Blue light—bright and blinding—filled the room.
“What the…” His captors froze, turning back toward the bed. Their grips on him remained strong, but something in the air shifted.
A savage, wicked growl tore through the room. Quentin’s head snapped up, fighting to glance over his shoulder.
The air left his lungs.
Delaynie was gone. Beside the bed, where she’d been seconds before, were three more men, swords held in trembling hands.
They slowly backed away from the massive, towering wolf with cream-colored fur, the tips of her hackles along her back and shoulders fading to a deep auburn red. The wolf’s lips were lifted in a dangerous snarl, fangs glistening in a jaw that could sever limbs.
The wolf swung her head around the room, as if searching for something. Her icy-blue eyes finally landed on Quentin, a fierceness he would know anywhere flashing in their depths.
Quentin’s limbs trembled in his captors’ hold.
“Little wolf.”
Chapter 75
Andburgh. Gone. Burned to ash.
The world beneath Mariah’s feet tilted. Andrian gently grabbed the informant’s letter from her hands. She didn’t know if the anger that rose up fast in her chest, pooling beneath her ribs like a noxious river, belonged to her or if it spilled over from their bond.
It was probably hers. It felt too hot and poisonous, too violent and vindictive, to belong to Andrian alone.
It was a strange feeling, to mourn and rage over the loss of something that should’ve meant nothing. Mariah had no love for Andburgh—she’d spent most of her life wanting nothing more than to run as far from it as possible.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t once her home.
That it wasn’t the place where her father had first taught her how to throw a dagger or swing a sword. That it wasn’t the place where she’d raised her horse and broken him to ride, where she and her brother had chased each other endlessly through the birch trees and fields of wildflowers.
That it wasn’t where her mother had taught her the importance of being true to herself in a world that would try to force her into a perfect, powdered mold.
Andburgh held a lot of darkness, yes. But it also held so many of Mariah’s happy memories. She’d never wanted to return, but she’d never wanted it harmed, either.
Now Kol had taken it from her. Just as he’d taken so much else. He’d stamped his foul mark on this last piece of her innocence, burning it from the world just as he did all else.
“Mariah.”
She lifted her gaze to meet one of crushing tanzanite, shadows swirling in their depths. “He attacked my home.”
“I know.” A muscle worked in Andrian’s jaw. “I know.” His hand found her arm, squeezing gently. “I know your memories of that place were complicated,” he murmured, “but I still wanted to go with you there one day. To see the Ivory Forest you grew up in. I wanted to know that part of you.”
Mariah closed her eyes, throat burning.
Kol had targeted Andburgh for a very specific reason. One that Andrian’s words had captured so perfectly in every painful, heart-shattering way.
Resolve settled in her gut like a stone. “I need a moment.”
She padded to the still open window, stepping back onto the balcony overlooking the city and lake below. She lowered to the ground, crossing her legs over each other and closing her eyes.
When she dragged in a deep, cleansing breath, the world quieted.
She hadn’t been able to open her bonds earlier. She knew she’d told Andrian she would try; that’s why she’d sent him to the meeting with theVigamor. So she could have some peace and silence to wade through stale, murky bonds that burned bright but were stretched by distance.
But when she’d tried to do it, when she’d sat here and stared at the peace of Eyarfell, she couldn’t. Something held her back—fear, self-doubt, uncertainty. It didn’t really matter what it was, only that when he returned, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.
It was different now.
