He pulled the ring off his finger. In seconds, as if my vision had merely blurred, Varian Ilya appeared, standing in Reagan’s exact clothes.
Varian lifted his hand, the ring catching the faint light as he turned it lazily between his fingers. “A glamour relic,” he said heedlessly, as though we were discussing the weather. “Simple to forge, really, if you’ve got blood or hair from the one you wantto mimic. And getting his...” He chuckled, low and cold. “Well, it wasn’t exactly difficult. He came for my throat in your honour at the Rite.” The grin that spread across his face was cruel and entirely too amused. “His recklessness and anger will always be his downfall.”
My back pressed against the rough wood as I tried to put as much space between me and the others as possible. Their eyes, hard and indifferent, followed my every move. Their tattoos were exposed enough for me to recognise. Scions.
“Why take me?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
Varian dropped himself onto the sofa as if he owned the entire room, his lips curling as he caught the scent of the worn cushions. “Because, of all the ways I could piss off my dear cousin today, you were the easiest one.” He gestured to the other end of the room. “You should sit. It’s going to be a while.”
I ignored the invitation, my lips pulling back in a grimace. “You kidnapped me just to irritate him? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“That’s the truth,” he said. “But you’re far too simple-minded to grasp the bigger picture. Pissing him off today is just the start. And, actually, it works in Mountheim’s favour.”
Why? Because he thought he could lure Reagan here?
“So this is your plan to take Mountheim? Sabotaging him, making him angry because of me?” I asked. “You should’ve taken Cerridwen or Gwinifer. They’re his family.”
Varian’s gaze pinned me, dark humour dancing in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he mused. “But they’re also harder to capture. And...I still think I took what will enrage him the most.”
His words from the Rite slithered back into my mind. I moved before I thought, my fists clenched. I stalked towards him, hot anger filling me as I readied myself to swing.
But the Scions were faster.
One of them seized me by the neck, his grip firm enough to send a warning but not tight enough to cut off my breath.
The adrenaline rose too quickly. My knee shot up, slamming into his groin. His grunt of pain was satisfying enough, but I didn’t stop. As his grip faltered, I struck his throat, forcing him to release me completely.
I barely had time to recover before the second Scion moved. His hand cracked across my face, the back of it hitting with enough force to send me reeling. Stars danced in my vision as I stumbled back, catching myself against the wall.
“I didn’t say you could hit her, Caius,” Varian said sharply, his voice cutting through the chaos. His reprimand held no warmth, no concern for me—only the cold authority of someone who expected to be obeyed.
I didn’t look at him. My focus was on the searing pain in my cheek, my fingers feeling the spot where the skin had split. Blood trickled down, warm against my chilled skin.
“I thought the plan was to make him angry,” Caius said, his tone almost eager. “We should hit her everywhere.”
The words made my stomach churn. Varian’s face betrayed nothing—no anger, no shock—just the faintest curl of his lip as he regarded Caius.
“No. I won’t be a lord remembered for barbaric violence. I’ll leave that distinction to my cousin.”
A laugh slipped from me, short and bitter, before I could think better of it. “No, you just unleash Grims to attack families with children. How noble.”
Varian’s gaze swung to me. “That was a calculated risk. Mountheim is now convinced of how weak their lord truly is. They’ll thank me when they have someone stronger to lead them.”
I scowled. “Because strong rulers will put them in danger.”
“Strong rulers will make sacrifices for the good of the estate. Reagan, on the other hand, does nothing that doesn’t serve his own selfish agenda. When the judge declared him unfit, he refused to step down. Threw a violent tantrum in court, like a spoiled brat. Tell me, does that sound like a ruler to you?”
Of course he would seize on that incident. He had the audacity to claim some moral high ground about this.
“Would you leave your people to suffer under someone unfit to rule, or would you try to do something about it?” he pressed, his voice smooth, persuasive. “I’m saving the estate. My cousin would let Mountheim fall into ruin before giving it up. I take it you agree since you’ve stopped running your mouth.”
The silence wasn’t agreement. It was loathing so deep I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed, a crack in his carefully constructed mask of control.
“If you actually cared about protecting Mountheim, you’d be working with him. Helping him find real solutions for the soil, for the defence.”
