I suck in ragged, jarring breaths.
Staring each of them down with a vicious glare. One born of desperation.
“I’m with you, brother,” Ronyn announces, nodding with unfaltering loyalty.
“It’s a fool’s mission, but I’m obviously coming,” Jax huffs, averting her gaze.
“You fucking know I’m with you,” Therion grunts, hurt still heavy in his tone.
Everyone nods.
They know the risks.
They know how slim the chances are.
And they’re with me.
My chest tightens.
They’re fuckingwithme. All of them.
“Leave the horses, and get ready to travel by Gateway,” Mavyrn says without fuss. “I’ll bring us back here once we have Elyssara.”
“Don’t you need something from the place?” Seren asks. “Do you have something from Kryntar?”
Mavyrn grabs me by the shoulder, and plucks a hair from my head. “Him,” she says, gesturing her head towards me.
“Where will you open the Gateway?” Seren presses, hungry for details, for a thorough plan.
The old woman’s mouth lifts into a cunning smile.
“Don’t you worry about a thing—I know my way around Kryntar Castle,” she croons, and the ground begins to rumble, vibrating up through my ribs. The electric buzz of magic fills the pass.
Before us, a Gateway of Threads rips the world apart.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ELYSSARA
Vessira’s eyeswiden in shock as I stride defiantly toward her down Kryntar Castle’s halls. I wear my braids like a crown, my kohl like armor, and my dress like a reminder of what I can survive.
I shove down my pain, set a torch to my despair, and bury my torment. It has no place in battle. It will claw its way out eventually—but not today. Not now.
“You can’t wear that,” she croaks, voice fractured, though I know she’s not thinking of me—her need for self preservation is as obvious as the scars on my back.
“I wear what I want,” I say dismissively, though I swallow down my nerves all the same.
“He’ll flay the skin from your bones,” she pleads, her voice at a fever pitch.
“He’ll flay the skin fromyourbones, Vessira,” I snarl, closing the distance between us, “for you were unable to do the one fucking job that made you valuable to him: break me.”
She closes her eyes in the face of the truth.
“I beg you,” she pleads, voice breaking.
“Would you have stopped ifIbegged?” I ask, tone like a dagger hidden under silk.
She whimpers, because we both know the truth.
