Sera and Manny both gave him a wary look. He knew they were worried for him—after all, they were leaving him alone with a veritable monster.
Killian couldn’t explain why he wasn’t nervous. After all, he hardly knew what he was walking into. It could be a trap—some sacrificial ritual or even a wild revenge scheme. It wasn’t logic that kept his nerves at bay. Logic had fled Killian days ago. It was a tiny, disgusting kernel of hope. Hope that if he did this for Elyse, if he won the Blade of Hanael, he would earn her favor.
Without warning, Elyse started to walk away.
“We’ll see you afterward,” Killian called over his shoulder as he followed Elyse. The plan was to meet at Killian’s mother’s house.Whether or not Elyse and the Blade would join them was yet to be determined.
A minute later, Killian and Elyse strolled down an unremarkable alleyway. They stood together facing a rickety wooden door along the side of an abandoned building. Perhaps it was Killian’s imagination, but he thought he saw a faint shimmer around the doorjamb. Elyse had paused before the door, and Killian waited for her to do something—utter some incantation or wave some spell. Instead she looked up at him, her dark eyes barely visible through her thick lashes.
“I regret my actions last night,” she began.
Killian went rigid. He didn’t know what to say. Her remorse caught him by surprise, especially its timing. Maybe she was worried for their safety and wanted to clear the air. Surely that meant she had some iota of a soul, didn’t it? A smile tugged at his lips as a sliver of happiness stirred in his chest.
Then Elyse’s upper lip curled, like a predator baring its teeth. “If I’d have been thinking more clearly,” she continued, and her tone made Killian shiver, “I would have realized that I need Manny and Sera alive. As collateral.” She lifted her chin and stared at Killian with the most sinister gaze. “But they managed on their own, and I’m glad. Because now I can say this: if you ruin this, I will kill them both the way I killed your beloved King Cyril.”
Everything in Killian’s body went cold. Ice slithered through his veins and froze the air in his lungs until it hurt to breathe. He’d been threatened by criminals before—more times than he could count. But none of them had borne the sort of malice thatsparked in Elyse’s eyes. She meant it, and she was more than capable of seeing her promise through.
Killian tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. “You have nothing to worry about.” He turned away from Elyse to face the door, hoping she couldn’t see how she’d rattled him. He could feel that the blood had drained from his face, but he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d intimidated him. He forced her threat from his mind and tried to focus instead on his breathing.
Elyse grabbed the latch and pushed the door open. On an exhale, Killian followed. As he crossed the threshold, he felt something surge through his body, and then he felt… dull. It was as if a valve somewhere inside him had been plugged shut, imprisoning a part of him. He couldn’t tell what had happened until he looked at Elyse and saw her shudder. She looked angry—and queasy. Her magic—theirmagic—had been suppressed.
Killian looked down at his wrist to where the pink crystal, the one Elyse had given him, was attached to a thin cord of leather. He’d only taken it off once—when Elyse had evaded him and run away to Jaime’s. He’d thrown it in the garbage right away, only to retrieve it two days later when he decided he would need magic in order to catch her. He’d been wearing it ever since, for three whole months. He hadn’t noticed how prevalent the thrum of magic was as the crystal channeled his intrinsic power—at least, not until it had stopped altogether.
The room they’d entered was gray and drab, the floors and walls both made of a dreary stone. The only things to offset the stone were a few sconces and six wooden doors placed evenly along the walls—six doors that led to six various locations.
“May I help you?” a man called through the echoey chamber.
Killian turned his attention to the man striding toward them. He looked older, with silky white hair that hung to his shoulders, and an all-white suit to match. The suit was immaculate and jarringly bright against the gloomy backdrop. Behind the man were a few tables and chairs.
The man regarded them with a curious expression. He folded his hands neatly in front of him.
“He’s here to take Royce’s place,” Elyse said with a jerk of her chin toward Killian. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the thin black card she’d shown Killian before, then extended it to the man.
The stranger gave them an assessing look. With one white eyebrow lifted, he took the card from Elyse and examined it. “What’s your name, boy?” he asked. His elegant voice was the sort that came from generations of immense wealth.
“Killian Southwick,” he answered with a soldier’s bravado.
The man pursed his lips as he pocketed the card. He stared at Killian through narrow eyes that sparkled with mischief. “I’ll allow it, but only because I love a last-minute twist,” he said with a smirk. “You can call me Julian. I’m your host and administrator.”
Julian said the words as if he were introducing himself as a king. He extended a hand toward Killian, which Killian shook tentatively.
“Do I detect a Western accent?” Killian asked, noting a certain inflection to Julian’s words. “Something near Brigmoore?”
Julian’s eyes lit up, and he pumped Killian’s hand with a renewed fervor. “Indeed! I spent my formative years inBrigmoore, and I spend most winters there still.” He prodded Killian in the chest. “Excellent ear, chap.”
“I’ve got family near there,” Killian answered.
Julian beamed. Meanwhile, Elyse looked like she was searching for something to impale herself with.
“As I’m certain you already know, Niall’s contribution to our soirée was the Blade of Hanael,” Julian continued. He waltzed toward the tables, and Elyse and Killian followed. “Should you win, you may choose one artifact of your liking to enter your possession. However”—Julian spun theatrically on his heel to face them—“should you lose, I will personally see to it that the Blade is returned to Niall’s estate, where it belongs.”
Elyse’s gaze was heated, but Killian simply shrugged as he said, “Good thing I plan to win.”
Julian chuckled. “Oh, yes. I quite like you, boy.”
Killian didn’t know how he felt about that. Before he could think on it too long, one of the doors opened.
“Ah, the other players are arriving!” Julian exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
