I can only kneel.

He studies me before cutting his attention to Bastien. “Do you need a minute?”

My brother rolls his shoulders. “I’m good.”

Alexios radiates the kind of stillness that has heralded the deaths of entire armies. “Where is she, Wolf?”

I bare my teeth. “Dunno. Had some real important appointments to keep. You know how it is.”

“You’re dangerously close to outliving your usefulness.”

I spit a glob of blood at his feet. “Must’ve struck a nerve with you, huh? This one mortal girl. She really got under your skin. Can’t blame you, honestly.” I laugh. “She’s under mine, too.”

In a blink, he lunges. Seizes a fistful of my hair and wrenches my head back, forcing me to meet the glow of his eyes. And there he is—the despot, the subjugator. The god-king who has razed empires and salted the earth where they once stood.

“This girl,” Alexios says, soft and dangerous, “nearly killed me when her followers abandoned their tithes. It tore holes in my Shroud that the fleshtrade has used to hunt our people like animals. Or did you forget that detail while you were falling dick-first into betrayal?”

His grip squeezes harder. The leash tightens another merciless notch. “So, for my education, tell me why you think I should spare your precious Bryony instead of snapping her neck. You’ve defied the Accords. Slaughtered my Claimed. Idris is dead by her hand, and I’m down to my last Anchor. It’s only a matter of time before the Shroud fails entirely. So convince me, Wolf. Give me a single reason to let your Devaliant walk.”

“Because I made her my Chosen.”

Silence.

His eyes snap to Bastien, demanding confirmation. My brother dips his chin.

Alexios’ expression flattens. “You never did know when to stop pushing. It may go against our oldest laws for me to kill her outright, but there are so many ways to make a thing hurt without it dying.” He jerks his chin at the trees where Bryony disappeared. “Blade, fetch her for me.”

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44

BRYONY

MY BOOTS SLAP against the ground as I race through the woods.

Evander’s voice echoes through my head. Keep moving, vicious girl. Run until I tell you to stop.

Is it Alexios? I ask.

My brother. Now move your ass, Devaliant.

A tremor racks through me, but I shove it down and lock it away. I can’t fall apart now.

So I don’t slow, even though my muscles are burning. I grit my teeth and push myself harder, pumping my arms at my sides. Amara trained me to flee just in case.

Stop. Evander’s command is sharp. Make yourself small and hide. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe.

I stagger to a halt, chest heaving as I scan for cover. There—a tangle of massive roots in a hollow beneath a tree. I wedge into the narrow space, trying to control my breathing and draw air into my burning lungs as shallowly as possible. I listen hard to the distant shrieks of birds and the susurrus of wind through the branches. Every tiny noise seems magnified.

A twig snaps. Dead foliage crunches under a heavy boot.

And then a figure materializes out of the mist.

The Blade’s face resembles Evander’s—the severe slant of those dark brows, the sharp cut of his cheekbones, and a strong, square jaw. But that’s where the similarities end. Because where Evander is all tawny skin and gilt feathers, his brother is monochrome. Stark. His hair is white, skin pale. He’s like a sculpture given breath.

But it’s his eyes that make my stomach drop. They’re black—true black, like the unending abyss between stars, fathomless and cold. Primordial instinct gibbers at me to run run run as that stare sweeps the clearing.

The Blade steps forward, and the shadows bend and cling to him like a living shroud. His power saturates the air, seeking.

Looking for me.

Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t exist.

I reach for Evander—only to slam into an impenetrable psychic wall. Panic claws at my chest as I press my incorporeal fingers against it anyway.

And white-hot agony spears through my skull.

The wall is there for a reason. His tone is gentle but brooks no argument as he nudges me back. Alexios’ collar is cinching tight. Leave it be and stay hidden. Please.

That please destroys something in me. In that brief connection, I felt what Alexios is doing to him. That magical collar is crushing his throat, choking him, hurting him.

Because of me.

Fuck hiding. Fuck playing it safe.

I won’t leave him to handle this alone while I cower in the dirt like a frightened child.

Taking a deep breath, I step out to face the Blade. “Take me to Alexios.”

He turns his head slowly. The weight of that obsidian stare flays me open, and it takes every scrap of control not to look away. His eyes catch on the mark shimmering at my wrist.

Nothing. Not a word. Just those eyes boring into me. Then—

A ripple in the air, a sudden crushing pressure.

And he’s in my head.

I scream as his power tears through me. There’s no gentleness, no care as he rips into my mind, peeling me open, layer after layer. My thoughts are all exposed for his relentless perusal.

He finds where I keep my memories of Evander—every touch, every kiss, every moment we’ve shared in the dark.

Evander’s hands on my body.

His mouth on my skin.

His voice in my ear.

All my stupid, desperate, hopeless wanting.

My knees hit the dirt hard, but I barely feel it. Fracture lines spiderweb through my psyche. My temples pound with the overwhelming press of his magic spilling over me in wave after wave, threatening to tear me apart.

“Stop,” I gasp out. “Please!”

And miraculously, he withdraws, leaving me trembling. I slump forward, trying to remember how my lungs work. How I’m put together.

Why are you in pain? Evander’s voice. So focused on me, even as an Eternal’s collar strangles him.

The wall is there for a reason, remember?

The Blade looms over me with a gloved hand outstretched. There’s no warmth in that beautiful face, just the unspoken threat of what happens if I refuse.

Bile coats the back of my tongue, but I grasp his hand and let him wrench me upright. He sweeps me against his chest like I weigh nothing. The shadows around us writhe and stretch, forming those wings that aren’t really wings at all—just darkness given form—and then we’re airborne.

We touch down in the clearing minutes later.

A harsh gasp leaves me when I see Evander. He’s on his knees in the center of the glade, drenched in so much blood I can barely see skin. His flesh is knitting the remnants of serious injuries back together.

His head whips up. Bryony.

There’s so much agony packed into my name, but I lock my walls down until all I can hear is the roar of my pulse as I force myself to look at him.

Alexios. God of Storms.

Back in Vartena, I had grown up under the looming presence of his stone effigy every time I offered my blood on its altar. But that icon is a child’s fumbling rendition compared to the god standing before me.

He’s like a force of gravity threatening to subsume everything in its path. His wings are resplendent in black and red, and his eyes are an intense, glowing scarlet. A metal clasp holds his shoulder-length black hair back from his face. I look for some flaw in those elegant features, in that warrior’s physique that’s every bit as strong as Evander’s, but I find nothing. He’s beautiful. Breathtaking, even.