She came back to her body just in time to watch the moth she’d freed before the Occurrence landing on the sill, the window cracked open behind it. It seemed to stare back at her, its viridescent wings fanning and contracting before it took off into the night beyond, the Voice—the Oracle—leaving with her.
“I know what to do.” Lunara heard herself say the words, hardly believing they were leaving her lips.
She hadn’t before. Not really. Her only plan had been to slip away from whoever insisted on accompanying her so shecould go blindly bumbling into the chasms one-by-one without endangering anyone.
She didn’t need to do that anymore. Not when all of the answers were right there, inside of her.
Magnus stepped closer, head dropping so he could meet her eyes. “Anything, witchling, and I will help you. We’ll all help you.”
“I am the Evesong’s cursed blessing.” Lunara looked up at him. “And I am ready.”
Ready to claim Illamiata.
Ready to wield that blinding vengeance.
Ready… for Brand.
Okthana was sending him a message.She had to be.
What else could those vulgar, undead serpents have been for?
Maybe she’d overheard his interrogation of Baldrir, and was looking to make him aware of the fact. Reminding him of where his loyalty was meant to be. Playing him for a fool.
Then again, knowing he’d asked questions was not the same as knowingwhy. She was smart, but she couldn’t read minds, and putting it all together was probably beyond her feeble imagination.
Endellion, as usual, had been no help whatsoever.
“There’s no way Okthana knows,” he whispered to himself. “No fucking way.”
The information he’d coaxed from Baldrir was innocent enough. He might still be able to convince her it had just been a bit of fun to learn about the Battle of Breamwyrm. Among other things.
He’d have to do some groveling, of course, and find a way to remove Brand from her clutches—preferably before she could convince the Imperial Demon to help her and ruin every fucking thing he’d been working towards as a result.
His dungeons were compromised regardless. If she hadn’t actually found them, he’d be doing a lot of work for nothing, but no harm was done. If shehad, it wouldn’t be long before she meddled in ways he couldn’t tolerate, whether she knew his secrets or not.
Either way, she’d fucked his peace. It had been weeks since her attack and he’d had yet to hear from her. Sure, he’d been up to his fucking eyeballs in keeping up appearances, but she always knew where to find him. She should’ve said something by now.
Not like he could come right out and ask her if she’d happened to realize his duplicity. Whether he liked it or not, he still needed the bitch.
What a fucking mess.
Unless…
Maybe there was a way he could make it a messshewould have to clean up. One she’d have no way to blame him for. After all, he was merely Okthana’s lowly servant. Incapable, as far as she knew, of what he was thinking of doing.
Yes. It might work. He’d have to be sure she was distracted, but?—
A rustle and hissed whispers snagged him from the maze of his mind and pacing.
“Ah-ah. Trying to escape again?” He plucked the bent hairpin from Nyriadne’s bruised fingers and tapped her nose with it. “Naughty.”
He thought he’d gotten them all during her first attempt early on. Silly him for not checking her everywhere. Although, he was sort of curious to know how she’d gotten hold of it when hertoes were barely scraping the floor. Her arms should’ve been out of their sockets by now, dangling as she was. He’d have to keep a better eye on the crafty chit.
Lucky for him, he finally had a little time to himself.
“Trying? Wewillescape.” Her eyes positively burned through the matted clumps of her black hair. “Today, tomorrow. Doesn’t matter if it takes a bloody year. We’ll get out and I’ll make sure to tell every creature we meet what you’re doing down here, you disgusting bast?—“
The back of his hand connected with her soft cheek, a satisfyingcrack!echoing above the din of captivity.
