“Sire—” Roman tried.
“Silence,” he boomed, voice echoing around them.
Ozik lowered Vaasa to her knees, power swirling in his angry expression as his fingers loosened on her throat. Breath filled her lungs painfully, and she took in whatever air she could. “You are just as meddlesome as your mother,” he whispered. His eyes were on fire, a bloodred glow emanating all throughout them. And just behind him, the Miro’dag took form. “You will die like her, too.”
Vaasa froze. Panic overtook every instinct she’d honed, stealing away her usual ability to keep her composure. Shethrashed, but he only gripped her neck tighter, his other hand snaking out to take hold of her shoulder.
The creature screamed. Fury twisted Ozik’s mouth into an angry frown.
Faintly, she heard the sound of Roman’s sword unsheathing, a command falling from his lips for Ozik to let her go. Fear clawed its way through Roman’s shaking tone.
Yet Vaasa couldn’t take her eyes off Ozik. There was something in his gaze—some rebellion, some spark of logic or recognition or consciousness that hadn’t been there a moment prior. It was like she was looking at two different people. His eyes flickered once more, gold fighting for dominance in the red.
“What are you?” Vaasa gasped with what little air she could manage.
Ozik’s hand upon her throat shook with strain. One finger lifted, then snapped back down. He seemed at war with himself. His fingers tried once, twice, and finally they released her with a spasm. He drew back, releasing her entirely. Vaasa buckled over and put her own hands around her neck, desperate to protect it. Her knees dug into the hard staircase beneath her.
The Miro’dag approached, the smell of rotting flesh and burning hair stuffing itself up her nose. She looked into its crimson eyes, the same color that had seeped into Ozik’s, and the churning of power within them was a living thing. Magic, raw and unfiltered, shone back at her.
“Vaasalisa,” Ozik said, suddenly back to the professorial tone that he’d held with her just that morning. Every morning so far. He took two careful steps back, left foot finally reaching the bottom of the staircase. Desperation stained his gaze as the crimson winked in and out of his irises.
He was silently asking her for something, she just didn’t know what.
Roman’s footsteps sounded as he ran to her side. He bent to where she knelt on the staircase, trying to pull at her arms to help her stand. Silver glinted at the corner of Vaasa’s eye, and her hand snapped out like a snake biting prey. Grabbing the dagger sheathed at Roman’s belt, she pulled, and using all her strength, she struck upward, the sound of her boots sliding on the stairs.
She stabbed the hooked blade into Ozik’s throat, cutting through skin and sinew, and tugged it back out with a ruthless grunt.
Blood oozed from the gaping wound on the advisor’s neck, the color of it tainted by streaks of black. It ran down the column of Ozik’s throat and soaked the neck of his white cloak. As he choked, Ozik’s eyes flashed with rage and pain, and then they bled entirely to gold, all the red gone.
Pain lanced through her core, her magic activating once more. Wide-eyed, Vaasa stumbled back and tripped, falling to her rear on a step. A twinge shot up her spine.
But Ozik didn’t fall. His knees didn’t buckle, and the floor didn’t welcome him in a slump of lifeless bones. The wound at his neck began to sew, skin stitching back together in a seamless line. A smile graced his lips as color returned to his mouth and cheeks. Even though black blood still stained his skin and cloak, there was no trace of the wound anywhere.
“Your effort is noted,” Ozik said, perfectly level and controlled. And then he turned his attention to Roman. “If you disobey me again, I will put your head on a pike.”
Roman went pale as a ghost.
The burning within her ceased. “Please,” she begged, “let me see her.”
Ozik simply shook his head. “Earn it,” he said. He gave Roman a withering stare. “And do be more discreet.”
Ozik turned on his heel and walked away like the entire interaction had never occurred.
Breath pushed in and out of Vaasa’s lungs: hot, heavy, desperate. She was certain the floor would give way beneath her, that the fortress would swallow her whole. The gravity of her situation settled in her stomach, her suspicions from the moment he’d healed her hand fully confirmed.
Ozik couldn’t die. Not like a mortal could.
As she stood, she tried to take a step, but Roman grabbed her wrist, pulling her back and catching her off guard. She rammed into his chest, and he hauled her up the stairs. Her feet caught purchase, and she ran with him. The moment they were out of the stairwell, he turned and caught her shoulders, inspecting her fully. “Are you all right?”
It all played in a loop in her mind—Roman had simply watched, so terrified of Ozik that he couldn’t move. For whatever reason, his lack of interference stung. She hadn’t ever needed someone to protect her, but she wished there was someone to help her keep this fear at bay. She wanted Reid.
Roman’s jaw clenched. “We need to get to the old wing. I need the truth. Now.”
Adrenaline still fogged her mind. They couldn’t be alone; she was going to lose her grip on herself, let something slip without a plan—
“Vaasa,” he said, trying to calm her down. “I’m here for you. To protect you. But I need your honesty—”
“You call that protecting me?” she whispered.
