I glanced at the door, then at the Blackwood matriarch. “I’m glad you moved them here. We don’t know enough about thisissueto allow them free reign of the city.”
“At least we can be sure these aren’t traitors,” Vanya muttered, moving to stand beside her mother. “He wouldn’t do this to his own soldiers, would he?”
I shared a look with Elara before shaking my head. “We can’t be certain of that,” I replied carefully. “Though, based on the limited information we do know, it’s possible he infected those he knew were loyal to us.”
It was something new I could take to Hyperion, at least. I knew he had to be growing tired of my questions regarding the whereabouts of Dante, so maybe this would give him something new to consider.
Vanya visibly shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself again. “How do we help them? Without Ivy?”
My heart clenched. “I don’t know,” I replied honestly. Looking to Elara, I said, “It was Ivy who first recognised the sickness in agents we crossed back in Avalon. She was able to…pullthe darkness out of them.”
“How could she be sure?” Elara asked.
“She cut their wrists,” Vanya said. “Their blood went from red to black. She pulled the dark magic from their veins. Literally.”
“There is a healer in our family,” Elara murmured, pulling her tablet from her belt. “With our family bloodline, do you think a healer could do it?”
I pressed my lips together. Was it possible? Of course. But I was hesitant to risk someone else’s life on this, especially someone who would be needed in the war to come.
But you also cannot risk the lives of those agents, I reminded myself. The poison, or whatever it was Dante used, wasn’t just killing them slowly. It was infecting their magic and eating away at their very essences. They were going to suffer if nothingwas done.
“Get your healer here,” I stated, sparing Elara a look. “Vanya, I don’t want you anywhere near them. Either of you really. Not until we know if this isn’t going to spread.”
Before I could take a step towards the doors, Elara moved in front of me. “No offence,” she said, lifting her chin, “but neither should you. You might be the Queen’s Knight, but I am still the highest authority of the Phoenix Compound, and those are my agents in there. If anyone is going to be overseeing this, it will be me.”
Her words echoed in my ears, making my heart pound. I respected her more for it. But the meaning behind them made my stomach drop.
She was the highest authority the organisation had left. Sir Ya’Dahir was gone, and those who reported directly below him were either compromised or dead.
“We also need you,” I replied, taking a step back. “I recognise you as the standing leader of Phoenix, Elara. I will not disagree with you there, you have my word. But you are theonlyleader we have left from the organisation. And once this is over, you will be needed. For now, we can at least assume I am protected by my mate’s power.”
“Even though she’s not here?” Elara questioned, crossing her arms. I almost flinched from the words, but there was no animosity in her eyes. “I don’t mean that to hurt, Grey, but you could be as compromised as the rest of us right now. From what I understand, her power can’t help you now. And you have other priorities. This is mine.”
A lump formed in my throat as I took in the demons at the doors. She was correct: the agents weren’t mine to worry about—not anymore. “That is your call,” I conceded, stepping back. “And I know you are capable of ensuring their safety.”
Elara bowed her head, turning to her daughter. “Find your cousin and any other Bloodline witch with the healing affinity. Let’s save our agents.”
30
Elias
Iwoke with a gasp and launched myself off the sofa in the corner of the war room. The room had a soft, red glow from the setting sun beyond the large window, but to my surprise—or maybe not—I was alone.
Completely alone to my own cruel memories.
This time, I’d been surrounded by faceless soldiers. Stolen from my cage, pricked with the end of a thorn, and then nothing.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, drawing in deep, calming breaths. In the back of my mind, I was still lost to the darkness, trapped in the pain of a thorn’s prick. Darkness crept in at the edges of my consciousness, like I’d been touched by the Fae poison from my nightmares.
But I ran my fingers down the back of my neck and over my throat, feeling nothing of the sort. I knew I hadn’t been pricked, and yet…
I released a shaky breath and stumbled to the bar Rhadamanthus liked to keep stocked in the corner of the room. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been tempted by the nectar, but I needed something other than the reminder of poison running through my veins.
I made it to the bar with a grunt and grabbed the first pitcher I could find. The topper came off withoutmuch force, the crystal glinting in the soft light coming through the window. The golden liquid within smelled strongly of honey and death, which wouldn’t bode well for anyone else.
But I needed the risk that came with taking a sip of death.
As I poured the drink into one of the fancy crystal glasses the demon liked to keep at the bar, I couldn’t stop my mind from goingback. Not just to the cage. That, for some reason, wasn’t the most horrifying part of my time in Dante’s hold. It was his soldiers; their bloodlust and disregard for us—for the children we’d been. Their pressure to make us shift, to force us to become their mindless weapons…
