I step to the bars of golden sand and look up into his amber eyes. “You truly think that I would take you, Neri, into the presence of the queen whom you cursed?” I shake my head and look him over as though he’s pathetic. “Being locked up inside Alexus made you delusional.”
His snow stops falling over the village behind him, but the fire is nothing more than steam in the air now.
“Then go,” he says. “Leave me here as a spectacle for the Dread Vipers to torture. You will eventually have to let this construct fall. You can’t hold it forever. And when it comes down, I will go to the City of Ruin myself. There will be someone, at some point, perhaps Fia Drumera herself, who deals with me. Only my deal then may not be so kind, and you’ll be left to fight your battles without a god on your side.” He grips the bars. “Do you understand that I have aided you since Hampstead Loch?” he says. “I held storms at bay as we rode to the Gravenna Mountains. Asked the Great Horns of my land for a sacrifice to feed your belly. I killed your enemy and brought you his head. Stole an entire ship and most of its crew to grant you safe passage from Malgros. Used my power to sail us to Itunnan as quickly as possible. Aided you as we swam to shore. Killed the Dread Viper who laid his filthy hands on you. Located your irresponsible, itinerant sister. And most importantly, tonight, I helped you save the man who trapped me inside his wretched body for three hundred years, when all I’ve really wanted to do these last weeks is kill him. And yet, no matter, you still want so badly to see me as the enemy, because the truth is much more difficult to face.”
I fold my arms across my chest, knowing better than to say the words that teeter on the tip of my tongue, and yet I speak them anyway.
“And what truth is that?”
He leans close, the cold rolling off him like a chilled breath.
“That you are intrigued,” he says. “That you would very much like that kiss now. That you are thankful that I was there all the times I was. That it fires your blood with lust to know I killed for you and would do it again.”
I narrow my eyes and shake my head yet again, disgusted and overcome with disbelief. His words aren’t true. They aren’t.
Not even a little bit.
“What about Asha?” I say, and he flinches at her name. “You only desire witches now that there are no goddesses to play with?”
“I desire you,” he says, that last word finite.
“Well, that was a poor choice,” I tell him, “because I am far from the kind of woman you think I am.”
He laughs. Loudly. When he finally stops, he says, “I’ve watched you from within Un Drallag for the last eight years of your life. And I heard you in the wood with your sister and Helena. Pale hair, a brazen attitude, and a big cock are your weakness with men.” He tilts his head, his eyes glowing with delight. “Imagine being with a god.”
Though the air holds a chill, a sweat breaks across the back of my neck. “I’m leaving you here. I don’t care how highly you think of yourself.”
I turn and head toward Joran who still hasn’t roused.
“What if I offer you your king?”
I stop walking and close my eyes. Godsdamn him.
“Colden Moeshka,” he says. “Sitting in a dungeon in Quezira. I can’t get to the prince. I’m certain he remains surrounded. But the only thing trapping Colden there are iron bars, not magick. I can get in and get him out. Quickly. Possibly even the portalist if she’s willing.”
Don’t listen to him, Nephele, I mentally berate myself. Do. Not. Listen.
But my self-control is clearly lacking because I turn around.
“Raina can do that now. We don’t need you.”
He smiles with one side of his mouth. “Then she will risk getting caught by the Brotherhood, and the prince will have the opportunity to punish her for ruining his plans in Frostwater Wood. You, nor Un Drallag, would allow her to step into that sort of danger, but you should hope she doesn’t consider that possibility, because she’s daring enough to try, with or without her sister or her lover’s approval.”
I take a deep breath to steady my nerves, hating that he’s right. “Well, even if I wanted to make this deal with you, I don’t know how to resurrect you.”
“It isn’t so complex,” he says. “You need a remnant or a sacrifice.”
I frown. I’ve heard about the need for a remnant, of course, because of the God Knife. But a sacrifice?
“What sort of sacrifice?” I ask.
He arches a white brow. “A life. That is not the method of choice.”
I cross my arms over my middle. “And I don’t have a remnant of you, so you are out of luck.”
“My remnant is on that fool’s body.” He points at Joran. “Your sister refused to help me locate it, so when I crossed paths with that drunken bastard at Hampstead Loch, I saw opportunity, and I took it. I warned her that I would find a way.”
I narrow my stare. “What sort of remnant?”
