His breath came in wet, rattling gasps. For the first time, Elora saw it, genuine fear behind his eyes.
“This isn’t over.” He spat a mouthful of blood into the sand and backed away toward the Institute. Staggering, broken,defeated.
Now.
Elora bolted.
Scooping up her satchel, her legs trembled beneath her but fueled by adrenaline. The dinghies were there, waiting, her only shot at escape.
She reached the first dinghy, and didn’t waste a second. Throwing herself into the boat, she grabbed the oars and pushed off, slipping into the dark water.
Her hands shook as she rowed, her muscles burning with each pull. She glanced back at the shore, her eyes searching for any sign of pursuit.
Viliam was still there, though she couldn’t see Thorn anymore. The nightglider’s golden eyes met hers one last time, a silent farewell passing between them. He had bought her the time she needed, and she knew he wouldn’t let Thorn follow her.
Chapter 43
Tehvan
Tehvan feigned composure as he directed the wards in cleaning up the debris and shattered glass, though his mind raced with worry. The alchemy lab was foggy with smoke, the remnants of his diversion crackling faintly.
He focused on the rhythmic beat pulsating from his ring. Elora’s heartbeat. It had been wild, erratic for a time, as though she’d been running or hiding, her panic tangible even from a distance. Now it had slowed, steadying into a pace that made his chest ache with a cautious, fragile hope. Had she gotten away?
“Clear the tables, move those ingredients out of here!” He pointed to different sections of the lab, directing the wards. It was an excuse to stay occupied, to distract himself. But the wards had little time to react before the doors crashed open with a deafening bang.
Thorn stormed in, his once-imposing figure now a ruin of blood and ragged breath. The room went deathly still. Even the guards, who had long learned to stand rigid under his scrutiny, hesitated, glancing at each other as if silently confirming what they were seeing.
His face was a twisted mask of fury, but beneath the rage, he lookedwrecked. Blood had soaked through his collar, a thick, wetstain spreading from the jagged wound where part of his ear had been torn away.
His right hand—if it could still be called that—was clutched to his chest, fingers barely intact, a gnarled mess of shredded flesh and exposed bone. He was breathing too hard, his chest heaving in uneven bursts, but the fire in his eyes shone as fiercely as ever.
Did Elora do all that?
Tehvan had scarcely a second to school his expression before Thorn’s eyes locked onto him.
Internally, his emotions warred. He should have felt satisfaction,should have, after everything Thorn had done, after all the pain he had inflicted. And yet, as he took in the ruin of his brother, bloodied and broken, a subtle nuance existed beneath the grim sense of justice. A deep, buried instinct, impossible to ignore.
He’s still my brother.
But there was no time to dwell on that.
“By the gods, Abernathy,” he breathed, stepping forward, eyes wide with horror. He reached out but hesitated just before touching him, as if afraid of making it worse. “What happened?” His voice was low, urgent, exactly what someoneloyalwould sound like.
The wards and guards remained motionless, awaiting Thorn’s reaction, but Tehvan moved without hesitation. He gestured sharply to one of the nearby guards. “Get a healer—now!”
Thorn didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t even glance at the guard who rushed off at the command. His fury was too all-consuming, his eyes burning into Tehvan as if daring him to speak one more word.
“Prepare the boats!” Thorn shouted to the remaining guards. “Double the patrols at the docks and sweep the shorelines. I want her foundnow.”
She got away.Though relief coursed through him, he knew Thorn couldn’t suspect it. He needed to appear worried, as though the thought of Elora outside his reach unsettled him.
“Who?” he asked, his voice carrying an anxious edge. His brows knit together as he took a step toward his brother, eyes wide with concern.
Thorn’s gaze narrowed, watching him closely, a mocking smile twisting his lips. “Elora,” he replied, the name a harsh bite.
Tehvan’s expression didn’t falter, but he let a flash of worry cross his face, just enough to suggest he was as unsettled as Thorn was.
“Elora?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “No. How? When did she…”
