21. Irina

Chapter twenty-one

Irina

H ours later, when my tears had dried and the fires of my anger were stoked, I appeared with a blinding flash in the royal bedchamber. Melric would destroy the world for me. He would hunt those Mages down and—

My head swiveled before landing on the prone form of the King.

He lay unmoving on the bed. The sheets beneath him were drenched in blood. On the floor at the bed's foot, a summoning circle was painted. The symbol had been traced using the King's own blood and blazed to life as I stared into it, removing any doubt who had been responsible for the King's murder.

I threw my head back and howled in rage.

Guards poured into the chamber.

Alarms rang throughout the Palace.

Bells tolled throughout the capital.

My mind raged, then fear for the last of my living family stabbed into my chest.

With a thought, I vanished from the Palace and appeared before the door of the Medica.

"WE WARNED YOU," was etched deep into the wood beneath another circle.

Anger burned through me.

I had resented the Mages.

I despised their arrogance and disregard for others, especially those without magic.

They were entitled, condescending, and powerful—a terrible combination.

And now my hatred was a brilliant star.

My heart warred with my head, caught between devastating grief and abject wrath. A part of me wanted to flee the Palace, find a quiet corner of the Kingdom, and cry until tears refused to fall. But the greater part of me longed for retribution.

My magic flared, swelling in my chest and brightening my sight. As I thought of all the ways I would see Mages die, power writhed, an enraged beast clawing at its cage, desperate for release.

Like snow on a spring day, my sadness melted beneath the fires of my rage. The small girl who stood before the Medica's door all those years ago whimpered in the recess of my mind. I turned on her, freeing my magic to eviscerate her presence from my soul.

There would be no salvation, not for me, and not for those who stole everything I held dear.

I felt power pulse, a beating heart beside my own. It fueled my rage—or I fueled its rage—and my path unfurled before me.

Glaring at the door, I raised a palm, and fire bloomed. I willed it into the etching until a broad smear of char was all that was left of the Mages' message. With a flick of my wrist, the door flew open, and I strode in. I had never wanted to use magic for anything beyond Healing, but now I ached to turn every drop of my power into a weapon.

There would be no denying my vengeance.

Danai froze in the hallway as I marched toward him, my eyes ablaze with the same fire from my palms moments before.

I stormed past him and down the hall.

"Irina, what happened?" Danai made to move toward me, then froze again, eyes widening.

I turned and stepped so close our breath mingled, then raised my palms. Balls of flame appeared, swirling and throbbing.

" Your friends just killed my parents and my husband."

"Oh, gods, no. The King—" His face twisted in horror as his hands pressed against his forehead.

"Did you know they were coming? Did you know their plan, Danai?" My voice was Death on the wind.

"No. I had no idea they'd returned. How do you know it was them? What happened?"

My flames flared. "Were you involved?"

"No!" His voice teetered between hurt and disbelief. "Irina, I would never —"

My eyes drilled into his as my magic drilled into his mind, searching for deception.

"I was with my parents. I watched them die. They made me watch. Then I found the King in a bloody bed." I edged forward, the flame now close enough to lick his cheeks. "The Mages left a little note for me on the door. They wanted me to know what happens—"

"What did they say?" He gulped.

"It was simple and clear. ‘We warned you,' with a summoning circle."

His mouth fell open. When he spoke, his words were a hollow whisper. "They're challenging you to resist them."

"I accept."