Let us out! Let us out!The voices screamed in her mind, a maddened chorus clamouring for release.
“Dalmatius…” Tarxi’s usual arrogance was stripped away, leaving behind nothing but naked fear.
Dorias’ eyes darted to the tendrils of black smoke, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword as the ground shook again.
The voices surged with a hunger that gnawed at her, twisting her insides.
Blood! Give us your blood!
“You lied to me,” Katell hissed, her voice strained under the suffocating pressure of the magic coursing through her veins.“You’ve been lying to me from the start. You knew what the voices and the smoke are.”
Dorias’ lips pressed into a thin line, his silence speaking volumes.
“Say it!” she spat, her fury demanding the truth while her betrayed heart demanded blood.
His steel eyes met hers and, for the first time, his composure slipped. At last, he spoke. “Makhai.”
An icy chill snaked down Katell’s spine, while the voices in her head became a cacophony of whispers and shouts.Makhai! Makhai!
She gasped, struggling for control. Her chest heaved. Her limbs trembled. The unrelenting pull of her magic drained her strength, feeding on her wrath and pain.
And then, amid the thickening smoke, a clawed hand rose up. Jagged fingers scraped across the blood-soaked sand, leaving deep gouges in their wake.
A ripple of shock moved through the gathered troops and slaves while Dorias stiffened at the sight.
“What are they?” Katell asked.
“Demons of the battlefield,” he replied. “Summoned by Laran himself during the Battle of Kendrisia. They exist for one purpose—to destroy.”
Demons.She could summon demons. “That’s why the Emperor wants me.” Nausea rose in her throat. “Because I can call upon them.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
A bitter laugh tore from her lips. “And yet all of you are terrified I’ll release them.” Well, by the Moon, they had called for her blood, and she was going to give it to them.
With a swift motion, she drew a dagger from her belt and, holding Dorias’ gaze, she drove the blade down, drawing a single drop of blood. It fell to the ground, and from the curling tendrilsof smoke, another clawed hand emerged—larger, more terrifying than the first.
It lunged, clamping around the leg of a soldier who’d strayed too close. A single rake of its claws flayed flesh from bone, the wet sound followed by a howl of agony that split the air.
Two of his comrades grabbed him under the arms, dragging him away. His shredded, ruined leg was enough to make others recoil, stumbling over one another in their haste to put distance between themselves and the writhing smoke.
Katell’s lips curved into a dark smile.
Let them fear her.
“Make her stop!” Romilda shrieked, staggering back.
Dorias lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “You let them loose here, and wealldie, Katell. Is that what you want? We both know you can’t control them.”
He was right. Whatever she was summoning was insatiable, a force far beyond her control, and it was draining her. Exhaustion pulled at her mind, but she would burn herself whole before she let Dorias walk away.
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” With the dagger, she gestured to the dozens of terrified Freefolk watching. “A risk they’re willing to take. Even you should remember what it’s like to be a slave. To have no control over your life. Over your death.”
“Fine.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. “Stand down, and we’ll let the Freefolk go.”
Katell scoffed. “As if I’ll believe you?—”
“Soldiers, set them free,” Dorias ordered, the steel in his voice cutting through the chaos.
