A shadow fell over the courtyard through the open doors. As it lifted again, the moon hung central as if hesitating at its mid-point, the Goddess buying me a few seconds of extra time.
Midnight.
This time, I didn’t call to the magic, I summoned it, forcing it away from safety and down through my body. It leaked through my pores, sticky black streaks running down the lines on my palm.
My nails extended, my fingertips burning. The magic rammed against my skin. I was stronger than the spirits, stronger than my magic, stronger than him.
My legs buckled, and I fell into the prince, my chest colliding with his, mouth inches away from his foul breath. I stamped hard on his toe, simultaneously raking my nails down the back of his hand.
He grunted. His hand reflexively tightened on mine to support my weight, dragging me upward and shifting me from his foot.
The magic thundered through me, pressure releasing in a split-second with a gasp flying from my lips.
He didn’t even blink. His eyes remained intent on mine, surprise and even a flash of pleasure crossing his face.
“I told you. I don’t dance.” I wriggled from his hold and smoothed down my dress. Aware that all eyes were on us, all conversation severed.
A solitary drop of blood splashed onto the marble. He hadn’t even noticed.
But the spirits had.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE COLLECTION
Clement appeared at my side in an instant.
Black slashes were carved into his neck, his tunic torn at the shoulders, the skin underneath charred. He ducked, dragging me to the floor and covered my body with his.
The candles all extinguished with one invisible gust, the moonlight in the courtyard suddenly strangled by the dense clouds. Darkness choked us.
Screams erupted from all sides. Bodies stampeded toward the exits, panic thick in the air. Spirits swooped from the ceiling, tearing at Clement’s back. Penetrating ice-cold spears ripped into my exposed flesh, sizzling my skin. He rolled to cover more of me, squeezing the air from around my body and forcing the spirits to recede.
Heavy bolts thumped across the main doors. The fear grew, the guests now fleeing for the courtyard.
“Behind the altar,” he hissed in my ear, “there’s a passage.” His body rocked as the spirits swarmed. He dug deeper, pressing me further to the ground as he bit back the pain.
“Lilyanna! I can’t leave her.”
“She wants to be here. As long as she survives the night, she’ll be fine.”
Somewhere in the distance, the prince yelled an order for the spirits to find me over the churning mass of people. One by one the fireplaces blinked back to life, congealed gray smoke dissipating.
“We need to go now. I’m not arguing with you, Tam.”
Bony fingers locked around my ankle. I kicked out, hitting nothing but a dense cloud of pressure. It yanked me backward, and I slid out from under Clement.
He grabbed my wrists and dragged me forward. My leg stretched, my tendons extending. My ankle bones ground together in the spirit's grip. Clement pulled harder and my leg shot free. He dragged me to my feet, his arm encircling my waist.
We raced toward the dark altar, the candles swooshing to life behind us, the light biting at our heels. The shadows soared overhead, forced into the corners and away from the heat.
My slippers slid on the stairs, but Clement kept his grip until we rounded the altar. He flung open a trap door in the marble. “In. Now.”
Stale air belched from the pitch-black shaft, and I opened my mouth to argue, but he kicked my legs from under me and threw me into the opening.
Seconds later, he collapsed in the dirt next to me and the lid slammed shut above. Mold and ash swirled into the air.
“Move. They’ll chase us.” He shoved me forward, the passageway barely high enough to stand. The walls clutched at me, rending holes in the sheer fabric of my dress. We descended sharply downhill before snaking left then right. Small eyes in the wood panels allowed brief glimpses of familiar rooms and snatches of perfume, smoke, or decomposing scraps.
