Cassian popped the cork of the vial with his thumb. It rolled across the dirt-laden terrain. “I see no sense in torturing you in Moros when my curse is currently living within you. In time, you will fall to its insanity and tell me where you’re keeping Ash’s blood. Until then, I cannot give you free rein of my Land.”
To be powerless.Shivani’s words haunted Finnian.
The cords in his neck went rigid the more he thought about the potion touching his tongue. It grated on his composure. To be confined, stripped of his willpower.
Escape.
Leave Father behind.
Do not link yourself to Cassian.
He could envision his father somewhere in the hellish landscape, filled with hope at the sense of Finnian’s presence, only to be overcome with grave disappointment when Finnian turned his back on him once more.
Guilt chiseled down to his marrow.
Don’t be a coward.
The alternative was to be a leashed dog.
“Why the hell are you so desperate to get your hands on my nephew’s blood?” Finnian snapped, resentment frothing in his tone.
Cassian’s eyebrows rose, and he lowered the vial. “What an uncharacteristic outburst. It seems my curse is taking quite nicely to you.”
Finnian pressed his lips together, the itch prodding like an ice pick in his skull.
Cassian offered his empty hand. “We can avoid all of this. Simply return the item you stole.”
Finnian stared down at his pale fingers, the soft tint of his short fingernails, the blue roadway of veins beneath skin.
The Kiss of Delirium wouldn’t break him, but binding himself to Cassian might.
He suddenly yearned to be back in that sweltering hot dungeon with the executioner chewing on his insides and Shivani’s bating remarks.
Finnian squared Cassian with a defiant look, grinning, as if he found the whole situation amusing. “After all the years we’ve played together, it is disappointing you’d assume I would ingest any sort of potion you’d wave in my face voluntarily.”
Cassian took a menacing step forward, and the tunnels around them altered.
Their surroundings morphed into a completely different setting. The soil underneath Finnian’s feet transitioned into dark, glossy stone. The tunnel hovering over them became a room made of obsidian. Golden basins filled with firelight reflected along the shimmering black walls.
Finnian moved back.
His heel rammed into something solid.
He turned quickly, discovering an altar atop the platform he stood on.
Cassian’s temple.
A gust of mint and lemon engulfed him from behind, the mixture stirring nausea in his belly.
He spun and drove his arm up to cast a spell.
Cassian caught his wrist with one hand. The other planted on his chest and shoved him backwards.
Finnian’s back slammed down on the altar. A grunt pressed out of his lungs from the harsh impact.
He shot his free arm upwards, magic gathering in his palm.
Cassian hooked his index finger around Finnian’s wrist, locking both of his hands in a steel grip over his head.
