His sister.
The image of her flashed in my mind: hair the color of red wine, face fiercely beautiful. It was so vivid, so real, that it was a punch to the chest. I tried to reason with myself that she wasn’t really his sister. That even if her soul had once shared blood with the one before me, it didn’t mean there was any true relation between them. That there was a bond like the one I shared with Malik, or the one she shared with Ian.
Ian.
The smile on my lips faded as I saw him next. Saw his life being stolen from her. Heard her cries of sorrow and rage.
My heart stuttered. Stomach lurched.
I dropped him.
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t do that to her.
As fucked as it was, they were blood, and I couldn’t make that call for her. It wasn’t my place.
Stepping back went against every urge and need within me, but I did it. My chest heaved with the effort to do so as I stared at Callum. He lay sprawled on the floor, moaning, his legs and arms tangled with the chains he’d smiled at when they had been around me.
I shadowstepped back to Wayfair before I did something I would regret. And Iwouldregret it. Not ending his life, butstealing that life from her, whether it was a life she wanted to share or not.
The Great Hall was empty as I prowled the length of the main floor, willing the essence and the effects to retreat. It wouldn’t stay that way for long. Kieran would be here soon enough, clucking around me like a mother hen. Had I eaten? Slept? Breathed fresh fucking air?
Jumping onto the dais, I sat on the throne and focused on keeping myself there. I slowly placed my hands on the arms, feeling the bones beneath my palms as I closed my eyes. I needed calm.
Then I felt it.
A shiver of awareness.
A presence had arrived.
“Bringer of Ruin,” an infuriating voice boomed.
And there went that calm.
“Giver of Wrath,” the annoyingly familiar voice thundered.
Bringer of Ruin.
Giver of Wrath.
Huh. I kind of liked the sound of that as I curled my fingers around a slender bone. I opened my eyes.
Standing before the dais was the nipple-pierced motherfucker.
Aydun.
And he’d brought a friend that I assumed was another Fate.
A dark-haired male stood behind him, to his right. Tall, with skin the shade of bronzed gold, there was something familiar about the square curve of his jaw beneath the vine-like pattern on it and his brow. Though I wasn’t sure what as I looked him over. He wore the same loose-fitting white pants, but his nipples weren’t pierced.
Aydun tipped his head back, sending long, brown hair sliding over his shoulder. “Hello, Casteel.”
Ripping a bone free from the throne, I threw it straight at him.
“What the—?” Aydun side-stepped in a blur. The other Fate whirled as the bone shot past him, piercing a pillar behind them.
Aydun squinted at the vibrating bone for a moment before facing me. “Did you just throw a bone at me?”
