Stepping through the door, she stared down the long, white corridor and pressed a hand against her temples. This was a nightmare. What was she going to tell the Prime? That the man Drake sought to free was long gone, lost in a mire of madness brought on by the backlash of his own powers. That sorcery had cost the Prime his bastard son's wits?
"Wait."
The sound rasped through a dry throat.
Ianthe's head jerked up, her breath catching. Slowly she lowered her hand and turned around.
Rathbourne's glittering eyes locked on her. "You."
Throwing himself against his chains, he strained hard. Muscle gleamed in the tattered remnants of his shirt, his biceps tightening as he fought to free himself.
"Shadow-lady," he whispered, yanking again and again, until blood shone on his dirty skin. "I remember you."
Despite the chains, she felt not at all safe. "Stop it." Ianthe forced her voice to remain hard. He'd not take well to kindness, not from her. "This exercise is pointless. You shall only hurt yourself."
The gleam of his bared teeth was the only answer.
Ianthe took a step inside the cell. Show even a hint of fear, and he'd tear her apart. She let her aura flare, dropping her wards for a brief second. Rathbourne froze, his eyes showing white as he saw power fill her. It was a sign that at least his mental acumen and abilities had not been entirely broken.
"Serve me," she whispered, "and I shall let you out of your chains."
"I'd rather rot."
"And let your enemies win?" she asked, stretching out one petite, white-gloved hand.
He flinched, and Ianthe forced herself to stretch those last few inches to touch him. "I know you think me an enemy," she murmured, stroking her gloved thumb along that roughened jaw.
"You put me in here."
"I did. Do you remember why?"
Those dangerous eyes dropped away, losing their focus. "I–I–There was a fire."
Not a fire. Not quite. This close to him, she could see the marks still. See where they'd burned their way into his flesh, gleaming scar-slick through the tears in his shirt. Perhaps it was best to let him believe that flames had scored those marks into his chest, and not a demon's wrath.
"I will let you out, Rathbourne, but you must do this one thing for me first. You must let me bind you, to make certain you're no danger to myself, or anyone—"
"No! I remember you, shadow-binder. I know what you are."
Shadow-binder. She stroked her other fingers along the floor, and caught the edge of the nearest shadow, letting it trail closer, the shadow-web trapped by the edges of her fingertips. "You know nothing, Rathbourne." If he denied her this, then she would stand alone against her enemies, alone against all who tried to destroy her cause.
And the cost... the cost of losing was unacceptable.
Louisa... Oh, God.
His thigh flinched away from the shadows as they drew nearer. Ianthe leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "I need a Shield, and you need an Anchor. Allow this binding, and once we are done, you shall be free to exact your revenge on all of those who saw you placed here. I swear."
His head turned, breath rasping. "Even you?"
No matter what the price... "If you help me find what I'm looking for, then I shall release your bond at the end of our terms of service. You may do to me as you will. Or you can attempt it." She was not without her own forms of protection, after all. She was no longer the foolish young girl he'd entranced that long-ago Equinox.
Those tiger-eyes turned thoughtful, watching the shadows under her touch disperse. "Two weeks of service."
It should be enough time. "I'll need your oath that you will agree to the binding once we are quit this place."
"By my Power, I shall let you bind me. I shall not hurt you, or yours, and I shall obey all directives."
Ianthe let out the breath she'd been holding. Thank goodness. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she couldn't let him see how much she needed him. "I accept." Leaning forward, she pressed her lips lightly to his, tasting the vow on his tongue and drawing it within her mouth.
