But the horde stood there. Waiting.

  “Vasso,” she whispered between heaving breaths. “There are too many.”

  He glanced at her. His eyes blazed red with a promise of death.

  “Here, take my magic.” She held out her hand. Tendrils of smoke swept up her back, over her arms, before grazing her cheek. He was soothing her. She leaned into his magic and released a breath. She was safe. “Vasso…”

  Vasso unleashed his power.

  The horde disintegrated.

  Ash fell in mounds. Not one body was left, only ashes swept on a high wind, which carried the remains into the forest, dusting the trees in an unnatural soot.

  “The flames in the forest?”

  “It’s fine.” Vasso turned to her, taking her hands in his. He turned each one over and kissed the center of them. Sera shivered at the sensation.

  “You saved me.”

  “No,” he said, releasing her hands. “He saved you.” The elken snorted behind her.

  Her raven, back to its regular size, was perched on its highest antler.

  “Thank you, old friend. Seraphina, meet the elken king. His kind have lived many years in these woods. I’ve made sure to protect them when he cannot.” Vasso reached over her shoulder and scratched the beast’s chin. “He’s thankful you offered to save him.”

  Despite Vasso’s kind words, he held his mouth in a hard line.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” The elken’s white fur was silken under her fingers. She was careful not to touch the gashes in his chest. “Will he be okay? The parasite—”

  “As majestic as they are, they aren’t magical. There is nothing for it to feed off.” Vasso stepped closer, hovering his hand over the gashes. Black mist circled the wound, and when he pulled back, the wound had closed.

  The king tousled his head and perked his ears. With a grunt, he cantered into the forest. Her familiar croaked and settled in the grass, pecking at the ground.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “I felt you.” He rubbed his chest. “I felt your panic—your terror.”

  “Is that one of your powers?” Her words were breathy, from the loss of adrenaline or how he looked at her. “Is that part of being a demon lord? You can feel terror?” She had no idea why she asked. Only that she needed the fill the silence between them.

  They’d barely said two words to each other since returning to the manor. After the doorway, after those images.

  Vasso’s intense stare pierced her, “No, Seraphina. It’s not a demon thing.”

  She swallowed at the sound of her name on his lips.

  “It’s not a lord thing.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “It’s a you thing.”

  Her magic coaxed her forward, but she stood her ground. “So, this isn’t normal?” she asked, staring at those full lips.

  “Not for me,” he said.

  Sera tilted her head to look at him. Her gaze roamed over his perfect face.

  He did the same to her.

  She was bare to him. He’d had that power over her since the moment she saw him astride Ponic in Crowpass. “Vasso—”

  “You need more training if you’re going to be out here alone.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  His shoulders bunched. Ash floated around them in flurries. “What do you want to hear?” he snarled. “That I would beg, here in the ashes of my wards, on my hands and fucking knees, for your forgiveness, because I didn’t get to you sooner? That I should have ripped each one of them to pieces before burning them for that scratch on your cheek? That I— No.”

  He turned his back on her.

  “So your solution is to—what? Rage and be pissy? You’ve already done that!” She wanted to throttle him. Kill him. She had no idea why, but her chest was burning with rage and… fear. “Why won’t you talk to me? You’re the only one who understands this, and yet… and yet you leave me with it, to figure it out.” She was spinning.

  Those future looks from him flashed in her mind. His smile, the way he bit his lip, the stern look lined with a smirk, but then—pallor, death.

  “Why have you been so quiet?” she asked.

  He marched toward her, his eyes darkening, his lips parting. Vasso tilted her chin higher. She shivered under his touch as his gaze dropped to her lips.

  “So I wouldn’t do this.”

  For a moment, time stood still.

  There was no wind.

  No sounds of insects or birds singing.

  There was nothing but his lips on hers. His mouth—warm and firm. She whimpered when his tongue asked for permission to taste her.

  She let him.

  It wasn’t just a kiss. He was all-consuming. Inside and out. Their magic swirled in a chaotic dance around them. Heat pooled between her thighs, and Vasso’s hand traced down her throat, then her side, gripping her waist.

  Each inhale had her breasts brushing against his chest. Vasso wrapped her braid around his wrist, pulling in an unhurried tug, deepening his access, his tongue taunting hers.

  She breathed him in, sandalwood wrapping her senses. That smell had been burned into her since that day in the market. His taste was divine, but the way he kissed her, slow, deliberate, was a promise of what else he could do.

  And she wanted it. She wanted it all.

  Sera pushed her hips into his, seeking sweet, sweet friction. He groaned. The rumble vibrated through her, setting her alight all over again. This was everything. No other kiss had been this compelling, obsessive, or intoxicating. It filled her up, wrung her out. That missing piece clicked into place.

  It was him.

  There was no other way to describe it.

  He moved from her mouth, kissing her jaw, running his tongue across the soft skin below her ear.

  “Shadow,” she whispered.

  He froze, took one step, then two. “I’m sorry…” A pained look crossed his face before he turned toward the manor.

  “Vasso?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He stilled, fists balled tight, but didn’t face her. “If I don’t walk away right now, I’d make a decision I’d regret.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Magic, dark and pulsing, raged through her veins. How dare he? That kiss was everything. That link snapping tight between them. And Shadow help her, she knew it would never be the same.

  There was only his lips.

  His scent filling her lungs.

  His tongue and teeth and hands pulling her braid.

  Vasso was at the manor entrance. She started walking. He watched her with a stern mask in place, and when she got to the center of the training circle, he entered the manor, leaving her alone with nothing but the wind and ash speckling her cheeks.

  Chapter forty-eight

  Dominick

  Neither of them had slept much. The first thing Dominick wanted to do when he woke was go to Sera’s boarding room and check that the journal was still under her mattress. So that was where he and Theo were headed.

  The events in the Menage the evening before had the entire Citadel in pandemonium.

  Coven members from every class had rushed to their homes and bolted their doors. The aliato, however, had practically invaded the fortress city. The winged soldiers were on every street, including those of Daedeth Quarter. Patrolling. Surveying.

  Dominick entered the boardinghouse, took Sera’s spare key from his pocket, and opened her bedroom door. It was…

  Fine. Nothing was out of place, or at least there was no indication that the room had been searched. He crossed the floor, lifted the mattress, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

  “It’s still here?” Theo asked.

  “It is.” Dominick picked up the small notebook. “I think we should burn it.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? You saw that warlock yesterday. He was pissing blood… Theo, they had cut out his tongue!”

  Theo held his hands wide. “Teesina,” he cast, placing their sound barrier in place. “The Council of Elders is obviously hiding things. Which means the records the master oracle is keeping are false.”

  “And if we get caught with these, what would that make us?” Dominick asked, straightening his robes before sitting on Sera’s bed.

  Theo didn’t answer.

  “Enemies… and what does the Council do to their enemies? Kill them.”

  “I won’t be complicit in lies. Dominick, they’re changing our very history.” Theo paced back and forth across the wide wooden floorboards. “The outbreak of this war is already killing our people by the hundreds.”

  “And what if they come for you?” Dominick said. He dropped his head in his hands. “I don’t think I would ever forgive myself if they did to you what they did to that warlock.”

  Theo stopped his pacing. His shoulders sagged, and he sat on the bed beside Dominick. “Then we work to protect ourselves.”

  “How?”

  “We build barriers in our minds, we come up with a code, we learn more complex illusion spells.” Theo crossed his legs on the bed. “We’ll start with the barrier.”

  Dominick stared at Theo, his earnest ocean eyes.

  He’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. It was the closest he’d gotten to an admission of how he felt, but it was true. He’d be ruined if Theo was taken, especially over something stupid like miscalculated deaths.

  But he also didn’t want to extinguish that passion in his lover’s eye. So Dominick turned to face Theo in a dirty boardinghouse in the middle of Jedan Quarter, and practiced.

  Chapter forty-nine

  Seraphina

  Sera awoke to a knocking at her door. She opened it, and Alistair stood, his face grim, dark circles around his eyes.

  “Al,” she said and ushered him in. “Come in, how are you feeling?”

  He took stiff steps to the bed and sat upon it. “I feel like I was placed in a bag and trampled by a company of horses,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “How long was I out?”

  Lying was bad, but she’d decided after the first day he hadn’t woken that it would be better to fib than be barraged with questions about what had happened in those days. “Just a day.”

  “I think I pissed for two minutes straight when I got up.”

  “Bad wine. Vasso and Ophelia were in the same condition,” she said.

  “What’s with the bird?” He pointed to Raven, perched on the corner of her bedpost.

  “Funny story that. Apparently, I have a familiar.” The bird made a knocking noise and flapped its wings.

  Alistair rubbed his forehead. “I don’t even want to unpack that right now.”

  “Let me get you some water.” Sera walked to the basin and poured him a glass.

  He grunted, then took a deep breath. “I know I didn’t tell you about the coven being at war.”

  “Or the fact that you’re the Mesar.”

  He nodded. “And that. But, Sera, there have been casualties.”

  Her heart slowed. She lowered herself onto the small desk chair and gripped her knees. Al let out a shuddering breath, his eyes growing damp.

  “Who?”

  “Colton,” he whispered.

  The only thing she could hear was her own beating heart in her ears before she ran to the bathing room and emptied the contents of her stomach. Dominick was alone in the Citadel, and Colton was dead—Colton, good and strong Colton.

  When she emerged, Alistair was unraveling. Face in hands, his shoulders shaking under a great weight as he wept for his best friend. Sera pulled his gloved hands away and let his cheek fall to her shoulder.

  Poor Alistair.

  Poor Dominick and their parents. It was too soon. How had this happened?

  Careful not to let her bare skin touch his, she wrapped her arms around his chest and let him grieve.

  “Shh, shh, shh, it’s all right.” She rubbed his back in long strokes, doing her best to keep her tears at bay. Al was strong, unbothered, a professional warrior, but Colton was his best friend. “When?” she choked out.

  After a few moments, when his breathing became steady, he spoke. “Not long after we left,” he said, letting her go. He wiped his face in the crook of his elbow.

  “I am so sorry. I loved Colton, too, but wasn’t nearly as close as you two were. You held on to this the whole time?”

  He nodded. “The Council stated there were minimal casualties. But apparently, they had instructed the head generals to move the battalion a few days early. They were in position, ready to strike. I don’t know all the details, only that it was supposed to be a surprise attack. But the demons were ready.”

  Sera’s twenty-three years of life had been relatively peaceful. They’d been in a ceasefire for most of it. She, Dominick, and Nora were all too young to have been affected by the early skirmishes. But Colton and Al had lived through them.

  “Thank you for telling me.” Her voice trembled. “Can you take a message to Dom for me? Bring me home so I can see him?” Dominick must have been devastated.

  “I can’t go back without Ophelia,” he said, sniffling. “Renata was adamant she didn’t want me within the walls without the oracle in tow.”

  Sera nodded.

  Their time was dwindling, and there was still so much she didn’t know. “Lie down.” She motioned for him to move, and he did. Curling her hands into her chest, she faced him, her hair spread wide on the pillowcase. “Tell me of a memory. One of you and Colton.”

  Al pressed his thumb and pointer finger hard across his eyes. “I, uh, I don’t think I can right now, Minnow.”

  “Then I’ll tell you one…”

  She began. Sometimes her stories involved Al, sometimes they didn’t, and when she couldn’t think of anything else, she lay there in the silence of their grief until Alistair’s breathing grew heavy. Silently, she cried for Dominick. Her longing to be back in the Citadel’s walls had never been so strong. She wanted to tell him it would be all right, to hold his hand at the burning.

  But if she didn’t get to Nora soon, she’d be doing the same thing.

  Chapter fifty

  Seraphina

  Sera snuck from her room and walked the halls to find Vasso. She needed a plan. One that didn’t rely on the Council of Elders. She’d done what they asked, found a doorway, and written a note, doing her best to render phonetically the sounds of the words Vasso had used to open it.

  The task was complete. The only problem was that the Council could choose to go back on their word, and, well, a demon lord could not.

  Ophelia was pulling threads in rapid succession from the center of the pool. It was late… or early. Sera had fallen asleep beside Alistair and had no idea what time it was.

  “Do you know where Vasso is?” she asked, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  “In the training field, I believe,” Ophelia said over her shoulder, but when she caught sight of Sera, she paused. “Seraphina, are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.” And wasn’t that the biggest lie she could tell herself? Nothing was fine.

  Waving Ophelia off, she trudged to the entryway that led outside. The stone door was open, and the dawn light trickled in. What she needed to figure out, preferably before she set foot in front of him, was what Vasso wanted. They were at war. She was his enemy, and he had agreed to a bargain to teach her how to wield magic. Why?

  Reasons, her magic said to her.

  Nothing of use, per usual.

  There must have been a book in the archives that could explain the two of them. She didn’t think that a witch and a warlock with the same magic would experience this. In fact, she was positive they wouldn’t. Otherwise, surely Dominick would have been exclusively with other oracles.

  An ache formed in the center of her chest, and she rubbed at it absently, scanning the training circle for Vasso. His lean figure was nowhere to be seen, but a butterfly made of shadow, leashed by a wisp of black mist, landed on the tip of her nose.

  She smiled to herself and followed it into the woods.

  Ironoak Forest was waking around her. When the butterfly’s silhouette vanished into the thinning trees, she saw Vasso atop a boulder overlooking the valley. He had a book in his lap and graphite in his left hand, shoulders slumped and white hair in disarray.

  Her heart lurched when he looked at her. Moons, he was stunning. Unnaturally so—otherworldly, even, if she had to guess.

  “Am I interrupting you?” He seemed so serene, sketching on his pad, she felt a little guilty.

  “No.”

  The boulder’s rough surface ripped at her palms when she climbed up beside him. There was a sheer drop off the ledge below, and she realized that she and Alistair had almost died at the bottom of this slab of granite. But up here, with the sun rising over the Lanac mountain range, where the clouds burned with orange, rose, and lavender dawn, she wished her heart didn’t feel so heavy. The beauty of the sunrise was mocking her grief as she thought of Colton and Dominick.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Who?” Sera asked.

  “Plaranina.” Vasso pointed to the highest peak with his stained fingers. “Even so close to solstice, she is still capped with ice and snow.”

  “I didn’t realize she had a name. We just referred to it as the Lanac Mountains.”

  “You’ve been above ground for too long,” he said and rubbed at his chest. “You’ve been crying.” He scanned her face, then her body with a pinch of panic she’d never witnessed from him. He was usually so cool and unconcerned. “Would you like me to maim him for you?”

  Sera huffed a laugh. “No, he didn’t do anything. Well, he did, but it wasn’t his fault.” She sighed, thinking of how hard Alistair had cried when she held him. “I know that we’re at war now. I know our realms are fighting each other for power.”

  “Supay seems to be hungry for it.”

  “Is he the one who took Nora?” she asked.

  “Yes. He’s unstable, to say the least. Making desperate decisions that don’t benefit the realm.” He ran his hand through his hair. He was wearing his signature black outfit with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone.