“Hold on, Eamon, I’m going to heal you.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”
My head jerked up at the unfamiliar voice, and my gaze locked with milky white eyes. The same eyes that had smiled at me while an assassin had driven their knife between my ribs.
The man in front of me was the Seelie representative, Mathias, but the sinister curve of his features hinted at something far less noble. His hand drifted to my shoulder, and an icy chill swept through my body.
“Get off me.” I turned toward Eamon as I frantically summoned my power.
His eyes rolled back, and a broken sob tore from my throat.
“Hang on,” I begged, but he could no longer hear me, losing the fight to stay conscious.
Taking a deep breath, I placed my palms over his wound and sent my magic flowing into him.
Only… nothing happened.
“As I said.” That same haunting voice slid into my ear, deep and inescapable. “That’s not an option.”
His palm gripped my shoulder, and the edges of my vision darkened.
The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was a blade sliding across Eamon’s throat.
Another scream fought to break free, but it never made it past my lips. Powerless, I could do nothing but watch as the enemy slaughtered my friend.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Ryker
Blood coated my fangs, and I ran my tongue over the tips, savoring the memory of Fallon’s screams as I tore his throat out. The bastard had given us nothing. No hint of the rebels’ plans or their target, not even a plea for mercy.
I had to admit, I was surprised that he had it in him. The way he carried himself in council meetings, arrogant and self-indulgent, made me think he would crumble with little effort.
But he hadn’t.
Good for him, I supposed.
“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” Riordan said, voicing what we all thought. “Honestly, I didn’t expect him to hold out like that.”
“Right.” I scraped a stubborn piece of flesh off my palm. The scent of blood still clung to me, coppery with a hint of something sweet.
“You seem far too pleased by that fact, considering we failed,” Callum said, his tone edged with accusation.
I was about to reply, a sharp retort ready on my tongue, when a low, keening wail shattered the silence. Rising from somewhere deep within the palace walls, it threaded through the air like a blade dragged across glass. The raw, inhuman sound was familiar, making my muscles tense.
It was the same noise I’d heard when the dissidents attacked the supply wagons.
“You hear that?”
Both Callum and Riordan glanced around, searching for signs of a disturbance.
“No,” Riordan said as Callum shook his head, frowning.
Someone moved at the far end of the corridor; hurried, uneven footsteps, almost panicked. My head snapped up, and when Malesh burst into view, sprinting toward us, eyes wide, all thoughts of the eerie wail were forgotten.
“What is it?” I said as unease roiled within me.
Malesh skidded to a halt, chest heaving. “It’s Cadence. They’ve arrested her for treason.”
