“How generous.” I reach for a piece of bread. Still warm. Buttery. Soft as clouds. Of course it’s amazing. Even his taste in carbs is infuriating.
I tear off a bite and talk through it. “But why even keep me? I could disavow Athanasius at any moment and then I’m useless to you.”
“Youwon’t,” he replies smoothly, without a pause. “You need to be in front of him. I doubt you’d do it even then. He’s poured his honeyed wine into your ear, and youlovethat.”
I ignore him. What I don't love is being psychoanalyzed by a walking romantic tragedy with pirate buckles and villainous cheekbones.
“He finds value in you,” Ambrose continues. “Therefore, so do I. You’ll stay with me.”
I sigh and lean back against the pillow he fluffed like a doting innkeeper from hell. “He’ll come for me,” I say, low and certain. “I released him. You know what that means. So what areyougoing to do when he shows up knocking?”
“If he can find us.” Ambrose leans back in the chair like he’s posing for a Renaissance painting, all casual limbs and golden sin. The devil probably looks like him. Jeez, I am trying so hard to make this man villainous in my mind. Yes, he stabbed me, that's enough, but he's being calm, gentle, understanding. He taps his foot in the air, rhythmic and irritating.
“Where are we?” I ask, eyes narrowing.
He grins, and it’s pure smug. “Everywhere and nowhere. The last place he’d expect.” Ok, Howl and your moving castle. Riddles and drama. Typical magic-boy nonsense. “Now,” he continues, as if he’s beendyingfor this moment, “you’d like to know why I hate them.Him.Right?”
“Since you’re so keen on telling me…” I stab a piece of pineapple. The tragic princess will need to be rescued from this tower. I could try and do it myself, but eh, he'll come. Athy has to. “Go on. Talk your shit.”
And gods help me, I’m actually kind of curious. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud. Not to him.
Chapter thirty
Find Her
Athanasius
Theearthcracksbeneathmy fist.
Power sears through my arm, sinking into the soil like a venomous promise. The ground groans, shudders, then splits open in long, jagged scars. Wraiths—my faithful devourers—drag themselves free from the dirt, slick with shadow and malice. Their empty eyes shimmer faintly, catching the glow of my tattoos.
They bow low. As they should. Whispering and wavering like mirages in front of my gaze.
“Find the mage,” I command. “FindIone. Report.Onlyreport. Do not touch her, or I’ll tear your essence apart thread by thread and scatter it across ten thousand cursed moons.”
They incline their heads, bowing low before vanishing without a sound, melting back into the earth like smoke into nightfall.
I exhale, slow and sharp. The rage coiled beneath my skin doesn’t ease—it never does—but directing it gives it shape. Purpose.
Luciara, ever the cautious sun between branches to my blessed moonlight, approaches. Her antlers glint in the dim light like the twisted crown of a forest queen, and her voice is velvet-soft, lined with warning. “That was dangerous,” she says. “Wraiths are violent. Unpredictable.”
“Iamdangerous,” I reply coldly, not bothering to look at her. “They bend to me. Like everything else. You may leave now, sister.”
She doesn’t, of course. None of them know how toleavewell enough.
Chronomir’s dry scoff rings out as he steps forward, all time-worn wisdom and infuriating balance. “Yes, yes. Go find your precious Ione. But don’t forget what you’ve become. Your power has returned, Athanasius. You’re not a mortal fool chasing affection. You are aPrimordial. Our seats of power call to us. You should return. Settle into what you are.”
“I amwhatI am,” I snarl. “Andnothingmatters more than her. The world will wait. The stars will wait. Eventimewill wait.” How has she done this? Crawled so deeply into my skin that I cannot imagine her anywhere but by my side? It is a weakness, but I will not lie to myself, I'd fall into her honeyed words again and again.
“I don’twait,” Moireth says softly, stepping closer, her fate-threads dancing around her wrists like whispers of prophecy. “But I will help. If you—”
“No.” I cut her off with a flick of my hand. “You have your power. You have your path.Leave.I will find her myself. And when I do, I’ll grind the mage to dust and scatter him to the winds.”
Luciara frowns. “This is a trap, Athanasius. You know it. He took herto hurt you.He wants you reckless. Youcannotbe killed, but she can…" Luciara sighs. "You don’t know what he’s doing to her.” Her voice tightens. “If youloveher, you’ll think this through. Carefully.”
I round on her, power bleeding from my skin in thick waves. “Wait?You want me to wait?” My voice cracks like a whip. “Ifelther pain. Ifeelitstill. She’s longing for me, crying for me in silence. Her soul calls to mine like a drowned song—and ittormentsme.” My claws dig into my palms, silver light seeping between my fingers. “She belongs to me. Everystrandof hair, everyinchof skin, every breath she takes ismine. And I will not rest—cannotrest—until I have her in my arms once more. To take or harm a consort is a crime. A curse. And it ends indeath. The mage willsuffer.”
Moireth nods slowly. “I agree. But remember hercomfort, Athanasius. The body remembers pain. Too much of it, and she won’t be the Ione you knew. She’ll turn into someone else.”
