The change in position granted me a temporary reprieve from the lapping flames, the cold air needling my abused flesh and still-smoldering wings.
Fighting the nausea crawling up my throat, I drew my energy inward, thickening the shadows that concealed the inner sanctum of my mind.
I glared at my father’s retreating form as he swept from the chamber, and then Fleshtalker’s face swam before my own.
His mouth stretched in a wide, humorless grin that did not meet his cold black eyes. “Welcome home, Your Highness.”
Chapter
Two
LYRA
Three days earlier . . .
Adriel nearly made it to Sorsha’s private quarters before he began retching. A cold sea breeze whipped across the narrow footbridge, and the prince’s royal guard doubled over the railing and emptied the contents of his stomach.
Sorsha and I stared as he braced a clammy hand on the stone, muscles bunching beneath his leathers. His face was ashen. Messy copper locks stuck to his temples, and his riotous hazel eyes looked glazed.
I didn’t blame Adriel for being sick. My own stomach was in knots, and my chest felt as though it were being crushed by a boulder.
In all the chaos, the royal guard had flown me out of the Dark Palace, leaving Kaden trapped in Dorthus. My mate was now a prisoner in his father’s kingdom, and Semphrys knew he’d been working against him.
“We have to go back,” I said for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“We can’t,” Adriel growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“We can’t just leave him there,” Sorsha snapped. The wind had loosened her long braid, and strands of golden hair fluttered wildly around her beautiful face.
“If you won’t go with me,” I snarled, “then I’ll go by myself.”
“We stand no chance against Semphrys in his current state,” Adriel shot back. “You would blaze into Dorthus to rescue Kaden, only to be taken prisoner and ruineverythingwe have worked for. Semphrys would torture you and warp your mind, forcing Kaden to watch as he broke you. You’d spend the rest of your days attempting to dismantle the veil between realms before dying a husk of your former self. Then we’d have no hope of ending the Dark King.”
My chest tightened at his words, smothering every retort swirling inside me.
“Wewillget him out,” Adriel promised. “But first, we must weaken Semphrys.”
“The only way to weaken the demon king is to restore the Death Bringer’s hands,” I countered.
The Death Bringer was one of the three sisters who wove the tapestry of Fate. Of the Three, she was the only one who could cut a life short. In his reckless pursuit of total immortality, the demon king had severed the Death Bringer’s hands so she could not cut his thread or separate it from the stolen souls he’d bound to his life.
“You said you’ve seen the hands before,” Adriel rasped. “In Mirabella’s crypt.”
“Yes. And Mirabella isn’t exactly an ally. The last time Kaden and I were there, we slaughtered two of her vampires.”
The royal guard sighed, dragging a hand down his sweaty face. “We’ll worry about that when we get there.”
“Even if we somehow persuade her to give up the hands, we still don’t know how to restore them — or if it’s even possible.”
At my words, Adriel whipped around and retched over the side of the footbridge once more.
Sorsha wrinkled her nose. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Earth wielding,” he choked, slumping back against the stone pillar, his face deathly pale. “When I travel a great distance through the earth, especially with a passenger, it makes me . . .”
“Hurl your guts up?” the princess finished.
Adriel nodded weakly.
