Iaoth opened her mouth, but I cut her off before she could speak. “I am not Commanding her.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. “Stadiel is furious with me about losing Heraphia. At least her visions were useful.”
“And whose fucking fault is that?” I snapped. “Not Sylaira’s. Not mine.”
“If I’d only been able to peer into her mind,” she bemoaned for the tenth time. Iaoth’s magic was useful in that way—the Seer’s visions often formed memories, allowing my sister to glimpse what they had.
“Well, you weren’t,” I ground out, tired of this same circle every morning. A threat poised on the tip of my tongue,preparing to leap off and tell her the next time she arrived this early would be her last. If only my Command lasted a lifetime and would tie her tongue to prevent her from speaking of what I’d ordered. That caveat was the reason the two of us had always worked as a pair.
Iaoth’s eyes lit up, an idea dancing behind them that made my shoulders tense. “Which is why I need Sylaira today. I’m sure if she has the right mix of drugs and stones, we can focus her mind on Heraph–”
“Enough,” I snarled, taking a menacing step forward. “You are not using her against her will. I amnotlosing my mate.”
My hand itched to reach out and wrap around her throat, to remind her who of the two of us was strong enough to withstand death.
She regarded me with something that looked like fear, shrinking back the barest amount. “I’ve learned my lesson about sharing power, brother. I’m merely suggesting she comes of her own accord.”
“She will go when she is ready,” I replied, trying to keep my tone even. Regardless, we were leaving in a few days. Even in a gilded cage, we’d be freer among the army than we were in this fucking palace.
A slow smile spread across Iaoth’s lips—one I recognized all too well.
“What?” I gritted my teeth, bracing for the inevitable manipulation.
“I could give her some incentive,” she suggested.
Ice sluiced through my veins. Goddess only knew what my sister would considerincentivizingfor my mate. It was as likely to be something shining and holy as it was to be something sinister and evil.
“Like?” I asked, steel edging my tone.
Iaoth tapped a nail against her temple. “Oh, the same as Ioffer you. After all, she wouldn’t be so rebellious without memories of Heraphia, would she?”
Rage—white-hot and unstoppable—roared inside me, along with black voids in my memory. All the pieces I’d lost and would never regain.
“You do not go near her.” This time, I gripped Iaoth by the shoulders and lifted her off the chair. Her legs dangled helplessly beneath her.
“Put me down!” she insisted, clawing at my bare skin.
“Quiet,” I barked. “If you wake her, I will have no qualms about slitting your throat, Iaoth.”
And for the first time, I realized I truly meant it. Regicide had never been so much as a flicker of an idea before Sylaira came into my life. Now it stalked my every thought.
And I welcomed the treason.
She laughed, though it was a quiet, grating sound that scraped under my skin. “Oh, so she has no idea, does she?”
My grip loosened, and she collapsed backward, barely managing to catch herself. But she righted, straightening her dress with a wicked glint in her eyes.
I spun on my heel, planning to use my magic to shove her out the door if necessary.
“I’ll go, don’t you worry, brother,” she teased, halting me in my tracks. When she caught up to me, she reached up and patted my cheek. I flinched away from her.
My sister merely shook her head and continued onto the door. But a moment before she opened it, she faced me again. “Vaeron?”
I blew out a frustrated breath, my teeth grinding. “Yes?”
“Remember our agreement.” Her triumphant grin made me consider extreme, lethal violence. “And tell Sylaira I’ll see her in a few hours.”
Our agreement. My cage. The price I paid for my failures.
