“I’m ready now,” I say.
He inclines his blond head. “This way.”
Heading north, we reach the base of an enormous tree within minutes. Roman presses his palm to it and the trunk blurs before an arch opens in the center, as if a tunnel of light is carved through it.
“This is my own light tunnel,” Roman says. “It can only be activated by me so nobody else can use it as a shortcut to my home.”
I step into the quiet channel. The light curves up and around us like tinted glass so that the whorls of the tree’s trunk are visible but muted. At the same time, the tunnel the light creates stretches far into the distance, curving off to the right.
My demon wolves hurry inside, and as soon as Roman steps up beside me, the tree trunk closes off behind him and the energy beneath my feet moves us along at a rapid pace. Just like a light beam, I can stand comfortably on it while the outside world rushes past.
Taking a moment to allow my demon sight to rise in full force, I’m amazed at the startling blue skies that peek through the breaks in the canopy overhead, the trees and bushes bursting with emerald-green foliage as we rush past them, and the thousands of lifeforms within the Wilds: hares, foxes, lizards, snakes.
I’m also acutely aware of Roman’s presence as he leans comfortably against the side of the tunnel, his gaze lingering on my messy braid, his fingers twitching a little, and this time, I readhisthoughts.
A smile grows on my lips as I imagine him loosening my braid and running his fingers through my hair. We jumped up so fast this morning that I didn’t get to bask in his arms—or ask for what my body wants. And now… it’s too late.
He warned me when I first arrived that when I go back, he will have to stand to the side, not get involved.
Stepping easily into his embrace now, I tip my head back to kiss the underside of his chin. “You’ve given me every tool I need to survive.”
But my smile fades as I ask, “How do I beat Arga?”
Roman brushes the strands away from my face. “There’s no counter to his power. You have to find his fear and overwhelm him with it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, telling myself that I can do that.
“It won’t be easy,” Roman warns. “Like me, Arga will have buried his fears. You’ll need to be in physical contact with him to find them. Unfortunately, all of the royals were trained by their father to hide their fears—even from him.”
Roman takes a moment, his fingers lingering on my chin. “For all of his strengths, your father indulged his children. He didn’t rein them in when he should have. It’s because of Arga that there are souls in the Forbidden Lands.”
My senses prickle. “But… isn’t that where they’re supposed to be?”
Roman shakes his head. “The souls that come to Mortem should be housed in the prison, but Arga wanted more power. He started feeding on their energy and then casting their remains into the Forbidden Lands.”
“Is that why the souls are so destructive?” I ask.
Roman’s lips thin. “They were never supposed to be thrown out there.”
“They’re starving,” I say. “I know they’re the souls that couldn’t pass to Stella-Astrum, but still… They shouldn’t be there.”
Roman shakes his head. “No, they shouldn’t. The prison was designed for them, because it’s ever-changing and can expand with each new addition, but Arga started using it to lock away his enemies. Now, other elites scramble for his favor so they can share in the energy that he takes from the souls—and avoid falling out and being cast into the prison. It isn’t enough for them to live on the energy that the lower-level demons syphon from Earth.”
My lips curl with distaste. It’s no wonder the elites were all cheering so loudly for Arga at the Purification. All of them falling over themselves to ingratiate themselves.
“He thrives on pain,” Roman says, an angry rumble. “He grows stronger by creating and experiencing it. The same way Koda was feeding on nightmares on Earth. You need to know that Arga may cause pain, but pain also increases his power—even his own pain.”
My eyes fly wide. “Do you mean that… if I strike him, hurt him… it will make him stronger?”
Roman nods.
Fuck.
I swallow roughly. “Arga can never be allowed to rule Mortem. If this is what he’s been able to do by manipulating my father, or by playing on my father’s love for his children, then imagine what he could do if he controlled everything.”
Roman is silent at that, and I find myself asking, “Why have you never sought to rule? Clearly, you have the power.”
He’s still silent, for so long that I wonder if I’ve stumbled onto a sensitive topic.
