“I’ll bring up the banned books you smuggled to me.Beginning Rune Magicby Master Aldric. Books that are supposed to be prohibited to humans, punishable by death just for possessing.”
He paled.
“I’ll let her in on how you coached me. How you taught me to identify the weak points in runes. How you held my hand, whispering encouragement when I doubted myself.”
“Aelie, stop?—”
“I’ll mention how you healed me, over and over, so wecould practice. All those nights locked away together. I’m sure the queen would be fascinated to learn that her stepson has been personally training a runebreaker for months.”
Vaeris’s hands clenched into fists. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” I said sweetly. “I could tell her I’m some peasant girl who got in over her head, or I could explain how the prince turned me into a monster.”
Whatever we’d once had, I was killing it right now. With full knowledge of what it would cost.
The remaining color drained from his face. When he looked at me, I saw a stranger.
Good. That made this easier.
“What are your terms?” he asked quietly.
“Find my sister. Keep her safe no matter what happens to me.”
Vaeris was silent for a long moment. “Fine. But I have conditions of my own.”
Of course you do.
“If you survive tomorrow’s execution,” he said slowly, “you’ll come to me. You’ll break a rune of my choosing, and you’ll tell no one about this arrangement.”
I wanted to refuse. Every fiber of my being screamed against it. But Rheya flickered in my mind, her small frame trembling in the cold. I’d sell my soul if it kept her alive.
He extended his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
I stared at it for a heartbeat. Then I reached out and grasped his fingers.
The magic hit like lightning striking bone. Scalding pain raced up my arm and slammed into my abdomen, carving into my flesh. I bit back a scream.
Vaeris hissed as a pattern erupted on his arm. When the agony finally faded, I looked down to see intricatelines etched into my skin below my ribs—interlocking circles like ripples frozen in water, filled with geometric shapes that pulsed with blue light before settling into black.
A collar, just not around my neck.
I’d sold myself to save Rheya. It had to be worth it.
He flexed his hand. “Don’t forget the terms.”
He turned, his cloak trailing behind him.
I slumped against the wall, exhausted. Rheya was out there, hunted, with the full resources of the Crown mobilized against her. By morning, her face would be sketched on wanted posters throughout Skalgard. Silver marks would loosen tongues.
She was smart. She’d hide in the catacombs of the old human city. If anyone could disappear, it was my sister.
But in a few hours, they’d drag me to the Square. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image came anyway: me, kneeling on the sacrifice rune. The executioner looming over me. His massive sword rising.
Would it hurt? Or would it be fast—one clean stroke and then nothing? My hands shook. I pressed them against the stone, trying to steady myself, but I couldn’t stop seeing it. The falling blade. My head rolling on the cobblestones.
Rheya would hear about it from the street. Some stranger would tell her the executioner killed her sister. And then she’d be alone.
Without me, she’d mouth off to the wrong guard. She’d get caught breaking into the Arcanum or sneaking into the palace or—gods, she’d probably try to kill someone. To avenge me.
