Chapter 27

She did not even have time to cry out before the mob poured in.

Dozens of them. Hundreds of them. Many, many more than had ever left with Bereas in the first place, a sea of black and red as they swarmed into the gallery – eclipsing the light of day almost entirely with the sheer number of them. Magic crackled, and two statues flew apart beneath the eastern windows. More magic, and the flagstone floor cracked open, a fissure running all the way from left to right.

No.

No .

This could not be happening. This could not —

A statue burst into pieces, a flying marble hand missed her head by mere inches, and her body reacted before her mind had even begun to process the pandemonium around her. Drawing from her dress was a matter of instinct. Midnight blue – at least there was some red in it, and it went hurtling at the face of a fae female diving towards them, cutting a bone deep gash through her forehead.

A dozen others were already filling her place .

Flames roared. Yndrusillitha had jumped to her feet with a speed that belied her physical age, a reflex older than this lifetime’s body; fire spilled from her hands in a blazing cascade and billowed between her and the attackers. Thysandra aimed her next burst of red at a fae trying to sneak around the burning shield. He spun to avoid the magic, then swivelled straight into the dome of fire instead – and for one spine-chilling moment, his howl of agony drowned out every other sound reverberating through the gallery.

Then he went down, wings still smouldering.

The smell of charred flesh came a moment later, putrid and nauseatingly sweet.

No time to gag. No time to breathe. On the other side of the hall, Naxi screamed ‘ Sashka! ,’ and her mind went blank for a moment – just a moment, and then the brightest ray of red so far exploded from her fingertips, taking down three fae at once. She tried to draw more and found there wasn’t a sliver of the colour left in her dress. Why the fuck had she decided to wear blue ?

Because there shouldn’t have been an attack today.

Because there couldn’t have been an attack – because the whole damn meeting was a secret and Bereas shouldn’t have even been able to come anywhere near the island – and gods help her, where was Naxi?

There were no more cries.

Through the swarming masses of fae, she could barely see the other side of the gallery.

‘You know what?’ Tared said, suddenly close behind her. His sword lay loosely in his grip; with his other hand, he was holding a bleeding Helenka on her feet. ‘Let’s delay the rest of the meeting to another day. Lovely to have had a word with you, though, Your Majesty.’

No. No, no, no —

‘Great idea,’ Delwin panted, limping towards the two of them with a grimace of pain. ‘Not in an urgent hurry to lose another leg, I must say.’

Feet away from them, a handful of fae dropped from the air without warning. Was that Naxi’s work, then? But their faces didn’t show that telltale demon agony, and only then did Thysandra catch sight of Nenkhet – standing beneath the swirling ring of phoenix fire with eyes as dark as ink, a trickle of blood seeping from her pale, clenched fist.

Blood magic.

She hadn’t missed the sight of that .

‘Right,’ Tared grimly said, no longer nearly so casual as he all but pushed Helenka into Delwin’s chest. ‘Time to leave. Drusa—’

The phoenix fire abruptly sizzled out as Yndrusillitha yanked back her arms, grabbed a blank-faced Nenkhet by the shoulder, and began dragging her towards the other three. A howl of excitement went up among the fae circling above them, and then they were diving down, down, down—

Delwin’s hand clamped onto Helenka’s bicep.

Yndrusillitha’s fingers closed around Delwin’s wrist.

‘Oh, and Thysandra?’ Tared’s brief smile was joyless as the grave. ‘Better keep Naxi alive, if you ever want to see a single kernel of that grain.’

And just like that, the five of them were gone.

Dissolved into thin air like wisps of smoke … and armed fae were still pouring in through the windows.

She didn’t even have time to think about that last thinly veiled threat – about grain, about peace, about her hopes and plans shattering like the flagstone tiles beneath her feet. Magic was raining down upon her. She had nowhere to take shelter, and what little red had been mixed into the blue of her dress was gone. And Naxi …

A bloodcurdling cry rose from the other side of the hall.

Naxi .

The world stopped turning.

Because it turned out her decisions were so very straightforward after all, instinctive enough to pass for reflexes – damn the trade and the politics, the secrets she hadn’t been able to keep. None of them mattered right now. What mattered was the simple fact that Naxi was there, and she was here, and if she didn’t move right now , they would both be dead within minutes.

Her wings had already swept out wide.

With no other options left, attack was her only defence .

She shot towards the vaulted ceiling with such speed the maze of statues blurred beneath her, streaks of red whooshing past her like crimson lightning. Something sharp slashed her shoulder. She did not slow down, and above her, a white-haired fae male got out of the way a fraction too late; she smacked into him with the force of a sledgehammer, feeling the air rush from his lungs in an audible oof .

Her dagger dug into his wing as she spun around at breakneck speed, using their combined momentum to fling him sideways through the air. He slammed into a unit of other fae hurtling towards her, sending their attack scattering.

Temporary relief. A dozen others were already rushing closer on her right.

She dove to avoid their magic, eyes feverishly scanning the ground below. Cracked limestone and shattered marble. The occasional fae corpse sprawled across the rubble. Endless stretches of white and grey and crimson-stained stone, and …

There .

A single fleck of pale eggshell blue.

In the northern corner off the hall, surrounded by a sea of broken glass, Naxi cowered between a pedestal and a knocked-down marble wing. A handful of dead fae lay strewn across the floor around her. None of them had been able to reach her, then …

But a pool of blood was spreading around her bare feet.

Thysandra was already diving.

A sculpture of a sword-bearing fae queen blew to pieces beneath her, and lumps of marble hit her on the chest, the hip. She barely felt the pain. Down and farther down, a descent so swift she was practically plummeting – wings sweeping out in the fraction of a moment before she crashed like a comet into the floor, braking just enough not to break her legs. Her foot caught on a piece of debris all the same as she landed, and her ankle twisted sharply as the rest of her weight slammed down upon it.

Her muffled curse coincided with Naxi’s ‘Sashka!’

The piercing pain in her ankle vanished the next moment .

‘Don’t you dare ,’ she ground out, ducking as a flare of red shot by her face, then turning to face Naxi in her blood-smeared hiding place. The demon’s skin was even paler than usual – the wrong sort of pale, greyish rather than blushing pink. ‘You’ve got enough pain of your own to take mine, too. Where are you bleeding?’

The throb in her ankle did not return as Naxi choked out, ‘Soles. Glass.’

Fuck.

‘Alright.’ That was a lie. Already their attackers were descending again. ‘Give me your feet. At least I’ve got plenty of blue in this useless thing.’

Naxi let out a little sob as she stretched out one slender leg. ‘You do look very nice in it.’

‘That’s something ,’ Thysandra rasped, cursing again as she caught her first glimpse of Naxi’s wounds. At least a dozen small shards of glass were lodged in her calloused skin, some of them embedded so deeply she could only deduce their existence by the cuts they’d caused. ‘Please go torture some fae to feel better. This is going to hurt.’

Eyes squeezed shut, Naxi obliged. Above their heads, one or two individuals who’d strayed too close began screaming; the rest hurriedly swept back, allowing the sunlight in again.

Thysandra gritted her teeth, dipped her left hand into the pool of blood, and drew out the red she needed to evaporate the glass shards. Just enough for the wounds. Too much for the healthy parts of Naxi’s foot, though: where the glass hadn’t been to absorb the magic, the red had torn open skin and callouses, blood pouring free from a dozen new places now. Untidy work, and if she’d had time, she could have done better – but in this case, by the time she’d have taken out even half these shards, they’d both be dead.

She pressed her left hand against her dress. Blue for healing . Another swift sparkle of magic, and all wounds were gone.

One foot to go.

An arrow whizzed past her, piercing the floor behind her. Fuck. They’d finally realised they couldn’t get her within magic’s reach with Naxi covering her back – and so they’d taken up the more primitive weapons. If whoever was wielding that bow had even the least amount of skill—

A second arrow buried itself into the rubble by her feet.

‘Fuck,’ she managed, out loud now, as she shoved Naxi farther behind the pedestal and half-crawled after her. ‘Alright. Give me your other foot. Keep them away from us.’

Naxi nodded, quiet tears pouring down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut again. Two more arrows whistled overhead while Thysandra repeated her healing routine with shaking hands, working even faster this time. A few fae tried their luck and flew towards them. Every single one of them ended up plummeting screaming to the ground.

Still …

There were at least a hundred of them left, and as soon as they pulled off a single coordinated attack, she and Naxi would be done for.

‘Fuck,’ Thysandra said out loud again, crouching behind the dented pedestal.

Naxi sniffled in agreement.

Only now, with half a second to take a breath, did the pain of her own wounds catch up – the dozens of small cuts and bruises left by flying magic and marble. Her ankle had started throbbing again with Naxi’s magic focused on the circling fae. Her head was spinning. Poison after-effects or loss of blood, she wasn’t quite sure.

Either way …

Either way, she was in deep fucking trouble.

More arrows were hitting against the floor around her, iron tips dragging flurries of sparks from the flagstone tiles. Useless warnings as long as they had cover, but as soon as she tried to move, there would be another volley waiting for her. So was there any way they could get out of here alive? Maybe if she broke a hole in the wall and made a run for it, although they would probably come after her, and carrying Naxi would slow her down. And even if she found shelter or a handful of allies willing to help her out—

Then what?

Her plan had leaked.

It had leaked again .

How was it even possible? She hadn’t told anyone. She had covered up her absence. She had done everything right, and still it had all gone wrong – and now the Alliance thought her a liar, her court thought her a failure, and neither of them were wrong.

So what options did she have left?

Voices were yelling behind her, fae lining up for attack in the corners of her sight. Naxi was shaking her arm, saying something. She barely even heard any of it. Her limbs were so very heavy all of a sudden – her thoughts, too … Perhaps she should just go hide in the deepest hole she could find and leave the whole fucking place to the wolves. Perhaps that had always been the best she could do, and—

A horn sounded, suddenly close.

‘The army!’ someone shrieked above her, the words punching through to her moments after. ‘It’s the army! Run!’

Nicanor?

Oh gods – had he found some people willing to come and save her?

She should have been relieved, yet even relief felt like too much of an effort as the sky outside lit up in fiery shades of red again. Stay of execution, if anything. Even Nicanor couldn’t save her forever. The sounds of battle above her were a blur, feeling miles away – swords and dull thuds and a voice …

A voice.

A far too familiar voice, yelling at people to get out, get out .

Bereas.

And at once, nothing was heavy anymore. At once, she was no longer out of options. Decisions made themselves in the infinitesimal moment between one eyeblink and the next – because he was here , the bastard who’d almost killed her three times over, and if she could do nothing else, at least she was going to get some gods-damned answers.

Her ankle screamed in protest as she jumped to her feet and staggered away from the pedestal. Naxi was crying out her name behind her – she ignored that as well.

Fae were hurtling out through the broken windows. And there, in the rearguard … a flash of blood-red wings.

She launched herself into the air .

Bereas noticed her in the same moment, and gods help her, she could feel the grin growing on his face a hundred feet away – that same blinding-white smugness with which he’d intercepted her near her rooms weeks ago. Enjoy that title as long as you manage to keep it, love …

‘Thysandra!’ he hollered, six feet of brawny arrogance as he swivelled around in midair.

He was baiting her. She knew damn well that he would be faster, with his prize-winning wings and his bulging shoulders – that when he ran, he’d do it well, and she would not see him again until the next time he came for her head. It didn’t stop her from soaring towards him even faster. Around him, more and more fae slipped out of the hall and into the open air outside; fury thumped in every vein of her body, blinding her to their names, their faces.

In the distance, Nicanor’s voice was shouting commands.

‘How’s life, Thysandra?’ Bereas yelled, clearly enjoying the chase as he darted away from the reckless burst of power she drew from the black of her own wings. Hardly anyone else was left in the hall, now. ‘Been busy kissing the Alliance’s feet, I hear?’

She flung another crackle of red at him. He somersaulted over it, laughing out loud as he swept out of reach again.

‘ Sashka !’ Naxi was crying, far down below. ‘Sashka, let it go !’

She couldn’t let him go.

Fuck him and his sleazy, cocky face. Fuck him and his warmongering hate. He was going to pay for every drop of blood he’d shed, for every sleepless night he’d caused her, and if she had to fly herself to shreds for it … what the hell did she have left to lose?

Her wings slapped against the air so hard it hurt.

Somehow the bastard was still faster.

‘Not giving up yet?’ he sneered, circling tauntingly towards her and back away from her even as she flew fast enough to turn her stomach inside out. ‘You’ll have to give up on this pathetic show, Sashka . Your demon pet is calling.’

The burst of red exploded from her fingertips with twice the intended force.

She missed him by mere inches – hitting only the empty air behind him, underestimating his speed again as he pivoted without slowing down. The ray of destruction hit a pair of statues beneath them instead. Stone limbs, crowns, and sceptres burst in all directions at once, and Bereas laughed out loud, whirling around her one last time.

‘Think I’ll be going, love.’ He blew her a kiss as he finally turned away from her, accelerating towards the broken windows. ‘Say hello to the Alliance from me!’

He was still laughing as he flew.

There was no thought as she drew her magic one last time. Just rage.

It wasn’t red, the colour shooting from her fingertips. It wasn’t aimed at him, either. Because she still had her dress, which had paled to the sickly blue of sea algae … and it was that hue she threw ahead of her with every magical fibre in her body, at the windows his friends had smashed to pieces when they entered.

Blue for healing .

The glass grew back into place inches before Bereas’s face. Too late for him to change course. Too late for him to slow down. A last shriek was all that escaped him before he smacked into the window at his full, dizzying speed – headfirst, with a bang that reverberated all the way through the stone walls themselves.

For a moment he seemed to stick to the glass, as if his body had melted into the small leaded panes.

Then he started sliding.

His wings didn’t so much as twitch on the endless way down. He thudded to the ground like a discarded bag of flour, sprawled out between the remainders of the statue Thysandra had blown to pieces a moment before – a crumbled crown beside his head, like a wry, mocking joke.

The hall was achingly quiet, suddenly. Outside, the battle seemed to have moved ahead with surprising swiftness.

She cautiously descended. Only when she’d landed and approached within a few feet did she see he was still breathing.

Her fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger. ‘Bereas?’

He didn’t move .

Fuck. Perhaps she’d been a little too successful in stopping him. Breath still gurgled through his throat, but the far side of his face was crumpled – as if his entire skull had folded in at the impact. Blood was trickling from his nose. From one pointed ear, too. One hazy brown eye blinked open as she tiptoed towards him, and there was no recognition in it.

‘Bereas?’ she repeated, louder now.

The hall was so dreadfully silent around them. There he lay, the male who might have brought her court to its knees with his reckless, violent pride … bruised and broken, and heartbeats away from death.

Something curled around his lips. A sneer, even now.

‘I can still heal you,’ she heard herself say. A lie, quite possibly – but then, what had he ever done to deserve the truth from her? ‘I’ll heal you, if you tell me how you knew to attack this gallery.’

He blinked.

A spark of consciousness flared in his gaze.

‘How …’ His lips moved almost without sound, nothing but a raspy whisper slipping out. ‘How I knew …’

‘The attack , Bereas.’ She fell to her knees beside him, as if she could glare the memory back into his battered mind. She had to know. She had to know. Nothing she’d done wrong, and yet … ‘Who told you?’

He blinked at her again, and then …

Then he laughed .

‘Oh.’ Grating chuckles bubbled up from his throat, blood frothing out with them. His chest shook with the physical effort. ‘So …. sorry to tell you, Thys. You’re …’ Another wheezing inhale. ‘You’re fucking the wrong person, love.’

She stiffened. ‘What?’

His breath grew more strained.

‘Wait— Bereas, wait .’ Trembling fingers. Bloodied skin. Blue, so much blue in her dress – but where should she even start? ‘What do you mean—’

He blew out one last ragged exhalation under her hands.

And then he no longer moved.

You’re fucking the wrong person.

She sat on the cracked flagstone, bleeding from wounds she no longer even felt, and stared with unseeing eyes at the ravaged hall around her. Shattered faces. Splintered limbs. Broken marble as far as the eye could see, the pedestals cratered, the names on them illegible. Millennia of fae rulers, fallen without so much as a fight – oh, she truly fit in well with them, didn’t she?

An embarrassment. A liar.

A traitor, and hell, everyone knew it now.

You’re fucking the wrong person.

They shouldn’t have known to attack the gallery. They shouldn’t have known she’d be making a last, desperate attempt to do better here. She’d told no one, she’d believed two minutes ago … and only now did she realise that was not true. That she’d merely wanted it to be true. That she’d wanted it so much, really, that she hadn’t even allowed herself to see the crystal-clear facts before her.

That one person had known exactly where she’d be, and why.

That one person had known everything for weeks.

Four of them, she’d told herself again and again. Gadyon. Nicanor. Inga. Silas. One of them must have betrayed her secrets to the world, and only now did she realise she had entirely, completely overlooked the fact that there had been a fifth suspect on the list all along—

‘Sashka?’

No.

Please, gods, no.

‘ Sashka .’ Quiet footsteps, inching closer, and she did not dare to lift her head as that soft, soothing, spellbinding voice drew closer. ‘What did he say? What is the matter? Why are you feeling so … so …’

Shocked.

Suspicious.

Furious.

All of them rational options, and all of them would have been so, so much more bearable than the truth—

Heartbroken .

Oh, she had been such a fucking fool.

‘You,’ she breathed, gaze immovable. ‘You told them?’

The footsteps abruptly halted.

So very silent, this cursed, dead place – a silence in which she could hear her heart slowly, achingly crumbling to pieces in her chest. It made so much sense. It made so much sense, now that she was finally adding up the plain, ugly facts – the words that had been spoken straight to her face weeks ago …

‘What?’ Naxi said.

At once her voice was no longer so sweet.

Looking up was the last thing Thysandra should have done, and she did it anyway, out of some twisted, self-flagellating desire to see the betrayal with her own eyes. Blue eyes. Pale cheeks. Small, dainty feet wrapped in strips of pale blue fabric. Sweet, so temptingly, lusciously sweet …

Like poison.

Her wine had been sweet, too.

‘You told them. While I was sleeping.’ It wasn’t even an accusation – rather, a conclusion. ‘You were the one who stole Gadyon’s notes and spread them. All those times you said you were gone to visit the Labyrinth, you … you …’

‘Sashka, what are you talking about?’ Too shrill. ‘Why would I—’

‘Because you wanted us to leave,’ Thysandra said hollowly.

Blank blue eyes gaped back at her, and this time, no objection came.

‘You wanted me to get out of here. The very first thing you told me in the bone hall, for hell’s sake – that you were only biding your time at the court until I decided to come with you.’ A joyless laugh burned like acid on her lips. ‘But you didn’t want me to resent you either. You didn’t want to force me to run off before I could be well and truly sure that my time here was an irreparable failure – so you made it a failure, didn’t you?’

So utterly brilliant. So utterly ruthless. The sort of scheme only a creature with no empathy at all would be able to come up with.

And shouldn’t she have known from the start? Wasn’t this how every interaction between them had developed? At the Last Battle, Naxi had toyed with her feelings to win the fight and save her own life. In the Alliance’s cell, Naxi had toyed with her feelings to make her talk and win the war. So how, how had she somehow allowed herself to believe it was true this time, that all too perfect idyll the demon had so skilfully crafted between them?

Toyed with her feelings. Won her trust. Sold her out.

As always.

Like everyone .

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Naxi said.

A scoff fell from Thysandra’s lips. ‘And that’s the best you’ve got? When I’m only repeating the things you told me yourself? When—’

‘I’ve been helping you! Why would I help you if—'

‘—if it didn’t gain you anything?’ she cut in, voice growing louder. ‘Exactly! You’re a bloody demon! You’re the last person in the world who’d be helping anyone just for the warm, fuzzy feelings! Of course you weren’t going to sit around and just wait for me to maybe change my mind – of course you would be working for yourself first and foremost!’

She’d thought Naxi’s cheeks pale before. They’d gone almost translucent now, a waxy deathlike pallor. ‘Sashka …’

‘And don’t Sashka me!’

‘I made a bargain.’ It was almost a plea as Naxi staggered forward on her bound feet, arm held before her, wrist turned out. The mark gleamed pink and innocent in the morning light. ‘You do remember our bargain, don’t you? I couldn’t betray you even if I wanted to, Sashka. You can’t just—’

‘You never bargained to not betray me,’ Thysandra said hoarsely, barely feeling her own lips move. ‘Just not to willingly harm me. And aren’t you the one who told me it would be for my own benefit to get out of here?’

The silence was all the answer she needed.

It was as good as a confession, that silence.

Naxi was trembling. Trembling so violently that the pink tips of her curls shook around her slim shoulders, bottom lip quivering, blue eyes filling up – genuine distress, the panic of a thief caught red-handed with nowhere left to run, and it was shameful how even now that fragile-looking misery made Thysandra’s arms itch to reach out for her. To apologise, to beg for forgiveness, to kiss those pink rosebud lips until they were smiling again …

Like every fucking time she’d thrown herself to the floor before that bone of thrones, grovelling over any imagined slight and mistake.

Like every fucking time she’d been so numbly desperate for even the most pathetic excuse for love that she’d happily betrayed her own heart to get it.

‘Make another bargain, then,’ she breathed. ‘For the truth. Then tell me it wasn’t you who did this.’

Naxi stiffened.

A moment of stalemate between the dismembered, beheaded statues, the rubble of centuries upon centuries of history … and then the demon stepped back.

Dropped her arm to her side.

And said, brittle voice choked, ‘No.’

There it was.

Thysandra should have expected it, and still – still – her traitorous heart had the gall to feel disappointment at the confirmation. ‘So you admit it?’

‘I don’t admit any fucking thing!’ Another step back. Tears were welling in those blue eyes again, spilling over now. ‘I’m telling you I didn’t betray you. I’ve never spoken a word with gods-damned Bereas in my life. But if you can’t trust me on that—’

‘How am I supposed to trust you on that!’ Thysandra burst out, swinging an unrestrained hand at Bereas’s bleeding corpse. ‘Do you know what he said ? Do you know—’

‘I don’t give a damn what he said! And neither should you!’ She’d never heard Naxi’s voice break this way before, raw and thin and utterly wretched. ‘I have given you every fucking reason to trust me, Thysandra, and he has given you absolutely none – I’ve supported you and protected you and comforted you, and I’m utterly sick of having to defend myself over and over again just because you can’t comprehend that I might be speaking the truth, do you understand?’

Bullshit.

Sly, manipulative bullshit .

‘Oh, so now I’m the one to blame?’ she snapped back, struggling to her feet. Pain only made her anger flare higher, hotter, burning like fire in her veins. ‘Now I’m the one who’s too distrustful? Every other creature in the world is rightfully frightened of you, no one’s even given you the option to defend yourself – but I must have it all wrong even if I’ve put more faith in you than anyone else ever has?’

Naxi’s face had gone ashen.

‘Tell me I’m missing something.’ Thysandra’s voice grew louder. ‘You gave the Alliance every reason to trust you, too, didn’t you? You stuck to their rules. You won them their war. And still they’re wary around you – are they all wrong, then?’

‘Don’t you dare.’ Those pink lips twitched up into a feral, sharp-toothed snarl. ‘Don’t you dare tell me—’

‘You gave your family every reason to trust you, didn’t you?’ Thysandra spat.

Naxi went still.

Still like the statues on either side of her … and something broke in that silence. Fractured like the heads, the hands, the wings that lay scattered between the pedestals.

‘So tell me to believe you all you want.’ It didn’t feel good, allowing the words to spill from her lips. It felt like driving home a stake already wedged between those frail demon ribs. ‘But you ran from the ones who relied on you before, and you’ve told me over and over that you wanted to do it again – to hell with the humans, to hell with the court. So if I know damn well that you don’t care about hearth and home or any sort of family at all, then—'

‘Shut up.’ Naxi’s hands twitched like claws by her side. ‘Shut. Up .’

‘But am I wrong? Am I—’

‘I said shut up , Thysandra!’ A shrill sob wormed its way out with the words. ‘You have no damn clue what you’re talking about! And you … you …’

She faltered.

Panting, heaving silence.

‘And I?’ Thysandra bit out, every muscle and tendon tightening.

‘You have no right to talk about family.’ Naxi spat out a bitter, burning laugh, staggering backwards. ‘You wouldn’t recognise family if you fell into their gods-damned arms. You’d be so busy distrusting them all that you’d rather lose them and feel safe again than put even the tiniest, saddest little bit of faith into anyone – wouldn’t you?’

Hounds roared in the back of her mind.

Skin tore. Bone snapped. Thysandra! he had shouted, stumbling up the slope to reach her, dripping teeth dragging him down. Thysandra , again and again and again—

And she’d lost him.

Distrusted him and lost him – but hell, at least she had survived .

‘Prove it to me, then.’ She was pleading now, and she didn’t even care; her legs were buckling, and she didn’t care about that, either. ‘Please. Make that stupid bargain. Prove me wrong. I want to trust you, I swear, but—’

‘Oh, you don’t,’ Naxi said, voice quiet.

‘I do! I really do!’ Her knees thudded back to the floor. Her ankle twisted again, and then all of a sudden she was crying – pathetic hollow sobs wrenching out of her and reverberating through the empty hall. It felt like reaching for that non-existent memory again. Like grasping for something that should be so, so close, and simply … wasn’t. ‘I’m begging you to let me trust you, don’t you see? I just need—’

‘That’s not trust, Sashka.’ Barely a whisper. ‘Trust is scary. You’re looking for the opposite of it.’

Survival.

Was she to blame for wanting to survive , now?

‘Please,’ she blubbered. ‘Please, I—'

‘I didn’t betray you.’ Flat. Apathetic. As if it could be that easy – a pair of teary blue eyes and absolutely nothing else. ‘I don’t know who did, I don’t know how they did it, but it wasn’t me. So are you going to believe that?’

She wanted to.

She really, really wanted to.

She knew what would happen if she asked again.

But the gallery lay in shambles. Her old allies might never respect her again, and her new ones had been driven away before they could even start respecting her. If she somehow survived this blow, she could never, never afford another defeat again, and Bereas’s sneer was still there …

You’re fucking the wrong person, love .

How could she not wonder?

How could she not fear?

How could she ever sleep soundly at night with that irresistible threat of treason beside her?

‘Please,’ she choked out. ‘Please just—'

Naxi turned around.

‘Please. Please! ’ Not again. Not so easily , more than anything. She couldn’t bear it, another heart shutting hers out without a wince – as if she’d never been worth the regard in the first place. She’d known of a demon’s lack of ability to love. She thought she had prepared for it, and yet nothing could have prepared her for the sight of that slender back moving away from her now without a single stumbling step. ‘Naxi, please!’

Not the slightest falter.

Don’t be so demanding, Thysandra , the Mother had said, smile cold and scathing. The arrogance, to think your tears are the first of my worries …

She had to stop crying.

She had to be strong.

So many ways to fail, and she no longer even had the strength left to get back to her feet, to pull herself together, to fight.

‘ Naxi! ’ It was pathetic, her voice – the desperate cry of a drowning creature fighting for air. It was all she could do. ‘Naxi, please just talk to me! You have to talk to me! You said— You bargained not to harm me, and you’re … you’re …’

You’re harming me.

She did not manage to speak the words as sickening suspicion rose.

The world was a blur. The floor swayed beneath her knees. But the inside of her arm was crystal clear when she opened her eyes and forced herself to look down, a vision painted in razor-sharp colours – dark skin, blood-streaked palm, and only a single, purple bargain mark lodged inside the hollow of her wrist.

No more pink.

If you decide to leave the Crimson Court for whatever reason …

The bargain had been voided.

She folded over on the cold, hard floor, clutched her arm against her chest, and bawled like a lost, abandoned child.