“And you fucking lied to me—I was out for three days!”

  Sera scoffed. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me a liar,” she said. “You’ve lied to me since we left the Citadel.”

  “The difference is that I do it to keep you safe.”

  Another knock on the door had her stomach rolling. She hoped it wasn’t Vasso. Swinging it wide, she exhaled to find Ophelia there.

  “Would you both please meet me in the parlor for dinner? Lord Vasso will not be joining us this evening, and I cannot stand the swinging chandeliers. He’s the only one who can make them stop.” Ophelia huffed and led them through the manor.

  Underneath her frustration at Alistair was a wave a disappointment. She was sure Vasso would’ve wanted to see her transformation. Shadow, she wanted him to see how beautiful she looked. A gifted set of creams and a gown that was made with her measurements in mind, and the lord wouldn’t see his altruism?

  Alistair stomped behind her like a cave troll as they made their way to a cozier area of the caverns. An intimate table, set for three, and the first course was already plated. Alistair held out her chair, and Sera huffed before taking a seat.

  “Now, let’s discuss logistics, shall we?” Ophelia said. Al raised his brows at her. “Don’t be so naive. I know you’re biding your time with this one.” Ophelia held her wine and pointed her finger at Sera. “Before you take me to my doom, of course.”

  Al choked.

  “Your doom?” Sera asked. “The Council doesn’t plan to kill her, do they?”

  Alistair didn’t meet her eye, just sucked down water.

  “They most certainly do,” Ophelia responded. “Isn’t that right, Alistair?”

  “I’m not privy to the Council’s plans. My instructions are to deliver you to them.” He took a bite of his greens.

  “Al, we can’t bring her back if they mean to kill her.”

  “He will, and he must,” Ophelia said as if they were discussing a bout of bad weather and not her death. “I have made my peace with Eraphon and fate.”

  “We aren’t bringing her back.” Steel slid into Sera’s voice as she glared at Alistair. She wouldn’t be an accessory to her murder. A slaying for what? Knowledge? Or just because she was a better reader than Chair Renata?

  “I don’t have a choice, Sera. My orders are to deliver her.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to.”

  Ophelia filled her wineglass again and sipped. Her face was smug as she stared at Al. “Are you going to tell her the rest?”

  Sera glared at him. His jaw was tight, staring daggers at Ophelia.

  “What else is there?”

  “Go on, tell her,” Ophelia said.

  Alistair slammed his fist on the table. The clattering of glassware and utensils made Sera jump. She was surprised the table hadn’t split.

  Ophelia kept her feline smile planted on her face. “You’re not going to tell her, are you? Coward.”

  “Tell me,” Sera gritted out. Her magic drew back like a bow, ready to send an arrow flying should she demand it.

  “There’s nothing to discuss.” Alistair stood, avoiding her gaze.

  “Sit,” Sera said. She was tempted to tie him to the chair with her magic if he didn’t answer, which would put her into a world of trouble, but she was so damn sick of his lies. Alistair turned to leave.

  “She said sit!” Ophelia threw a blast of air at the warlock, pushing him back into his chair.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snarled.

  “The Council told you to leave her. Take the map of the doorways and discard her in the forest.”

  Sera gasped.

  Pure, unabashed rage lined Al’s features.

  “Tell me it isn’t true,” Sera said.

  “I was going to sneak you in,” he said.

  Ophelia laughed. “You think Blackwell wouldn’t have felt her through the wards?”

  “But why?” Sera asked.

  “They didn’t give me a reason. It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving you. I won’t lose you too.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He had planned to leave her discarded in the forest? What did that mean? Did the Council want her dead?

  “I will come with you willingly, but do not be fooled by their words; they will kill me. And I am prepared to die, but you must not pursue this.” Ophelia pointed to the two of them. “You leave her here, with Lord Vasso.”

  The chair behind her thudded on the carpet as Sera launched to her feet. “Don’t I get any say?”

  “Sera,” Al called to her.

  She was already out of the room. Any guilt that had crawled through her earlier was now gone. He was never going to bring her back, and maybe she was wrong for not planning to return anyway, but he hadn’t known that. It was the fact that they were making decisions for her.

  Her feet carried her through the manor as she stewed.

  With each step, a tug in her chest pulled tighter and tighter until she reached the door to Vasso’s study. She burst through to find Vasso sitting at his desk.

  “Seraphina?”

  “That motherfucker!” she screamed. Vasso’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Don’t you laugh.”

  A deep chuckle escaped before he reeled himself in.

  She couldn’t control her swirling emotions. Al had been ordered to discard her in the woods. They were never going to give her a team of Legion soldiers. They were never going to let her try and save Nora.

  A sickening nausea curled within her, then a blast of mist enveloped the room.

  “Subdina.” Vasso’s low voice soothed her. A brush of his fingers against her cheek had her leaning into his palm. The only thing she could see within her own darkness was bright red irises glowing at her.

  He was so close, and she had shrouded the room in darkness.

  “You seem awfully angry for a witch dressed so beautifully.”

  She stiffened, pulling away from his hand. “I didn’t realize they needed to be mutually exclusive.”

  “Are you done hiding in the dark?”

  “If I could pull it back, I would have already.” She waved her hand in front of her face to try and dissipate the inky fog.

  Vasso snapped his fingers, and his magic flowed. Goose bumps coated her in a moment of seductive frisson. Her breath hitched in her throat with an involuntary moan.

  “Don’t go making noises like that,” he said, his eyes darkening, “I’ll never let you leave.”

  She wanted to bathe in his words, linger, and ask him if he meant it. Whether that was something they could try, just once, to see if maybe their future together did make sense. But then she remembered what Alistair had been ordered.

  “It seems I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  Vasso quirked his dark brow at her.

  “Why weren’t you at dinner?” Sera plopped into the chair opposite his desk. The tulle of her skirt fluffed around her in a ridiculous display.

  “Something came up.” He rubbed his brow, then flashed her a rakish grin. “Did you miss me?”

  “I figured you would have liked to see your handiwork.” She ran her hand down the length of her body, showcasing her curls and dress.

  Vasso steepled his fingers and stared. “You are exquisite, if you’re fishing for a compliment. Smell quite delicious as well. I was hoping that would be the one you chose.” He cleared his throat. “But providing you with basic necessities and decent clothing doesn’t entitle me to admire you as an object, Seraphina. I wanted you to feel comfortable, whether I’m in the room or not.”

  Her jaw went slack.

  Vasso smirked at her. Sent a tendril of mist down her arm. “Unless you want me to treat you like an object. Do you want to be my plaything, Subdina?”

  His velvet voice caressed her like an exposed nerve.

  Shuddering.

  Electric.

  An intensity teetering somewhere between pain and pleasure.

  Their kiss had awoken something within her. As much as she wanted to take him up on his words that very moment—on that desk, in that chair, on the damn floor—she needed to figure out the situation with Nora. “I’m afraid what I want doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. Alistair is making it increasingly difficult—”

  Vasso’s teasing smile fell. “As much as I enjoy your company, did you need me for something?”

  “Yes. Will you take me to the underworld or not?”

  Vasso closed the ledger he was working in, sighed, and sat back.

  “You didn’t think I would forget, would you? They’re leaving tomorrow, and I need to know. I’m going, with or without you.” She tapped her fingers on the velvet chair arm.

  “That would be unwise, to attempt to breach Gehenna alone.”

  “Well, I’m out of options,” she said.

  The candlelight from the sconces along the far wall scattered shadows along the shelves behind him. In those shadows, she swore she could make out wings.

  “Your offer is still whatever I want?” he asked.

  She gulped. This was dangerous, stupid, positively idiotic. “Yes.”

  “I’ll bring you to the underworld only if you follow your destiny.”

  Sera scrunched her brows. “I don’t understand.”

  He held out his hand. “We all have been destined by fate. Ophelia has her assumptions, I have mine. Regardless of what they are, I want you to follow them.”

  “If it’s destiny or fate or whatever, wouldn’t I do it anyway?” she asked.

  “Ophelia insists there is free will. I suppose if you were face-to-face with your destiny and decided to walk the other way, you could.”

  “And if you break yours? If you don’t take me into the underworld, then what?”

  “Then I suppose that you’d be free to do what you want and I’d be in your debt.”

  There was a loophole, something she was missing. There had to be. She thought of Nora on that bed, pale and disassociated. She thought of her mother with her head planted on the Council chambers floor in complete submission, begging them to let her go. Then Dominick in front of Colton, on a burning pyre.

  “Okay.” She stood and grabbed his hand.

  “Oh, fucking tits.” He hissed and jerked. On the inside of his forearm was a brand, already raised and red. Sera grabbed his wrist to inspect the mark. An insignia of a raven was seared into his pale skin. “Shit, that hurts.” He blew on the brand.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “A bargain brand? Yes. Though I’ve never been stupid enough to be on the receiving side.” Vasso ran his hand through his hair and stood, crossed the room, and opened the door for her.

  Before she exited his study, she asked, “You’ll be ready tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

  Chapter fifty-three

  Dominick

  Dominick’s eyes throbbed. He strained to keep them open as he pulled on the heavy door to Dobro level in Darine Hall. Following the sign to the keepers’ wing, he almost missed the door that used to have Sera’s name printed across it. Now only scrape marks were left.

  He knocked before letting himself in and heard a shuffling in the back of the stacks and a muttering of curses. Following the sound, he spotted Galene teetering on the top rung of a stool, reaching for what looked like a cup of some kind, and cleared his throat.

  “Goddess Shadow!” Galene squealed. Dom rushed to catch the stout witch, barely getting under her before she hit the ground. She threw her magic at the dirty cup instead of saving herself. “What are you doing in my office?”

  Galene shuffled toward the levitating dish, fuming. Her gloved hands lifted it from the bottom and placed it on a cart.

  “I, um, I’m Dominick.” He got to his feet.

  “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

  “Sera told me to find you.”

  She quirked her silver brow at him, then crossed the space and locked the door. “Teesina,” she said. “What do you know of Seraphina Wildrick?”

  He couldn’t stop his snicker. “I know just about everything there is to know about her.”

  Galene pursed her lips, and Dom saw exactly what Sera had always described—she did look like a gnome.

  “They scraped her name off yesterday.” Galene wrung her hands over and over. “I don’t think they plan on her coming back.”

  He suddenly became overheated. “Who’s they?”

  “The master keeper. I thought her mother might prevent it, since she’s a chair now, but these aliato have been too close.”

  “That’s what Sera told me to ask you about.” Dominick pulled the journal from his robes and handed it to the witch.

  Galene let out a breath. “Thank Shadow,” she said. “I would recognize that irksome looped handwriting anywhere. I was sure they killed her.”

  “Not quite.” He took a seat behind one of the worktables and rubbed his eyes. As much as he appreciated the promotion, lifelines was constant staring. “The Council sent her on a quest before they would help her retrieve Nora. The aliato… Sera told me to find out more from you.”

  “Aliato, the winged soldiers of their maker. Angels, in the old language.” She stepped closer. “The world needs balance. Light and dark. Angel and demon. Where we went wrong was when our founders defected.” Galene ripped off her gloves, pushed back a scraggly lock of hair from her forehead. “Minimal texts are left that share our turbulent history with the aliato. Many died for the knowledge to be secured.”

  Galene slipped on a new set of pristine gloves and motioned for him to follow her back into the stacks.

  Books, artifacts. He swore he saw a pair of boots inside a glass case. All of it was old and obsolete. He sneezed, and Galene glared over her shoulder. The old witch unlocked a case that lined the back wall with a small golden key. She pulled out a heavy tome and carefully turned the pages until she found what she was looking for.

  Placing the tome on a stand, she pointed. “Look for yourself.”

  The book was old. Older than anything he’d ever seen before. In the center of the page was an image he couldn’t quite make out: a red circle with a simple black figure emerging. On the page beside it was the outline of a woman. “I don’t understand.”

  “It is the birth of Shadow.”

  “The goddess was birthed?”

  “She wasn’t a goddess at that time. She was a champion.” Galene flipped the page to a picture of the world. “The Dark Ones were born for the sake of Eraphon. We are the dark. The protectors.”

  Dom’s brows reached his hairline. He wasn’t one for religion; he prayed to the goddess only when he needed a bit of luck. Come to think of it, that was all most of the coven members did. An old temple existed somewhere within the fortress, but he didn’t know anyone who went there.

  “What happens,” Galene continued, “when a portion of that race aligns itself with the light?” Galene closed the book and put it back on the shelf, locking the cabinet and hiding the key around her neck. “Nothing good can come of it.”

  She seemed paranoid, unhinged even. But the story was that witches and warlocks had been made from demons. To protect the planet from what?

  “Thank you,” he said to the keeper.

  “Tell Seraphina not to come here.” Galene hesitated. “She isn’t safe.” With a wave of her hand, the sound barrier lifted.

  Dom could only nod, unlock the door, and head to his flat.

  Chapter fifty-four

  Seraphina

  Sera sat on the central platform of the mirroring pool, waiting for Ophelia, the water tepid on her toes. She watched as the colored threads avoided her skin. She wanted to ask the oracle a few more questions, but when she’d gone back to the parlor, it was empty.

  Snik whined at the beginning of the walkway, petrified of the pool as she kicked at the water.

  Instead of her face on the pool’s surface, it was Nora’s that flashed. Nora screaming for their mother as Supay dragged her away.

  She was letting her sister down. All this was taking too long.

  Alistair’s lumbering frame appeared behind her in the water’s reflection. Always watching. Ever the protector.

  “You knew from the beginning, didn’t you?” Sera kicked at the water, sending ripples across the surface.

  “I wasn’t certain they’d kill Ophelia, no.”

  “So much death,” she whispered. Al removed his boots and dipped his feet beside her. Colton, Ophelia, how many hundreds more would be erased? How many piles of dust would line battlefields?

  “It’s war.”

  Sera hated it. She knew if the safety of the coven was of the greatest concern, then it would have to be done. She’d kill anyone who’d hurt the people she loved. But this seemed senseless.

  Pulling her dripping toes from the water, she hugged her knees. The tulle from her gown puddled around her.

  “I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?”

  She didn’t know what to say. His blue gaze bore into her.

  It had been… They could have been… She didn’t know anymore. Only that it was never going to happen. Not if she was half demon.

  “I haven’t been truthful,” he continued quietly.

  Sera sighed. Trust was a fickle thing for her, one she didn’t give lightly. “No, you haven’t. But I could have been better too.”

  “Forgive me?” Hunched over his knees, he didn’t look at her. No hint of dimples, just sadness. This was Alistair, the warlock she had grown up with. But what of the captain of the Legion? What was he thinking about? Or the Mesar? All of them had separate agendas.

  He was the most loyal person she knew, and even though she wished that he could see he was a pawn for the Council, she didn’t think he’d change.

  “I need you to take care of Dominick for me.” She hoped Dom would understand. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving him behind, possibly never seeing him again. But, as Al had so eloquently put it, this was war.