He wasn’t betrayed because Anniliese let Andrian go. No, some instinct told her that he was betrayed because he saw her thoughts and knew the real reasonwhy. She hadn’t done it to aid Kol’s plans or to work in his favor.
She’d done it because she wanted Mariah to prove him wrong by ending his reign for good.
“Anniliese was once one of you,” Kol said, addressing the crowd. “A Lady of a Royal House. Her ancestor sat on the goldenthrone, one of Onita’sall-powerfulqueens.” He snickered, the crowd answering with nervous laughter, the loudest of which rang from Lords Shawth and Donnet near the front of the hall.
Anniliese’s father, standing beside them, was notably silent, his face drawn and pale.
“Now she serves me. She knows those queens have always been nothing more than whimpering pests, ruling by virtue of a power they do not deserve.” Sounds of agreement rolled from Shawth and Donnet.
Anniliese shook as she reached the dais, staring up at Kol. He stared right back, still wearing that smile of dark promises.
“It’s time to prove your loyalty,Priestess.” He swung his gaze to Gabriel, bound and kneeling before them both.
“Burn him.”
Something quaked and choked inside Anniliese. The glowing embers of her magic flickered and thrashed, terror stoking them into a frenzy. Gabriel lifted his head, golden eyes wide with a fear he couldn’t hope to hide.
Anniliese crumbled.
She wished she could go back. All the way back—before her magic had bloomed in her soul, before Kol had pushed through the earth. Before Mariah was taken and Shawth had summoned the Onitan aristocracy to Khento.
When she’d had a chance to tell her father “no” to being involved in the coup against the new queen but had been too proud to do it. She’d seen the temptation of a crown she knew in her heart would never be hers and was too weak and shallow to resist.
Gods, what she wouldn’t give to go back.
She could be happy now. Somewhere far from here, married to a merchant’s son or a minor lordling. Bored out of her mind, but plain and ordinary and safe.
Instead, she found herself staring at a young lord not many years older than herself, tasked with dealing a punishment that would scar them both forever.
Anniliese Hareth lifted a shaky hand, and Kol’s smile widened.
She called her flames forward. They answered far too eagerly. Flickering yellow-gold light surrounded her hand, veiling her fingers in comforting, malleable warmth.
They stayed like that for a moment. Gabriel, panting on his knees. Anniliese, trembling and wreathed in the flames of a goddess she’d never once prayed to.
Slowly, she drew back her flames and lowered her hand. Turned to Kol. Held every ounce of practice, polished grace to herself as she met his gaze.
“I can’t do it, Your Highness.”
“Can’t?” Kol cocked his head. “Nonsense. You will serve, Priestess.” He took three steps down the dais, heels clicking on the marble. Shadows enveloped her as he leaned forward, her body tensing.
“Whether you want to or not.”
When he drew back, smiling darkly again, his shadows struck.
Not her skin; to those observing, they stayed swirling loosely around his form like smoke over an old flame. But in her mind, right at the heart of who she was, she felt them. Thick coils of menacing darkness speared into her consciousness, laughing as they wound and buried in.
She thought she screamed. She thought she doubled over in bellowing agony, every inch of her body in rippling, bleeding, searing pain. There was no way to keep him out; Kol shredded past her sense of self with ancient, malevolent talons.
The quiet, pained man she’d spoken to that night in his study was gone. There was no trace of the god who’d protected herfrom Shawth’s greedy hands, who’d stood up to Ksee against her torment. All that was left was wrathful betrayal.
She should’ve known better than to stand up to a god.
After what could have been seconds or centuries, Kol withdrew from her wrecked mind. The world around them peeled back into focus, but Anniliese watched it all through a hazy lens.
She could feel the shadows slithering through her limbs. Control of her body was wrenched from her, leaving her all but a prisoner within the confines of her own flesh.
It was like theuxosilbut without the blessing of being painless. This was like being a living puppet, hooked to the strings, awake and raw and bleeding.
