“Either way,” Dav continued, “I suppose the punishment will be the same for the Enforcer.”
From the corner of her eye, Aya saw Lorna shift, but she could not tear herself out of her own spiral of panic.
Willdidn’t know Evie existed.
Yet he had been in the Midlands. He had been coming for her, even though he didn’t know what he truly faced, even though he’d likely heard the rumors of what Aya supposedly was, and—
He isn’t coming.
The realization slammed into her harder than any blow she’d weathered in training or battle.
He had been captured trying to get to her, and now…
He isn’t coming.
Her fingers ached with her vise grip she kept around her chain.
Control. Control. Con—
“Perhaps he’ll burn just like your father!”
The exclamation yanked Aya from the trappings of her mind, thrusting her into the present as she found one of the prisoners glaring at her. It took a moment for his words to register. But when they did…
“What did you just say?” Aya rasped, her voice hardly more than a broken whisper in the wake of his shout. But he heard her all the same, his glare sharpening into an ugly sneer as he spat in her direction.
“You killed my sister. Shebelievedin you, and you murdered her like livestock in Sitya—”
“What did yousay?” Aya repeated, her voice trembling as she took a step toward the man.
Surely he did not mean Pa. Surely—
Her guard caught her arm, but the king lifted a hand to stay him, his brows raised in curiosity. He glanced at Evie, who was staring at Aya, her head cocked in contemplation.
Aya felt the brush of power skim against her,sensingher emotions. The iron would not hide them from her. And gods, that touch of Evie’s power was so reminiscent of Will’s affinity that Aya’s knees nearly buckled.
“Undo her shackles,” Evie instructed the guard. “Let her approach him.”
The guard at Aya’s shoulder tensed, and he looked to Gregor for confirmation.
“If she makes a move against us, I will kill her before she can summon a wisp of power,” Evie reasoned to them both.
Gregor considered a moment longer before acquiescing with a dip of his chin.
Lorna stared at Aya as the guards undid her irons, her mouth pulling into a troubled frown, but Aya was too focused on the prisoner, and the gleam in his eyes as he watched her eagerly.
Aya should have felt some relief as her wrists were freed. But all she felt was rage.
She closed the distance between her and the prisoner. There was blood on the pale skin of his cheek, mostly dried, but still wet around the wound near his temple. The iron scent drifted between them as she stopped just before him.
He spat again, this time right at her feet.
“You deserve to burn in the hells,” he hissed.
It did not matter that she had been shackled, that she was just as much a prisoner as he was. She doubted he’d even noticed beneath his own ire. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.
Aya knew what it was to be blinded by anger. To see nothing but red in her vision, feel nothing but the burn of vengeance in her veins.
“What happened to my father?”
