“We were not finished,” he said in clear Krystopolitan.
“There is nothing more to be discussed,” she replied coldly. “If you are after trinkets in a satchel, you’d best be on your way, for I have none to give.”
The beads threaded through his braids clicked again as he tilted his head.
Watching. Measuring.
Auryn’s heart dropped into her stomach.
“I have come to reclaim that which you stole from mybloodline.” He raised his hand, and that was all the warning she had before the world tilted.
The air around them shifted. Wind surged through the narrow alley like a gale. Auryn cried out as the force ripped her hood back from her head and slammed both her and Lu’ma against the stone wall behind them.
The parcel flew from her grasp, clattering to the floor.
Pain burst across her shoulders as the impact knocked the breath from her lungs.
Pressure lanced through her chest.
When her vision cleared, the Riven was already on her, one massive hand pinning her shoulders against the stone. The serrated edge of his glaive rested against her throat. With every breath that left her, fog appeared on the shining metal.
The scent from earlier intensified. Ancient magic, far older than anything she’d seen in Krystopolis—the spiced musk of old ritual burned into the very marrow of his being.
As he leaned closer, the flecks and shadows in his eyes came into focus.
Violet.
So much like Thessia’s.
Her chest tightened, but she clung to her resolve.
“Release me,” she demanded, forcing her voice to steady.
He removed his hand from her shoulder, but she still could not move. To her left, Lu’ma shifted. The blade at Auryn’s throat pressed a fraction closer.
“Take another step,” the Riven said without looking away from Auryn, “and I will end her life before you draw breath.”
Lu’ma froze.
“Why hesitate?” Auryn challenged. “Try it, Riven.”
She summoned her Weave, calling on the costly magic, ready to do whatever was necessary to escape. She could have Veilstepped, but she needed more room. She lifted her foot, ready to try, ready to pay a higher cost if needed.
Her thoughts splintered when he raised his hand and tugged on one of the pins in her hair. Silver strands tumbled free across her shoulders. And with them, Thessia’s golden braid.
The violet ribbon brushed against her cheek.
His hand moved toward it.
Fury filled her.
“Don’t touch it,” Auryn snarled. “Don’t youdare!”
“It is stolen,” he snapped. “Taking feathers or beads from the dead is one thing. Butthis—”
“It was a gift!”
His fingers brushed the frayed end of it. She twisted violently against his grip, the movement driving her collarbone straight into the edge of his glaive.
