She would find the King. And she would kill him.
Two bloody swords plunked to the soft soil beside her. Damion dropped to his knees, dunking his hands into the stream. Blood washed from his skin, swirling away in pink ribbons.
“What is a heart-place?” he asked her.
“I’m going to take the Crown,” she said to him in a flat voice.
“And then?”
“And then I’m going to kill the King.”
“Glad you’re finally coming around,” he said.
She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Defeating Lavana now will be more difficult,” she said.
“We don’t need to talk about this right now, coz,” he said, rinsing his face.
“It makes no difference, Damion,” she said. “Now, tomorrow, a year from now. No difference.”
“Well then,” he said. “Manticore venom is very rare. If we can extract it, we can sell it.”
“And buy support at court.”
“Now you’re thinking like a Rae.”
“I’m out-of-shape. Fighting Lavana...” She shook her head.
“There are other ways to get rid of a Rae,” Damion said, “if you have the means.”
“Like what? Hiring an assassin? Manticore venom may be valuable, but—”
“What about Endreas?”
She tensed, straining, feeling like a rope frayed in the middle, about to be torn in two.
“What about him?” she asked.
“He saved you, Magda, didn’t he? And I heard him, he prefers you over Lavana. So maybe you can convince him to prove it.”
The rope twisted. She clenched her hands to stop them from trembling. Suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to see Endreas—to kiss him and touch him and drown in his scent. The thought alone stalled the glacial creep scouring her—this inexplicable all-consuming grief-madness that was eating away at her. She couldn’t think about Endreas like that, not when Kaelan was...
The storm-pain resurged, wiping out the cold and Endreas and everything. She slammed her eyes shut against the onslaught of tears, the clash and roar of emotion tore back into her. Being numb and cold and empty had been so much better. She struggled to breathe, clutching at her chest, sure there must be blood pouring forth, great gushing torrents of it. But there wasn’t.
“Magda?” Damion’s voice sounded far away through the melee.
For the briefest of moments, she was back in the air, Kaelan anchoring her as they broke the clouds.
But she ripped away from the memory, coming back to herself, trembling uncontrollably and sobbing.
And then a soft humming came to her.
“Oh, shit,” Damion muttered.
Honey crouched by the stream on Magda’s other side, filling a gourd with water, golden hair trailing down to the ground, smiling.
Lunging, she seized Honey’s arms and shook her. “Stop.”
