Which means he’s breaking me, too.
I do the only thing I can think to do: I speak down the tether.
My darling.
Nothing.
I’m coming, my love.
I hear nothing.
But the ember of hope grows slightly through the tether.
I’m coming for you, Elyssara. Don’t stop fighting.I speak the words down the tether with force.
Nothing.
But the ember blooms this time.
She knows I’m here.
“Move,” I command. “She’s weak. She needs us,” I urge impatiently.
And as we round the corner, closing in on the servant’s entrance, the air feels too quiet. Too still.
“They’re here,” Therion confirms. “Over a hundred.”
They were expecting us. They’re not inside.They were waiting.
Good.
Because no amount of soldiers can slake my fury.
“Remove the cloak,” I command Death. “I don’t hide from those who take what’s mine,” I snarl, my voice like the cold, dark night.
The cloak parts instantly, revealing us as we step around the corner.
More than one hundred. At least one hundred and fifty soldiers stare us down, veins of twisted rot spewing from their necks.
I don’t say anything. I only stalk forward with the promise of violence.
The soldiers form a shield wall, impenetrable and fierce.
Or so they think.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Prince of Nothing,” a female voice croons from behind the wall. A voice I’d know anywhere. A voice of distilled hatred.
Vessira.
She pushes through the ranks with blades in both hands, and they part for her. Warriors with no honor.
“I’ve dreamt of this, Vessira,” I breathe, rapture curling around every word. “The day I’d watch your last breath leave your body.”
But she smirks—an arrogant, dangerous thing.
“How’s that sister of yours going? She was an easy project, Kael—weak. Almost as if shewantedto be broken.Wantedto betray you,” Vessira taunts, but I’m in no fucking mood.
“Where’s my woman?” I grit out, not taking the bait.
