Frost curled around my fingertips.
“I expect nothing from you,” I said through gritted teeth. “Get yourself into a situation like that again, and I will happily let you die. There is only one Mercy Gate.”
His eyes paused on mine, and for a fleeting moment, the turquoise almost seemed to glow. My stomach lurched in traitorous response. I blinked, and he wasn’t even looking at me any longer. It was nothing but a ridiculous trick of the light.
I forced myself to look away from him. The gate had dropped us into a snow-covered meadow. Garrick and I were near the southern edge, the rest of the surviving supplicants spread out across the clearing. I counted quickly—six remained. Everyone but the doe-eyed young woman who I’d seen fall—the one that Rilk had thrown to her death.
How was that mercy? What had Rilk done to prove himself to the Goddess of Mercy? I’d saved Garrick, but the fae female he’d been so chummy with the night before hadn’t stopped to help him. Nimra had let the girl get away, for all the good it had done her. Nash had given Rilk his last arm up over the ledge. But what about the others? What had Seraxa seen that had proved them worthy?
Fuck, I was spiraling. I could not let that happen—not with that behemoth of a man looking on.
A cramp burned in my side as I tried to take a deep breath. Maybe the true mercy would have been ifI’dfallen down into that crevice. My coven sisters wouldn’t be sent on hopeless treks to give me even more hopeless challenges, and Kyrelle wouldn’t have to deal with my twisted loyalty anymore.
A growl of surprise echoed from above me—just as a cry peeled from my own lips to match.
My arm burned, a plume of fire from my shoulder down to my fingertips. I ripped off my fingerless glove, expecting to see my skin searing red. But my palm was pale, and the sizzle disappeared as quickly as it had come on, narrowing to a single point of familiar burning pain.
My stomach dropped to the icy ground.
I’d felt that burn once before in my life—or rather, in my death. Power and magic always came at a price.
With my glove gone, I could see it clearly. There, inked on the inside of my wrist, was a new tattoo.
“The Lifebind.”
No, it was not possible.
“Most consider it a blessing from Seraxa,” Garrick said, lifting his own arm to the gray light overhead to examine the mark closer.
Most.Not him, and certainly not me.
“Most people save the life of someone they actually care about,” I bit back, snatching the edge of my sleeve and dragging it down over my wrist. Unlike Garrick, I had no desire to examine the new brand inked on my skin.
That was what it was, a brand that declared two things—the favor of Seraxa, and the new bond between Garrick’s life and mine. My stomach flipped; I wasn’t sure which would be more dangerous. The gods were jealous beings. But now there would be no escaping him. No avoiding him.
“Why? Why?” I yelled, first to him, then up at the sky as if the Goddess of Mercy could hear me. “It was the Mercy Gate! Saving him was an act of mercy! It was the bare minimum, not deserving of this!”
Garrick’s brows, two shades darker than the pale hair on his head, lifted in amused unison. Unlike me, he apparently did not feel the need to yell.
“You exposed yourself for my sake,” he said. “They all know your secret now.”
I knew that. But I followed his gaze, tracking Rilk, who’d recovered enough to crawl across the meadow to his new master, Nash.
I should have let Garrick die, I realize. That would have been the best thing for me. My secret would have died with him, and I’d have eliminated a dangerous competitor. He’d boasted that the gates would kill me. But if at any point he’d seen me as a threat, I knew he was more than capable of doing the job.
But none of that had entered my mind when I offered him my hand or when I’d used my power to help us reach the gate.
How many times would I play out this same series of disastrous decisions? Had my death not been enough? My banishment?
Offering him your hand was a decision made by your heart, not your mind, a barely remembered voice whispered from the recesses of my consciousness.
My heart was dead, the one part of me that had not been resurrected. I had to stop pretending otherwise.
Garrick jerked his sleeve back down, covering the Lifebind tattoo.
“Congratulations, Koryn. Now you have a protector and you can use your witch magic freely.” The way his eyes narrowed kept me from correcting his words. Witches were gifted power by the Dark God. Fae were born with magic. I expected someone who’d made a life off of Velora’s misfortune to know that key difference.
A knot formed between his brows as he looked me over, considering. “Perhaps it was not such a merciful act, after all.”
