Let me go first, Little Witch.
Skylar swats her hand away and Astrid tries to push her off, but then Bastet is there, too, blocking the way.
“No harm comes to Astrid,” Skylar says to Bastet, and he grumbles his agreement. Wait—doesn’t she get a say in this? She’s about to argue when Skylar opens the door to reveal another, much bigger room. There’s a large circular pool in the center, those same strange vines of bark surrounding its perimeter and creeping into the water. It’s emitting a white-blue light that ripples across the pale blue tiles of the walls and the ceiling. Above the pool is a glass dome set in the roof—they’re back aboveground and it must be beyond midday now. Skylar steals inside, Bastet and Astrid following her.
Why do you get to protect me? Why can’t I protect you?Astrid hisses through the bond.
Because you’re worth a hundred of me.
“I am worthnothingwithout you,” Astrid says out loud.
Skylar turns on her, teeth bared. “They’ll not take another person I love from me.”
Astrid heaves a breath and as she does, she spots him. In a corner at the back of the room, between two marble pillars. He’s kneeling, arms spread wide and chained—one to each pillar—chin slumped against his chest.
“Zryan.” Her voice catches in her throat. He stirs but he doesn’t lift his head. She can see the rise and fall of his chest, knows he’s alive. Thank Sqaõi. She moves toward him, but Skylar grabs her hand.
Don’t. Don’t move. Something’s not right.
Bastet prowls forward. PRINCE?CAN YOU HEAR US?
Zryan stirs again and Astrid can’t stop herself. She twists out of Skylar’s grip and sprints for him.
“Zryan.” She falls to her knees, examining him, but there isn’t a mark on him. No blood, wounds, wrappings anywhere on his body. His black shirt and pants appear undamaged. He squints his eyes open, finding hers.
“Dimples,” he breathes, coughing lightly, and she wants to sob with relief.
“What did they do to you?”
“Drugged. Warded. Nullified.” He gasps. “I don’t have my power.”
“Who, who’s ‘they,’ Zryan? Where are they?” And why are there no guards here? His head lolls forward and she lifts it gently, hands on his cheeks, which are rough with stubble. She eyes the manacles at his wrists and flicks her fingers, casting an unlocking spell. They don’t open. She tries again. Nothing. They’ve been warded, then, and she doesn’t have the right vial.Shit. But she does have her poison antidote. She plucks it from her belt and unstoppers it.
“Open,” she says, but he can barely focus on her, so she grips his jaw and opens his mouth, pouring the solution on his tongue. He sputters and she waits, praying it works.
“Astrid,” he says, blinking at her, finally registering the fact that she’s here. “You’re alive.” His voice cracks. She strokes his neck and he trembles under her touch. “Thank fuck, you’re alive,” he says again,then he brings his mouth to hers, brushing the softest kiss against her lips, as if afraid she might not be real, as if the slightest movement might make her disappear.
After a moment, he pulls back—his eyes unfogging, the drugs leaving his system. “You shouldn’t have come, it was a trap, Simone in the dungeons…” But he doesn’t finish what he’s about to say. His face becomes a mask as he stares at her.
“Zryan.” She presses the back of her hand to his forehead. “Zryan, what is it, what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and she realizes where his eyes have landed. On her mate mark.
“Who?” he says, quiet as death. Devastation crumples his features, and she’d laugh with relief if the situation wasn’t so horribly serious.
“It’s not like that—” But he’s looking beyond her to Skylar. To her forehead, and the mark of a silver constellation that glows at her hairline. For Astrid.
“Skylar. Skylar is your mate.” It’s not a question. He launches to his feet, yanking at the chains, focus wholly on those stars on Skylar’s face, his eyes alight with betrayal. “You.” He snarls at his sister. “With the woman I—” He staggers, then stops. Looks at Astrid again, now standing, too, then back at Skylar. “You’re both… alive?”
“Well observed,” Skylar drawls. “And good to know where I stand, Brother, but don’t worry about it, I’d pick Astrid over you, too.”
“Zryan, look at me.” His silver eyes settle on Astrid, flitting to her mate mark. He grimaces.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. As long as you’re alive. As long as you’re alright.” He stumbles back against the wall between the pillars, his strength ebbing. Astrid reaches for him, laying her hands on his shoulders.
“The mating bond is the reason we’re both alive. The Covenant, the wording.” She looks at Skylar, then back to Zryan. “It says only when two heirs become one will the duel end. Well, two did become one. We’re mated, but not romantically like your parents.” Zryan’s eyes flick between the marks again. “It’s closer to what I have with Bastet than what I have with you. Skylar and Bastet, they share my soul. But you”—she runs her hand down his chest and rests it there—“you have my heart.” She leans in, whispers, “I choose you, too, Zryan.”
Astrid has never had a choice about anything in her life. Being the heir, having to duel, hiding away in Isfjell—even Bastet and Skylar; though she wouldn’t change them for all the world, she still didn’t choose them. They were chosen for her. But Zryan. He is hers. Not fated, not tethered, not cursed. A pure, simple choice.
