The chains weremelting!Filling my veins with molten gold, each beat of my heart fanning the flames, forcing them to spread. Building an inferno even as my ki abandoned me. Fed by my Elite symbiote, Marco’s weapon lit the room, glowing with a searing intensity matched only by the agony spreading through my very blood.
Skin flushed with stolen ki, the captain laughed, ending my torment as quickly as it had begun. “My God, Mila, your power!”
Gasping, I wobbled, sweat tracing the length of my back. Soaking my hairline.
“Shiiiiit, Asher,” Marco said, slapping his commanding officer on the back. “The wildcat packs a helluva punch! And I’m not talking literally, though”—he tapped his still-bruised cheek—“I can attest to that as well.”
The captain tossed Marco his weapon with a careless buoyancy, watching me rub the lingering torment from wrists and throat. “Yes. She does.”
“I’ve never seen a weapon charge so quickly. But her arms… and face…” The soldier trailed off, watching me from the corner of his eye. Shifting his weight from left to right.
“Donotleave her side,” the captain stressed. “She’s an unpredictable, reckless little lunatic, and I can’t afford another near miss like the debacle in the baths. Tilcot is already far too interested.”
“Captain,” Marco said, holstering his weapon, “the infirmary is the most heavily guarded building in the north. Surely you don’t needmethere.”
“It’s nothersafety I’m worried about,” the captain drawled, rolling his shirt sleeves back to reveal notonemanacle marking his wrists, but two. Black and gold. Right and left. “It’s theirs.”
“Theirs?”Marco squawked, setting his weight onto the kitchen counter. “Come on, mate. I know she’s… different, but she’s just a little thing. You’re not going to cause any trouble, are you little lady?”
“Course not,” I whispered, and hauled myself to a full stand. “You’ve absolutely nothing to worry about.” I flashed him a smile that went no further than my lips, trembling from the captain’s latest assault. “I’m a perfect lady. Perfectly poised.”
For a moment, Marco stared at me, cigarette dangling lax between his fingers. And then, “Reckless lunatic. Gotcha. She won’t get out of my sight, sir.”
He lit his smoke.
Chapter 18
The infirmary.
A dank, single-story building tucked well back from the dangerous strip of the front lines, unassuming with its pockmarked gray walls and tiny blacked-out windows. And yet, it boasted theonething I was both ill-prepared to deal withandneeded desperately.
Priestesses.
The memory of their pure, white ki teased my deadened senses. Goddess, if I could just brush against that sweet power, even if it was tainted with the stink of Elite. Corrupted. Even if doing so tempted the darkness and drove me to a life of eternal solitude.
I ached for the torment, for the moment that it would be mine once more. But I didnothing, for the bond—that accursed, ravenous thing—writhed in my chest, tugging at what was left without his hand on my skin.
Scowling, I picked at the gold at my wrist, leaving the brand unmolested for the first time in five years, for I had something else far, farworseto claw into bloody ribbons.
At least he wasn’there, irritating me with every breath, with every word that crossed his stupid lips. Every brain muddling, unwanted touch. At least I couldthinkin his absence, because thiswasthe most heavily guarded building I’d yet seen and if there was a way out, I needed every ounce of attention span I could get.
Elites dotted the perimeter of the room, dark eyes flicking over the rows of beds without ceasing, hands on their weapons. And down to the man, each was marked with a golden band encircling their left wrists.
They were bound Elites. Each augmented with the stolen might of a Priestess, just like the captain, and as a unit, they presented a formidable obstacle indeed. But… they were bound toTrilothPriestesses, for if General Tilcot had claimed the High Priestess, it would follow that a man of similar rank would have the remaining known Trila-Glís at his disposal.
And so far as I’d seen, such a man wouldn’t sully himself with simple baby-sitting duty, regardless of howmanysilver-blonde heads were packed into this building. Tomost, the wall of Elites bloated with the power of the Goddess’ chosen would be sufficient deterrent. But to a rare and dangerous thing on the cusp of reclaiming freedom?
Something wicked settled on my lips. How…considerate. To gather the Blood here, in one convenient place. Ripe for the taking.
My nose wrinkled, assailed by the coppery tang of spilled blood and a sour pinch of feces as we passed a man writhing on a narrow cot.
Marco’s hand landed on my shoulder, guiding me away from the unfortunate, doomed soul.
“Don’t,” I hissed, trying—and failing—to jerk away from his touch. “Take me to the High Priestess.”
“I’m working on it,” Marco said, crushing his smoke beneath the heel of his boot. Watching me from the corner of his eye. “She’s a busy woman and there’s a lot of people here. Have to wait our turn.”
A strangled shout came from somewhere out of sight, though few of the silver-blonde heads bothered to turn toward it. Most were occupied with the patients before them. Gentle, pale hands checked temperatures, set a twisted forearm, and three among them called for aid to manage more complicated patients.
