He didn’t take a step forward.
Didn’t lash out.
Didn’t do a fucking thing.
Because he couldn’t.
I’d seen to that.
Sure enough, he scrubbed his hand over his face, then managed through gritted teeth, “We have an agreement.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” I spun on my heel and headed for the sunken pool. “Now get out.”
I smiled to myself as I felt his resistance through some snarling and mutterings.
But then with a burst of Celestial speed, he left the room, albeit slamming the door closed behind him.
With a flick of my magic, I locked the door for good measure.
Then I stripped and sank into the healing waters.
I hadn’t known I could ease the situation with those veins and fissures plaguing him until I’d touched the Fuel Core for the first time today. I’d learned a lot when I’d done that and had just enough time to study it without prying eyes—all the necromancers had been busy assisting him, gathered outside the palace and sending their power up onto the mortal plane. One such intriguing thing had been that Ruxnoth wasn’t just using his magic to fuel the core. He also had his lifeforce bound to it in a large part. And what was I if not death? A counter to such a thing. More notably in this particular case with what I’d been able to do—a controller of death.
In a sense.
Fortunately, with the complexities involved, one that didn’t harm the Valley.
Although, to continue on in that manner would cause a destabilization to the balance, so I did need to be careful. Well, we were all walking a fucking razor’s edge right now, weren’t we?
I shot a look at the door, even though I’d locked it—I was probably in a state of hypervigilance.
Satisfied the coast was clear, I called my amber magic, Wraith frost and shadows all at once, melding them into a single glowing film that I swept over my right wrist.
Then a shimmering amber bracelet came back into view. Hidden behind an illusion.
Rex had been wrong when he’d said if I invoked my magic while in this pool infused with Ruxnoth’s power, the bastard would feel it. I’d let him continue to believe that because I’d needed that boost of his power when I’d been too weakened at the time to be able to send that sphere to my mom.
He didn’t know I could create illusions.
Other necromancers outside of my dad and I couldn’t.
Just like I’d learned lately through this whole ordeal, when it came to dealing with extreme manipulators and puppet masters, countering that and holding your own in the face of that onslaught came down to equal parts guarding acquired intel and disseminating it strategically and selectively. In ways the target—or abusive bastard with an insane-level god complex—wanted to hear.
“Love you all,” I murmured, rubbing the bracelet forlornly.
It connected me to the gemstone I’d forged for them.
When I’d pulled Ruxnoth and Sanctus back earlier, my magic had been within proximity to them, so I’d been able to connect to them, use our deep bond as a foursome and the familiarity of our magic interacting together—and other such things—to forma powerful enough anchor that would hold even between planes. It would enable me to communicate with them.
I just had to be careful when I did that.
Basically whenever Ruxnoth was immersed in his own restorative sessions and also when those necromancers who were deeply in his fucking pocket were also distracted or otherwise engaged.
Having to wait after I’d finally been able to put that in place wasn’t exactly an easy thing to swallow down.
But I had to.
Things were precarious.
