On her other side, Orion searches Bane’s body in a mad fury until he finds something that looks like an hourglass that hangs from his belt.
“You—” Isera growls in my face.
“Remember the plan!” I snap before she can finish threatening to kill me. “I swear to you, you will deal the final blow. But we need the location first.”
Some measure of sanity returns to her face, and she whirls back to Bane. I suck in a sharp hiss when she moves the ice dagger to his throat anyway. But thankfully, she just presses it against his skin in warning instead of stabbing him with it.
Bane, however, barely even seems to notice. And he doesn’t need the extra warning.
Because he is already dying.
That massive spear pierced his chest and left such a huge hole that it can’t be fixed without a healer.
His body convulses, and he coughs blood onto his fine silver garments.
“Orion!” I yell. “Hurry!”
If he dies before we can finish this, the rest of our plan will die with him.
The Unseelie King lets out a hiss as he grabs that hourglass, which is apparently made of iron. Gritting his teeth, he yanks it away from Bane and throws it across the ground.
Summoning my magic, I immediately try pushing it towards him. But I don’t create a new emotion. I just search for ones that are already there. Because if I create an emotion from nothing and shove it into his chest, I know that I won’t be able to stop. And that will risk our entire plan.
Relief hits me when my magic makes it through. That hourglass thing must have been what kept the shield in place around him.
I shove my magic towards Bane in rapid bursts to see what sticks, and jerk back in shock when I find a pale pink spark of sympathy burning in his chest. Following his gaze, I notice that he is looking up at Orion’s eyepatch.
Latching on to that spark of sympathy, I start increasing it steadily since that will keep Bane from trying to attack us. Not that he is in any state to do so regardless. But better to be sure.
Next to me, Orion straightens again and his eye begins to glow as he starts to rapidly flip through Bane’s memories. He’s not showing Bane any of them. Just looking for one specific memory. The location of the Soul of Trees.
Isera is still crouched above Bane’s chest, keeping her ice dagger firmly against his throat. Fury and vengeance burn in hereyes. He coughs and looks between the three of us. Deep sympathy now lines his features as I continue to increase that emotion in his chest.
“Perhaps,” he begins, then he coughs again. Blood sprays into the air and then runs down from the corner of his mouth. He drags in an unsteady breath and tries again. “Perhaps… our revenge… got a little out of hand.”
A low snarl rumbles from Isera’s chest, and she presses her ice blade harder against his throat. The signal is clear. She doesn’t want his explanations or apologies. All she wants is revenge.
Emperor Bane drags in another strained breath and tilts his head back, looking up at the open sky above instead of at us. “At first, we just wanted our freedom. But I was so angry about all the years that the fae took from us.” He coughs again, staining the collar of his silver shirt even more red. His chest shakes as he draws in another labored breath. “So it became less about freedom and more about revenge.”
“But that was generations ago,” I retort, my voice hard and merciless, while I still continue to increase that flame of sympathy in his chest. The sympathy that is no doubt the reason why he is admitting all of this now. “We didn’t do any of that. We weren’t guilty of any of those crimes against you.”
“I know.” He tilts his head back down to meet my gaze. But then his body convulses, and he coughs for a long time before he manages to drag in another shuddering breath. “But it was just so hard to stop. Once we finally had power, we just wanted more. Even over our own race. The other dragon clans. Because they hadn’t suffered the way we had. They hadn’t been slaves like we had. So we deserved to rule for once.”
His words echo my own thoughts from just a few weeks ago, before I had my little breakdown in the Osteria family’s house after I almost killed Ferver’s sister and mother just because they were members of the Silver Clan. My stomach turns and nausea crawls up my throat. I have no problem being a villain to myenemies. But it terrifies me how close I was to becoming exactly like the Icehearts.
“And the more power we got,” Bane continues, his voice hoarse and strained. “The more people obeyed us without question, the harder it was to stop.” Another wet cough racks his chest again, and his eyes slide in and out of focus a few times before settling on me. “You have no idea how intoxicating, how addictive, power can be.”
A cold hand grips my heart, squeezing so hard that I can barely breathe through the sudden panic. Because I know exactly how addictive power can be. I’m struggling with the magical effects of it as we speak.
I flick my gaze between Orion and Isera, desperately hoping that neither of them noticed. Thankfully, Isera is still only glaring down at Bane, and Orion is still frantically flipping through the emperor’s memories in search of any trace of the Soul of Trees.
“Orion,” Isera growls.
“Not yet,” he replies, his eye still glowing.
Stress courses through my veins like lightning as I look down at Bane again. His eyes are sliding in and out of focus, and half of his silver shirt is now red with blood that wells up from the wound in his chest. He looks half delirious, even without the huge flame of sympathy I’m manipulating in his chest.
“I think,” he begins. Then he coughs again. This time, it takes him even longer to catch his breath and focus once more. And when he does, there is a wet gurgling sound as he sucks in a strangled breath. “Perhaps the millennia…”
