They wait for Wendlyn’s nod. Crouching beside Leesa, I brush her damp hair back. I force my voice to be steady, calm, gentle. “Show me, Lees.”
She’s crying as if her heart is broken, but every noise is silent. And I know that it’s not because of this. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But you need to show me.”
Her head raises. Her gaze shimmers, filled with tears that slip down her cheeks without pause. But the scarlet is unmistakable, the sea-blue eyes she used to have now gone forever. Leesa drops her head again, gripping her elbows. Silent, thepretium from that single use stealing her voice.
Wendlyn steps up beside me. “She blew out every single window of her home, and both houses on either side. She is a vis maegis. A strong one, most likely.”
My hand wraps around her wrist when she reaches for Leesa. “Don’ttouch her,” I growl.
Merrick’s voice is steady behind me, even as he tries to reason with her. “This is an unusual case, Wendlyn. It was brought on by grief. You can give her time before marking her—others don’t emerge until far later.”
She stays silent for a moment. “You know the price for interfering.”
My jaw works. I know who will be forced to pay it, and it will not be me. “Merrick. Matthias—all of you, get down. Go and check on Ryn.”
“Callan…,” Matthias wavers. I can feel the glare he aims at Wendlyn, but she doesn’t respond. That strange smile she always seems to wear lingers at her mouth.
“Now.” I shift between Wendlyn and Leesa. “This stops now. I’ll speak with Petyr. An exceptionwillbe made.”
“Or an example,” Wendlyn murmurs quietly. For my ears only. “Are you sure you wish to interfere? You know it will not be you who pays the price.”
“She’s a child,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low as Leesa shudders. “You can’t mean to conscript her.”
Thatfuckingarmy he insists on building. “Petyr needs to find a new hobby, Wendlyn. Use some of the influence you have with him and fix this.”
“That depends.” Soft tone. Harsh words, even as she ignores my frustration. “If she is a six or higher, which I expect she is, then she has nothing to fear.”
Not until the next round of conscription, at least. My breathing deepens. “Where in Ellas is your compassion?”
The Wendlyn I remember from my childhood was never cruel. That girl was enthusiastic, far too attached to my brother and his friends, delighting in the intricacies and fripperies of court—but she was not this warped version that stands before me.
My words are grim. “What happened to you?”
Amethyst eyes flicker, a flinch so small I almost miss it rippling through her at my hissed anger. But Wendlyn only raises a slim, silk-clad shoulder, sounding almost bored. “We all have a role to play in our own survival. Move aside, Callan. You and I both know there is nothing that can be done. Petyr will not bend on his rules, and unless you wish for her brother or your friends to swing from the rope, you’ll step away now.”
Fury courses through me, threads lighting in my mind without conscious thought. Above us, the rope, precariously balanced on top of the beam, topples and falls. It swings between us, a silent message to reinforce Wendlyn’s warning.
Leesa looks up at it, her cheeks paling. She swipes her hands over her eyes before looking at Ryn, still screaming her name from the ground. And her shoulders straighten when she looks at me.
She points at the steps, her shoulders tightening.
“Leesa.” There is nothing I can say to her, and my own ineptitude has the wood around us creaking as I try to dampen my own maegis, tasting metal at the back of my throat. “It’s going to be alright.”
She’s trembling, but she nods. She points again, her lips moving.
Go.
Ryn roars again. “Please!”
I crouch beside Leesa. “I’m not leaving her up here. I’ll stay with her.”
When her hand creeps for mine, I grip it. I can taste metal in my mouth, but it has nothing to do with the pretium. Not this time.
“Fine.” Wendlyn steps forward. Her purple eyes begin to glow. “Hold her still, if you must stay, or it will take longer.”
A shadow strikes between us like a whip, cutting through the silence that falls. It wraps around Wendlyn’s wrist, tightening until she gasps and almost throwing her back across the dais, her feet struggling to keep their balance as she’s forced to the very end of the platform.
Other tendrils creep onto the stage, pushing back the soldiers who surge forward.
