feel great about taking one hand off the branch to reach for my knife.

Still, it’s not like I had access to a ladder or a cherry picker in Hotemet Castle.

Clenching my teeth hard, I reached down for the knife strapped to my thigh.

My plan was simply to sever the branch here and see what I could do to fashion it into arrows, knives—anything that could be used to kill. But as soon as I brought the knife down to the branch’s surface, the tree’s ancient magic began seeping into my body, and light whirled around me.

Even with just the tip of my knife in the tree’s branch, my body began to tremble with an overwhelming power. This was a magic so ancient, it had bloomed and grown before language. I wanted to taste it, to touch it, to bathe in it. But as I slipped my knife deeper into the branch, it started to overwhelm me, snapping and buzzing through my body in a riot of power until I could hardly remember my name.

Light. Light all around me. The branch blazed with a blinding force—a divine magic, sublime and terrifying.

With my knife sticking into the branch, I was tapping into a raw source of magic, both dreadful and breathtaking. I’m not ready, not ready.

The power awestruck me. With the stupefying display of blinding light around me, the Old Gods were delivering a message in their own wordless way.

Stop. This way, madness lies.

I pulled my knife from the tree branch, and the light around me dulled. I sucked in a few shaking breaths, my entire body trembling.

Whatever the Old Gods wanted me to do with the silver branch, hacking it off with a knife of Nyxobian silver wasn’t it.

Okay. Okay. I’ll leave you alone for now.

I slid my knife back into its holster and slowly began shimmying my way back along the branch, my body still vibrating with that strange power.

I still had weapons to finish from the yews, and as long as I dipped them in Devil’s Bane, I could use them to disable the angels.

But soon enough, I needed to find out exactly what I was supposed to do with the silver branch.

* * *

I’d spent the rest of the afternoon carving my ordinary yew weapons in the forest. When I’d finished, I’d laced the tips with Devil’s Bane, ready to pierce an angel’s flesh. Then I’d buried them in the woods, keeping them safe from prying castle eyes.

Kratos had invited me to join him for dinner, and I’d dressed in a distractingly low-cut gown—crimson and gold, his favorite colors.

What exactly did I want to distract him from? For one thing, there was the fact that I’d spent all day trying to develop weapons that could kill him, and for another, there was my evening dance date with Adonis.

Across from him at the dinner table, I took a long sip of wine. I couldn’t drink too much, but I needed to calm my nerves tonight. At least my stomach had been lined with a sumptuous meal.

Kratos’s copper eyes burned into me, as though he could read my secrets. After a while, a distracting gown wouldn’t be enough to hide what I really was. Still, he looked relaxed in his wooden chair, his wings not in appearance tonight. He wore finely cut clothing in a deep red fabric, golden rings glinting on his fingers.

As he studied me, his body radiated light. “Don’t worry, Ruby. We’ll find a way to hunt down the demons and humans connected to the attack. You’ll be safe here.”

I forced a smile, lifting my glass. For the love of the gods, just leave them alone. “I’m sure they’re not much of a threat. They seemed so easily killed.”

If he wanted to know who the real threat was, it was his dinner guest.

A muscle twitched in Kratos’s jaw. “The attackers never should have gotten so close to you.”

I sipped my wine slowly. “Do you have any leads on where the Order went?”

His fingers tightened around his wineglass. “Not yet. But we’ll find them.”

“What about my sister?”

“I’m sorry. We haven’t been able to find her. My men are still looking.”

I tried to push away the disappointment. At least I knew she was alive.

I leaned back in my chair, my belly full of venison pie. It was only a matter of time before Johnny tried to poison Kratos against me, and that meant I had to get in there first. Right now I had an important seed to plant with Kratos.

I sighed deeply, pushing my glass away. “I probably shouldn’t have too much to drink. I hardly touch the stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Well, in times like this, when we’re under attack by demons, you need to keep your wits about you, don’t you? The earthly gods will exploit any weaknesses they can find.”

He frowned. “Funny that you mention that. I found Johnny passed out among three empty bottles of vodka in one of the hallways today.”

I raised my eyebrows as if surprised. “Well, I’m not suggesting that’s how the Order knew you were coming…”

“What do you think happened?” he asked.

I shrugged. “All I know is that the earthly gods, like Nyxobas, can take many forms, and it wouldn’t be difficult for one of them to pry secrets out of a drunken angel. Of course, it could have been anything, and I don’t want to blame Johnny.”

Kratos nodded gravely. “I need to keep him away from the alcohol.”

“It’s not a bad idea. With magic as powerful as he has, he could be a danger to himself, you know.”

Kratos pushed his wineglass away. “Enough of this bleak discussion.” He stood, holding out his hand to me. “Before I leave for my hunt, I have something I want to show you.”

With my hand in his, he led me into the hall. Kratos was the one powerful being here who still trusted me, and I had to do everything I could to keep him intrigued with me. As we walked, I let my arm brush against him, and his gaze slowly slid to mine. The expression on his face was purely carnal. This angel wanted to fall bad.

He led me through the torchlit corridor until we arrived at a set of oak doors inset into the wall. He pulled open a door, revealing an expansive room with a wooden floor, a mirrored wall—and a bar across the mirror.

A strange flicker warmed my chest. He’d built a dance studio in his castle for me.

Was he actually, genuinely, being kind to me? How did I reconcile this with the fact that he was a murderous maniac?

Maybe it was the fact that Eimmal was coming up the next day, the fae spring fever beginning to heat my blood, but I suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to dance. My body seemed to strain against the confines of my clothes. What sort of wild temptations would torment Kratos if he watched me engage in my favorite activity, my body glowing with pleasure?

I smiled at him. “Thank you, Kratos.”

Maybe I had just thought of a good way to keep him distracted from his apocalyptic hobbies.

I ran my fingertips up his arm, watching his body tense. “Soon, I want you to watch me dance.”

* * *

In the candlelight, I threaded a needle with white string. I’d be keeping tonight’s activities under wraps.

Already, I’d blown out the candles in the bedroom and snuffed out the fire, which of course had scared the shit out of me. I’d placed Fake Ruby in the bedclothes to confuse the sentinels.

Then I’d hidden myself in the toilet alcove where the sentinels couldn’t see me, and I’d begun working on my costume in the candlelight. For tonight’s performance, I had no sequins or proper wigs. Just a sewing kit I’d gotten from Susie, and the makeup that I’d brought with me in my quiver.

I curled another loop of white fabric, then pinned it down to the silky base. Carefully, I began sewing the loop shut. When I finished, I’d have something approximating a wig—except one made from fabric. It was the best I could do.

When I used to dance on the stage, I’d been in control. Some people called burlesque stripping—and yes, taking your clothes off was part of the act. But stripping usually meant something else—a business transaction where the dancer has to please individual customers.

When I put on a burlesque show, it was like any other performance—I controlled the production, the stage. The audience was full of both men and women, and I didn’t get too close to any of them. Didn’t matter if any particular individual was happy with the act. As long as people kept buying tickets night after night, I got paid.

I kind of thought of it as art. I chose the music, the costumes, the dance routine. It might be sexy, it might be funny, it might be aggressive—or it could be downright disturbing. I had an act about a repressed Victorian woman with hysteria, one about President Lincoln, and one about Harry Potter. I even had a Mario Kart act.

A few times in Massachusetts, I’d performed a routine about the Salem witch trials: sexy Cotton Mather dancing to a Tom Waits song—Dead and Lovely.

For this private show? I was still sewing my costume exactly the way I wanted it, even if I only had sliced-up dresses to work with. So even though I was about to perform for one man, alone in his room—a man who’d said he wanted to control something beautiful—I still felt like I was running the show.

On Eimmal eve, I actually needed to dance, and a powerful desire to move my body pulsed through me.

Already, my skin was heating with excitement, my heart racing faster. In just twelve hours, I’d devolve into a completely wild beast. Tonight, hopefully, I could keep things under control in Adonis’s room.

On top of the urge to dance, I was kind of looking forward to the fact that Adonis was getting my Cotton Mather routine. You want to watch me dance? How sexy do you find a Puritan judge?

Tonight, I didn’t have any pasties or tassels, and I didn’t want them. I wore a long black gown, with a shorter black dress under it. Even though my neckline plunged, I’d fashioned a white Puritan collar to go around the top. And under both of those, I wore the poison-tipped knife strapped to my thigh.

I sewed another loop shut, straining my eyes in the dim candlelight. The only other thing I’d need tonight would be music. I hadn’t told Susie why I needed it, but from Johnny’s collection, she’d rummaged up a cassette player. Tonight, I’d be dancing to Tears for Fear’s Mad World.

With the last curling white loop sewn, I pulled the wig on over my red hair, tucking in the crimson strands. I smiled at myself in the reflection. Despite the weirdness of the evening, for the first time in forever, I actually wanted to dance.

I grabbed my cassette player and my witch-trial victim off the floor—a broom, with a severe Puritan face taped to the front. I called my drawing Goody Brown—a generic victim of Cotton Mather.

I grinned. “All right, Goody Brown. Ye olde show must go on.”

As I crossed into the darkened bedroom, a wave of fear slammed into me, and I hurried through it. Still afraid of the stupid dark.

With one eye on the windows for sentinels, I tucked myself into the corner by the door, my heart beating hard. I focused on the light I could see—the moonlight washing over the room, gleaming off candlesticks, highlighting the floor. I steadied my breathing.

After a few painful minutes, the sentinel passed. With a racing pulse, I pulled open the door to the hallway.

Moving swiftly, I skulked through the drafty hallway, taking care to hide from the sentinels’ prying eyes. As I moved, anticipation lit up my body.

Tonight, on Eimmal eve, the air vibrated with an ancient magic. Maybe it was the power of the Old Gods, skimming and humming over my skin. Already, I was feeling the call to reconnect with the earth, to lose myself in the soil and moss, the hellebore and blackthorn. Eimmal was a day to binge on euphoria.

As I stalked through the corridor, my silk gown skimmed luxuriously against my legs. I hummed the Tears for Fears song to myself, my heart pounding rhythmically to the tune.

Given the excitement in my blood tonight, I definitely had to lock myself away tomorrow, or I’d end up running through the woods covered in nothing but hemlock boughs and a smile.

By the time I reached Adonis’s room in the Tower of Ash, I could practically smell the vernal power curling through the air.

I knocked on Adonis’s door.

He opened it a moment later. Even without his wings in appearance, the full force of his heartbreaking beauty hit me like a hurricane wind. Candlelight danced over the striking planes of his face, gilding him. It had to be Eimmal heightening his allure, bringing out the silver flecks in his stormy eyes.

Right?

This close to Adonis, the magic in the air felt different—deadly and seductive at the same time.

Something like amusement twinkled in his deep eyes. “Beautiful wig,” he purred, then glanced at my broom Puritan. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing a friend.”

“You want to let me in before the sentinels see me?”

He opened the door wider. “Right, I nearly forgot. You’re a prisoner here.”

Shadows swarmed in the air around him, sending a lick of fear up my spine. In his presence, some of that vernal giddiness subsided, and the hair rose on the back of my neck. When I stepped into the room, the door seemed to close by itself behind me.

I glanced nervously at the windows, the curtains drawn back.

“The sentinels will see me in here,” I pointed out.

“I can’t imagine why they’d be interested.”

I glared at him. “Kratos told me not to come here. I wasn’t supposed to leave my tower.” And Kratos is the only person here who trusts and protects me.

His eyes blazed. “Don’t worry, little succubus. I told you I’d keep you safe.”

Like hell he would.