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Until he spoke.

“She’ll be alright. Let’s make this quick so she can rest somewhere.”

The words landed like a knife in her chest.

Peri shoved herself away from them, the world spinning. She shook her head, trying to clear it, to breathe, to think.

“Wait.” She swallowed hard. “What are you doing?”

Her father knelt beside her, his expression unreadable. “Listen, Perine.”

The way he said her full name sent ice curling through her veins.

“The stars have fallen. The floods are here. The behemoth has been officially sighted. Any day now, they’ll want to sacrifice you.” His voice softened, as if that could possibly make his words less terrifying. “But they can’t sacrifice a claimed demoness. Your grandfather said it’s the only way to save you.”

No.

No, that didn’t feel right. What did it even mean to be claimed?

But her mind—thick and sluggish—couldn’t grasp anything at the moment.

She stumbled, hand bracing against the cold stone wall. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes fluttering shut—

—darkness.

—time twisted, disjointed and broken.

Something sliced her palm.

Peri forced her head to roll toward her hand, trying to see through the fog in her mind.

Amethyst skin.

Gold blood.

Dripping.

Her stomach lurched. She tried to pull her arm back, but Valus’s grip crushed down on her, holding her still.

He pressed his own golden palm against hers, he muttered something she couldn’t understand.

Her face was wet.

Crying. She was crying.

A trembling breath rattled through her, fear creeping up her spine like a spider preparing to sink its fangs into her.

No, this was—this had to be—

A dream. A hallucination. The potions playing tricks on her.

Then Moloch began to read the rites.

“Perine Wilder, I give you to be cared for by your betrothed, Valus Gabor.” Moloch laid spindly fingers over where her hand was clutched in Valus’s. “And he shall rule over you.”

The words slammed into her.

Pain throbbed in her palm, sharp and real.