As they refused to take off the Evellum manacles, they wouldn’t allow me to bathe or change, so I sat in the same filthy, torn leggings and tunic I’d been wearing for almost a week. I stank. Not that I cared. Numbness coated my skin, pierced every breath. The man I loved was about to be killed. Romero assured of his victory. He’d gained his converted empire. His throne built on the blood of those he’d slaughtered.
I prayed the empress would end him slowly. I pressed my non-existent nails into my palms, wishing I’d live long enough to see the light leave his eyes.
The sun weakened. I shuffled against the stiffness in my legs, welcoming it as the only sensation I had right now, when the door opened.
I glanced up, and knee-high boots over thick tree trunk legs strode forward. Ifan knelt and, grabbing my hair, lifted my shattered gaze to his.
I spat straight into his face. He grimaced, and I wondered how someone who could share so many of Matthias’s featurescould be so fucking ugly. He yanked my head, wiping the saliva from his cheek.
‘Never understood what he saw in you,’ he said, one knee on the ground while his arms crossed and he stared at me. ‘I warned him you were too feral to be queen.’
‘If you want to gloat, fuck off, Ifan. You’ll burn in the flames of Vyrus for your betrayal.’
He snorted. ‘It’s not me who’s going to burn in those flames though, is it?’ He leaned in closer, and I shook as he radiated tainted heat. ‘But it doesn’t have to be that way, Sorrow.’
I raised my chin, my hair falling in knotted clumps about my face.
‘What would you say if I could stop you becoming a Tribute? What if I could save you?’
‘M… Matthias?’
He tutted, and shook his head. ‘Afraid not. He’s too blind to the world, bit like you. He’s always got to do the right thing. Matthias never understood you need to slice out rot; he always believed it could be healed. So, sorry, but my useless brother isn’t part of the bargain.’
I closed my eyes. He wouldn’t see me cry. I should have realised Ifan suffered no remorse for his actions.
‘But there’s a chance for you. I’ll even throw the wolf in, but only if you agree to my terms…and stick to them. You even think about betraying me and I’ll have a new wolf skin cloak quicker than you can say “Tribute”.’
I glared at him, my burning body quaking. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear. I twisted away from him, bile churning in my guts.
‘I know what else you can do, Sorrow. I know you can raise the dead.’
He leaned back, a wide grin splitting his face as the colour left mine. ‘Imagine what a power like that could do on a battlefieldfull of corpses? With all the Vyrium we’ve found, thanks for leading us to that by the way, and a Deviant who can control the beastsandthe dead? I’d finally stand a chance against the empress. Swear allegiance to me, Sorrow. I’ll protect you, and the wolf.’
I stared at him, my chest heaving with the effort of holding back all I wanted to scream. But this was a chance to save Pab – I couldn’t care less about myself. I wasn’t sure how I’d go on after losing Matthias again. Didn’t know if I’d want to. Could I truly ally myself with the bastard who’d turned against him? Against his own country for a sliver more power?
‘Fuck you,’ I croaked, returning my gaze to the floor.
‘No,youwon’t.’ He stood. ‘But your sister will.’
My head flew up.
‘Did the new emperor forget to tell you? You’re not the only one to wed an Elmswood.’
I tried to stand, ready to bite the fucker, but my numb legs buckled and, hissing, I crashed sideways.
‘Enfys is going to be mine. It’s the new way. A new alliance. Think on what I said, Sorrow. Think of the little happy family we’ll be, if only you swear allegiance to me. You’ll be coming to the rescue of your sisterandthe wolf.’
As the door slammed, the feeling returned to my legs and I threw myself at it. Screaming, hammering and kicking all my frustration till the rays of the sun faded into streaks of moonlight. I slumped against the wood, tears streaming down my filthy face.
CHAPTER 38
Legend speaks of a Deviant with a third gift. A man whose power was unmatched, unheard of. Little is known about him, except it’s said he drunk himself into an early grave trying – and failing – to balance his gifts.
— GLESNI GRACE’S ADVICE FOR MENTORS: THIRD EDITION
I slumped against the door, my frustrations, my anger somewhat spent. My breath misted before me as the blurry raindrops tracked down the windows.
All I’d got in return for my raging was bloody wrists from where the icy cuffs slammed into my skin. I picked idly at a scab, thoughts swirling through my head. Plans, ideas, desperation swimming about, always coming back to the same conclusion.
