My mother’s warning rang loud and clear in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t hide my magic anymore. Bracing myself, I prepared to utter the truth to four people I didn’t know and certainly didn’t trust. Fear constricting my chest, I managed to murmur, “My magic allows me to appear as another person.” I dropped my head, unable to bear the weight of their judgment.

The room fell so silent, I swore the sound of my erratically beating heart could be heard by all. A gentle nudge down the new mate bond had me lifting my gaze. It collided with the Kral’s immediately with how hard he stared at me.

“Devious burgundy,” Xannirin mused, running his bejeweled fingers through his beard.

“Assyria impersonated Vagach for a month before she was caught last night by her Százados,” Rokath explained. He added a few short details about the events that turned my life upside down like he was relaying the current weather. His nonchalance made me want to throw my plate at him.

Once Rokath finished reporting on what occurred, Xannirin returned his attention to me. “Demonstrate your abilities.”

When the Kral asked for something, he received it. Though, it wasn’t so much of an ask as it was a demand. That was the way of males of power. I had no choice but to oblige him and demonstrate exactly what I could do.

So, smothering the tremble in my palms, I closed my eyes and dipped into the well of shadows in my chest. Pulling the tendrils of them around me, I formed the image of the male who had abused me. When I reopened them, Rapp’s jaw had slackened, and Xannirin and the High Priestess shared a similar wide-eyed expression. Rokath gripped the arms of his chair so tightly I thought the wood might splinter, and the murder in his eyes nearly made me release my hold.

How can he feel so strongly about Vagach when he hates me?

“She looks just like him,” Xannirin murmured, his tone imbued with wonder.

“Too much. I never liked the sleazy fucker and this is only making me want to strangle him,” Rokath growled, muscles flexing beneath his tight-fitting tunic as he shifted positions. It was strange, though, wearing this form in front of him. Our bond was still there, taught and insistent, but it felt muted in a way, as though by not appearing as me, an essential piece of it was missing.

That would explain why the bond didn’t snap in place during the viewing ceremony. That, and our eyes never locked.

“Indeed.”

I dropped the magic and shot Rokath a glare.

“So you can become anyone?” Rokath asked, ignoring the heat blasting in his direction.

I lifted one shoulder, then let it drop. “I never tried to master it outside of maintaining Vagach’s appearance this past month. But yes, so long as I can create a clear picture in my mind, I can make the form.”

Xannirin smoothed his hands across his shiny hair, while Rokath drummed his large, calloused fingers across the wood. The two seemed to have a silent conversation, and I looked to the High Priestess and Rapp for any indication as to what they might be considering.

Rapp selected a flaky piece of bread and brought it to his plate, ripping bits of it off and popping them into his mouth. “Maybe her magic is why she is essential. I’ve never seen anything like it. She could study you, Rokath, and then we’d have two Demons to call the dead.”

I opened my mouth to speak, hesitating for only a moment before clarifying. “I can’t take on their magic though. Only their appearance.”

“She’s Rokath’s mate. It must have something to do with that,” the High Priestess pronounced, reaching for a pair of tongs and scooping eggs onto her plate.

Unable to resist any longer, I took her opening to grab food for myself. Slowly, Kral Xannirin and Rokath did too.

“But why would Rokath need a mate? It’s not like she would help him win any battles if she can’t use his magic too,” Rapp shot back, teeth raking over a bronze ring in his lip.

I bit down on the words that wanted to crawl up my throat and shoved a forkful of food into my mouth instead.

“Winning battles isn’t the only way to help. She could be a messenger since they can speak mind to mind, or perhaps the Fates want Rokath to have a child to support our cause,” the High Priestess mused, swirling pink juice around her glass, a faraway look on her face.

Half-chewed eggs spewed from my mouth, and I coughed, trying to dislodge the rest that were stuck in my throat.

As I tried to regain control of myself, Rokath grumbled, “At least on that front, I think Assyria and I are of the same mind.”

The High Priestess waved her hand dismissively. “The Weaver will reveal her chosen path in due time.”

Finally able to breathe again, I managed to grit out, “Can you stop speaking about me as if I’m not here? If that’s what you want to do, I’ll leave. Trust me when I say I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. I’ll just slip away into the night and no one ever has to know any of this ever happened. I’ll return to Stryi, find a farm to work on, and live a simple life like I led prior to my marriage to Vagach.”

At the mention of my dead husband again, Rokath’s jaw tightened. The Kral, however, seemed nonplussed. “You’ve left me with quite the mess to clean up, Assyria. The other noble houses will not appreciate that a member of their own was killed and his murderer will go unpunished. Then, there is the future management of his vidék. With no heirs, the seat remains open. I will have to appoint a new Kormánzó now that I know of Vagach’s demise.”

An icy chill shattered through my veins as the Kral laid his displeasure at my feet. Guilt took residence in my stomach as I realized just how many people’s lives I’d impacted from one split-second decision.

And I’d revealed Olrus’s involvement too. Now, he too would die because of me.

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, but I kept my chin defiantly high and accepted the scrutiny the Kral offered me.

“There’s a simple solution here, and I don’t know why you don’t see it,” Rapp commented, easing back in his chair and regarding us all casually.

“Do enlighten us, Rapp,” Xannirin drawled, tossing his pastry on his plate and settling in to listen.

“The Vezető we put to death last night can take all the blame,” he began. A sob wrenched its way up my throat at the mention of Izgath, but I gritted my teeth and willed it back down. “He killed Vagach, as we heard him admit, and the claim the fallen female made of killing him herself was out of desperation to save her lover.”

“Then the nobles will have their scapegoat, and Rokath will have his secret,” the Kral finished his logic. That slash in my heart that belonged to Izgath ached with how they were treating the memory of him. Yet I was powerless to do anything to stop their spin.

“Precisely,” Rapp replied, the mischievous twist to his lips piquing my curiosity about the male. He was not noble, of that I was certain, yet he slotted himself into this group with ease.

“Which brings me to my next point,” Rokath growled, attention falling over me like a heavy rainstorm. “What to do with her.”

“I am right here, you know. As I said, I’ll leave if you want to act like I’m not,” I hissed at him, fingers tightening over my fork and knife.

The High Priestess’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. I leveled a glare in her direction too. Her decrees set the status for female Demons, and because of them, Rokath had full control over my life. The blame for the death of my family, Izgath, and my abusive marriage to Vagach rested with her as much as the Kral and the Halálhívó.

She glanced away from me and toward my mate. “She can remain under my care in Varbad Temple. We will give her a new identity so no one has to know where she came from. New devotees arrive by the day, so it would be easy to slip her among them.”