“No.” I wrench away. “The talisman, there’s something wrong with it. Somehow the Order is controlling me through it.”
He sits upright, his arms locking around my waist, my legs still straddling either of his hips. This does not seem like the kind of conversation one should have sitting in another’s lap, but when I think of shifting back, I just…don’t.
End the exile!
The words scrape through my mind, and a flare of unrelenting agony splits my skull. I clench my teeth as my body begins to shudder.
Taliesin cups my face, his thumbs brushing away my tears. “Angharad, what’s happening?”
“It wants me,” I whisper, gasping, “to kill you.”
Suddenly, I understand there’s only one thing I can do, and I should have done it the moment Taliesin suggested it. I must sever their hold on me. It’s the only way forward. Even with the pain screaming through my skull, I slip from his lap and turn my back to him.
“Take it out,” I gasp.
He hesitates. “Are you certain?”
“Take it out, Taliesin.” Another shudder wracks through me. “Please.”
That’s the only confirmation he needs. He takes a dagger from the bedside table and gently presses it against my neck. Even that small contact sends a new wave of pain throbbing through me. This is going to fucking hurt.
“This might feel sharp, but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
END THE EXILE!
“Cut it out of me, I don’t care. Just get it out now!” I scream so loud the words feel like someone has reached into my throat and ripped them free.
END THE EXILE END THE EXILE END THE EXILE!
I close my eyes and my fingers curl like they’re desperate to reach Taliesin’s neck and suck the life out of him. I don’t know how much longer I can hold it back. Already, I feel like I’m unravelling at the seams. Like something ancient and monstrous is clawing through my bones, wearing my skin like a disguise.
The blade cuts into my aching skin. A hot, white flare blazes through me. I grip the blanket, holding on, biting the insides of my cheeks as the pain builds and builds and—
The talisman pops free from my neck.
The voice dies. The pain ebbs.
I sag forward, still clutching the blanket, and breathe around the panic rattling through me. The small cut on my neck instantly knits itself back together. I can feel it healing in a way I never have before. A strange warmth ripples beneath my skin, as though my magic is stretching free after being shackled for far too long.
Taliesin gently eases me around to face him. His thumbs brush the dampness on my cheeks, and his eyes are so full of concern a nervous laugh slips out of me.
His lips curl as his brow arches. “I didn’t expect you to laugh.”
“A nervous tick,” I say.
His eyes darken. “Are you nervous?”
I wet my lips. “Thank you for doing that. I’m sorry I…”
“Tried to kill me?” He laughs softly. The sound of it rumbles over me like a song I’ve heard a hundred times before. And there it is again—that aching sense of familiarity. There’s a version of me whoknowshim, and when he looks at me, I’m certain that’s who he sees.
“I never came close to saying the word,” I whisper.
“No,” he murmurs. “I don’t suppose you did.”
He holds up the talisman between us, a trickle of blood running down the metal. Reverently, he takes my hand and presses it into my palm. It’s cool against my skin, but it holds no lingering sense of magic, like it’s nothing more than dead metal without a host.
“I’m sorry you had to do that to save me,” he says. “I know you weren’t ready to lose that magic and—”
