My mother and Aunt Vera hid me, dumping me, yes, leaving me at the fortress, though not until they’d made sure no one would discover the mark that would identify me as the Lydel heir. All these years, I’d thought no one loved me, that I was abandoned, when instead, they’d done all they could to protect me.
“We’re not the only ones, and neither are you.” The Liege’s words had slithered around me, scraping through my skin, stabbing deep.
I’d thought he spoke in riddles, that there were no true clues in his words.
Neither are you . . .
Iwas Brenna.
And Brenna was Layla. My younger sister.
When they found Brenna, she kept repeating what they thought was her name, but just like I was looking for her—my Layla—in the vision, she was looking for me—Brenna—when they found her in the garden.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zayde slink up onto the dais. He rushed to Brenna and with a wink, they flitted from the throne room.
My sister. All this time, I had a sister, and I never knew.
“I should’ve seen this,” Ivenrail marveled, unaware that his bride had been stolen. He slammed his thumb against my forehead. “Give me Lydel’s core power and with it, your throne.”
I tightened the guards on my mind, covering them with stones, a thick forest, and every thorny shrub I could haul in my direction.
He barraged my mind, slamming his mental fists into it, sending bits of my thorn bushes flying.
“Such a puny thing you are,” he crooned, pushing his strength harder, shattering trees I struggled to replace. “And they call you the Lydel heir?” He pressed his face close to mine. He made my eyes lock on his. “Give me that power, rider. It belongs to me.”
Reyla leaped off the dais and raced our way, her hand lifting.
“Let go of her,” she snarled, shooting out with the magicshe’d driven into her finger. A bolt of white lightning surged into Ivenrail’s face and blasted upward, raking across the top of his head.
He reeled backward, his hands slapping his hair while it crackled with smoldering magic. Spinning, he flung himself away from us, rolling before coming up to a crouch. A flick of his finger, and his hair no longer flamed. Rage burned across his features, turning his skin scarlet.
With his hands fisted at his sides, he stalked toward us.
Our death shone in his eyes.
58
TEMPEST
Reyla shoved me. “Run.”
“No.” I struggled to gather enough magic to fight Ivenrail, but the level of my well had dropped, and I could barely reach far enough down to scoop it up.
Ivenrail pointed at Reyla, and she was wrenched away from me, flung into the Nullens standing to the side of the dais. They tumbled onto the tile in a mass of flailing limbs.
The king grabbed my arms, shaking me.
A roar shook the very air.
He paused, his head tilting.
Madrood rumbled closer, his claws clicking on the tiles, his heavy footsteps thundering around us. He loomed behind the king, his lips peeling back to reveal long, deadly fangs. Flames coiled and snapped within his red gaze, and smoke poured from his nostrils.
“When you’re dead, Brenna will be the Lydel heir. I collaredher, which means I can find her anywhere.” Ivenrail’s lips curled up, and he stepped to the side, pointing at me. “Kill her, Madrood.”
The furious beast sucked in a deep breath.
I flung myself to the side.
