Soren doubled over on Thessa’s back as something slammed into her torso—a blade thrown her way. Thessa screeched and reared back from the black dragon as spots filled Soren’s vision. Vaguely, she saw Kelshie readying to throw another dagger and deliver the killing blow.
“Stop,” Soren rasped.
But only hate burned in her sister’s eyes. Years as a soldier had taken her kindness or mercy. The stern, sweet sister Soren remembered from childhood was gone, and now, she was met with a choice.
Live or die.
Kill or be killed.
She reached out a hand, as if to try and touch Kelshie one more time. Her sister threw the dagger at the same moment Death and Night descended in a cloud of fury, darkening the sky. Soren’s vision blurred as the wyverns cried out, their riders limpas they fell from the sky. Below, screams cut through the air, ringing in her ears.
She realized she did want to die today, not again. There was a sweeter song beckoning her now.
Revenge.
She wanted to kill both the kings who had caused the gaping hole in her heart. They had turned her into what she was now.
A monster.
She hoped they enjoyed what they created. It was her last thought before she slipped limply off Thessa’s back.
Chapter 23
Rain had comewith the dark clouds—Nyx’s tears, crying for her lost child. He could feel the sorrow in each drop, but he had no sorrow left for the goddess. She had doomed her daughter to this fate as much as anyone else.
Night and Death stirred in his arms, whimpering softly as Heles landed, Thessilnn just behind them. Beyond, in the camp, Aren’s forces gathered prisoners and ran blades through those too injured to be useful. He ignored them, his eyes on the blood steadily leaking from her arm and abdomen. Her lips were pale as the silvery strands of her hair stuck to her forehead. He brushed the hair aside—she hated having it in her face—then slid off Heles and hurried for camp.
Through his mask, soldiers stared at him warily, some of them shrinking back despite the way they had praised him mere hours ago.
Good.
They should be afraid of what would happen to them, to the world, should she not survive.
Chapter 24
A vaguely familiarvoice pulled Soren from the depths. She blinked heavily, wincing as consciousness brought with it pain. Her belly was on fire, aching and sore, and her arm didn’t feel much better.
“Vane. She’s awake.”
The soft voice paired itself with an unexpected face. “Anabeth?” she croaked.
The scribe’s daughter smiled. “Glad to see you’re awake.”
But as Soren’s vision became clearer and her mind caught up, she realized Lady Anabeth was familiar for more than one reason. She had been in the cavern that night, hovering next to the other woman, the goddess who had performed the ceremony.
Now, Soren remembered the truth. ‘Lady’ Anabeth was not real. She was truly the demi-god daughter of the goddess Juno, and one of the only souls who had known about her and Vane before they had been betrayed.
It was all becoming so clear now.
Soren jolted and Anabeth gently caught her shoulder. “Soren, it’s okay,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Was it you?” Soren asked, ignoring the near-agonizing pain as she sat up.
Anabeths’s brow creased, and she glanced back. Soren followed her eyes to the entrance of the tent, where Vane lingered, his stance tense and his arms crossed over his chest.
“You didn’t tell me she remembered,” Anabeth said, brow raised as she looked at him.
His jaw rippled. “I said she remembers some. I didn’t realize she would recognize youyet, beyond the way she knows you in this lifetime.”
