Well, when he put it like that. “All right,” she said with a huff. Vasso put his finger to his chin and eyed her up and down. The glint in his eye made her a tad wary of what he intended next. Her brown boots and trousers turned black with a snap of his fingers. Her long blue tunic became a formfitting bustier, barely reaching her navel.

  “You’re not serious.”

  “It’s basically summer. I thought you might like the breeze.” He tried not to smile but failed miserably.

  “My tits are to my chin, Vasso.”

  His gaze explored her, that smirk turning sly.

  “A full shirt, please,” she said.

  Vasso sighed and snapped again. A sleeveless black cotton shirt formed around her, covering her entire midriff. He’d even included a supportive bralette beneath. “Thank you.”

  “The stables.” He pointed. She followed.

  Ponic was in the far stall. Sera clicked her tongue at the horse, who nuzzled his black velvet nose in her hand.

  “Cheating on me, boy?” Vasso said and saddled him. “Yours is over there.”

  A black mare with a white diamond on her muzzle stepped toward her. “She’s beautiful.”

  “She’s yours. Though Ponic seems quite taken with her.”

  “Mine?”

  He nodded. “I purchased her the first time you asked for my help.”

  A flush of adrenaline tingled through her; she beamed at him. “You were always going to take me, weren’t you?”

  Vasso cleared his throat, obviously avoiding her question, and focused on fitting the bit into Ponic’s mouth. A strand of hair had fallen into his eyes again. His veined forearms flexed with the passing of the crown over Ponic’s ears. He worked efficiently, as if he had done this a million times before.

  “Her name is Navine,” he said.

  “Navine, you’re stunning.”

  “A stunning horse for a stunning witch.” Vasso smirked and led Ponic from his stall.

  “Such a charmer, aren’t you?”

  Once Ponic was secured outside, Vasso set to saddle Navine and instructed Sera to mount. She climbed up and waited. “You’re next, little one.” Vasso lifted Snik to sit in front of her.

  His hand rested on her thigh. A question lay blatantly across his face, but the words that came out didn’t match. “Yes, I was always going to bring you.”

  “You don’t seem too happy about it.”

  He squeezed her leg. “I wouldn’t bring you within an inch of Gehenna if I could.” Vasso let her go and mounted Ponic.

  Sera had a sinking feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her. It was too late for that now. “Where are we headed?”

  “Port Sidnah. There’s a gateway there, a lesser-known one. Plus, I want to show you something,” Vasso said.

  Navine brought herself next to Ponic, and they began trotting into the warm wind from the southeast.

  Chapter fifty-nine

  Alistair

  The fold between space brought them to the Citadel. His boots hit the marble steps outside the Council chambers, but around them was chaos. Ophelia held herself together well enough. She looked pale, but at least she didn’t vomit.

  Projectiles flew through the air, some aflame, others not. But all crashed into buildings, streets, and coven members between the walls. Black smoke rose from every quarter.

  Rage ripped through him. These fucking demons. He needed to get to a higher vantage point and figure out where the Legion was stationed. The barracks were still standing, from what he could tell.

  He pulled a wide-eyed but silent Ophelia through the entrance of the Council chambers. Apparently, she hadn’t seen this coming either.

  Two guards positioned themselves in front of the carved doors at the end of the main hall, and by the looks they were giving him, they weren’t about to let him through.

  “I’m here on Council business,” he said, pulling Ophelia closer. He lightened his grip on her wrist a touch, not realizing he’d been holding her so tight.

  “Council of Elders isn’t to be interrupted.”

  Alistair pushed the guard hard against the wall with his free hand, pinning him by the neck with his forearm. “Let. Me. In,” he snarled.

  The guard’s eyes bulged. His hands scrambled for purchase on Al’s arm, but Al didn’t budge. His people were dying.

  The second guard clicked open the door, Alistair released the first and entered.

  Raised voices sounded ahead, but when Al burst into the space, everyone went silent. He bowed before four of the Council members and presented his task. “I bring you Ophelia Fray.” Al pulled Sera’s map from his back pocket and threw it on the table between them. “And the doorways.”

  “You fool,” Chair Renata snapped, raising her hands for an attack. “You brought her unshackled?”

  Ophelia laughed eerily. “Relax, Renata. I promised complete cooperation. And I keep my promises.”

  A guard stepped forward, holding out a pair of onyx manacles. Ophelia didn’t flinch when the stone inlays touched her wrists, but he could see where her skin was already turning red. He had to admit, she had grit.

  “Guards, take her to the holding cells,” Renata called out.

  Alistair didn’t bother to watch her leave. He dipped his chin to the Council members, awaiting his next assignment. Beyond their thrones, the expanse of the sea was serene, at odds with the chaos that was raining down around them. Vibrations from projectiles shook the glass.

  “You will wait to be dismissed,” a cool voice said. The secret panel was ajar, and Lavinia Wildrick, master mastria, Seraphina’s mother, watched him from the doorway, carrying a cup of tea in her hands. “Where is my daughter?”

  He was sure she already knew the answer and was asking only for the benefit of the other chairs. She’d already picked his mind clean.

  “I was told to leave her, so I did,” he said.

  “Hmm.” She pondered, one brow arched. Her amber eyes seemed to glow against her dark skin. Alistair glanced around at the other chairs. They just stood there, silent, breathing, and staring into space. Lavinia smiled.

  A boom in the distance shook the building. He needed to leave, now. Somewhere in the fortress, coven members were dying, and this bitch wanted to talk semantics. Lavinia’s eyes flared. He probably shouldn’t have thought that.

  “What have you done to them?” he asked. None of them had moved an inch. “They are your leaders.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. A lot has happened since you’ve been away. I’m a chair now.” She smirked and looked at the other Council members. “And how wonderful it is to have control over everyone.”

  Another shudder went through the building. “You’re going to let it burn?”

  “No, I won’t burn it down. Just rough it up enough to get the coven a little angry.” Lavinia placed her teacup in the middle of the city map that was laid out on the table. Chair Thorne and Blackwell were leaning over it, frozen. “Now,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’re going to bring my daughter back.”

  “The Council ordered her to be left before you were appointed. Why would I?”

  “I’ll take care of them, don’t worry. Do I make myself clear?”

  Hope surged through him. If she could control Blackwell, then neither he nor the guardians would care that she was within the walls again. Then those actions Ophelia showed him, the ones where Sera was being killed over and over, wouldn’t happen. He could get her, bring her home. “Clear as the wards above the city,” Alistair said.

  At once, the Council members began moving again. “Alistair, why are you still here? Did you travel and bring Seraphina back?” Chair Renata asked.

  Lavinia’s face was stone.

  “I’ll be retrieving her soon.” He bowed to his rulers and left the chambers as fast as he could without being beheaded.

  Alistair sprinted into the city. He had to find Dominick first. He’d made a promise to Sera.

  Daedeth Quarter was mostly standing. He rounded the corner, but where the Benero row house should be was an empty space. His heart pounded in his ears, and Al leaped into the rubble. Straining under large chunks of travertine, he pulled what he could from the foundation. They couldn’t be in there. They had to be at their occupations.

  Alistair heaved another heavy slab of stone out of the way, grunting under the weight. He couldn’t deal with burning another set of parents. Because that’s what Tristan and Mauve had been to him since his father had died.

  “Mr. Benero? Dominick? Are you in there?”

  A surge of power followed a muffled response deep in the rubble. Alistair traveled to the sound, barely fitting into the space where Colton’s father held a domed barrier above his wife and son. The weight of the stone row house was crushing against the slowly cracking barrier, which was barely big enough to hold the four of them.

  “Oh, thank Shadow,” Dominick said, pushing his mother forward.

  Colton’s father’s expression was fixed in a painful grimace. “Get them out!”

  Alistair grabbed Mrs. Benero first, traveling her to safety. Dominick was next, and lastly, a split second before his barrier fell, he got Mr. Benero out.

  “Oh, my boy.” Mauve grasped him hard around the middle. “I am so glad you are home.”

  “I’m so sorry about Colton, that I couldn’t be here…” He did his best to keep his composure. Tristan wrapped his arms around him, and his heart broke for the warlock.

  “Where is Sera?” Dom asked, wringing his hands. He looked a wreck. A fine layer of dust coated each of them.

  “She’s safe for now,” he said. “Not here.”

  Dominick nodded. “You still have clearance to get into the dungeons?”

  “As far as I know. What’s going on?” he asked and released Dom’s parents.

  “I’ll tell you on the way.”

  “Dom, I need to get to the barracks, report to my post.”

  Dominick seethed at him, his lip curled. “If you had any love for my brother, you would take me into the dungeon.”

  Al sighed. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Outside the tower, Alistair worked to keep his rage in check. He was ready to rip the Council chambers to the ground. A crowd had gathered in front of the tower entrance. Two guards struggled to keep the mob back.

  Al and Dominick pushed their way to the gate.

  “Captain Alcott?”

  “Cain, why are you away from your post?” Alistair asked as he pushed to the front.

  “We’ve been reassigned. They put us with another company two days ago.”

  “What the fuck are they doing?” he asked, now at the tower entrance.

  “I don’t know, sir,” Cain said. “You need access below?”

  Al nodded. The gate rose, and he and Dominick slipped inside. A reeking musk of bodies and dirt wafted from below. It had never smelled this bad before.

  “They also started executions.” Dominick heaved, pulling his robe above his nose.

  “That’s not new.”

  “Daily!”

  Fuck. “How many?”

  “Dozens,” Dominick said as they trekked downward. “The Council’s paranoid. Claiming each prisoner is a spy.”

  Dom had explained they needed to find his friend. Alistair wasn’t sure what level they would have placed him in, so they’d planned to work their way down. Now they reached the first set of cells. Each contained coven members. The stench of death was so pungent that Al wondered how many of them were alive. “Who’s carrying them out?”

  Dominick stopped for a second and rubbed his forehead. “The Council is condemning, but the aliato are completing the executions.”

  Alistair looked at his best friend’s baby brother. Dust coated his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, and his movements were jerky. Al hesitated. He wanted to force Dom to return to the surface and rest, but he knew the oracle would put up a fight Al really didn’t have the energy for.

  The next level down, the coven prisoners were more lively. They reached through the cell bars with dirty hands, begging for food, crying for release. Each had a set of onyx manacles wrapped too tightly around their wrists. They must be terrified. The onyx ripped away their magic.

  Another level down were the interrogation rooms. Warded walls prevented any noise from escaping. Alistair and Dominick peeked into every small window to see who was inside. The first three were empty; the fourth held Ophelia.

  She was alone. Eyes closed, cross-legged on the floor. Her hands lay open in her lap, and her mouth was moving.

  He sighed.

  What would his father make of him now? Bringing witches to their deaths, abandoning everyone he loved. Allowing himself to be used as a pawn in the Council’s plans. He should be ashamed of himself.

  Ophelia snapped her eyes open, held up three fingers, and pointed to the wall leading farther into the tower. Alistair gave her an apologetic smile, and she returned it.

  “Dom.” He pointed down the hall. Dom ran ahead of him. He must have found who he was looking for, because the noise that came from the warlock was one of pure emotional agony.

  When Al reached him, Dominick was clawing at the door. Inside the cell, a warlock lay motionless on the ground.

  “Theo!” Dominick cried out, slamming his palm against the window.

  Al grabbed him around the neck and covered his mouth.

  “Be quiet,” he hissed in his ear. “He can’t hear you. It’s warded.”

  Dominick stopped squirming, and Alistair let him go. He watched Dominick cry at the door, punching, throwing his magic at it, but it was useless.

  “Come on, say your goodbyes.” The stare Dom gave him was deadly. Al hadn’t meant forever, but they had to leave, and soon. He took a few steps back to give them a semblance of privacy.

  “Look at me, please,” Dominick begged at the door. “Al, look, he’s alive.” His face was joyous, but he quickly crumbled to see his friend’s state. The warlock’s eyes were black and swollen, his nose shattered, leaning too far toward his right cheek.

  Dominick put his palm to the door. “I’ll get you out.”

  Alistair looked away, embarrassed to be interrupting such an intimate moment between the two of them. He remembered when Colton told him of Dominick’s preferences. He’d been a little put off, blaming his discomfort on his parents’ conservative views, but as they’d grown older, he’d understood that love was love. Colton was always supportive of Dom, so why should Al be any different?

  Dominick kissed the pads of his fingertips and laid them on the glass. Theo mirrored him and smiled, splitting his lip further. The battered warlock’s cheeks were stained with heavy tears, and his desperation was clear.

  This wasn’t a promise.

  This was a goodbye.

  “I don’t want to leave him,” Dominick croaked.

  “We need the incantation to get him out. If you’re caught down here, they’ll lock you up too. We need to develop a plan. I have to get Sera, and we can figure this out all together.”

  “No, Sera can’t come here. Galene said she isn’t safe.”

  “I don’t think any of us are very safe right now if there is a demon army at our doorstep.” Al blew out a breath, trying to calm himself. “Lavinia wants her back, and I’ve got to trust Sera’s mother will make sure she’s protected.”

  Dominick scoffed. “Doubtful.” He glared at the warlock. “Fine, let’s get her.”

  Al gave them another moment alone, then they started toward the surface.

  They were almost at ground level when three large warlocks, Chair Blackwell, and an aliato entered the dungeons. Alistair bowed deeply to the chair, and thankfully Dominick followed his lead. The aliato warrior was menacing: his chest puffed out, his bright white wings lifted well above the damp floor. The light-bringer let out something like a snarl as they passed.

  Nausea rolled through Al. He knew which interrogation room they were headed to and what would happen to the witch inside.

  Ophelia had known what she was getting into when she’d agreed to comply with the Council’s wishes. He’d done his duty, and now she would suffer the consequences. It wasn’t his fault.

  Then why did he feel so sick?

  Chapter sixty

  Dominick

  His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  Theo, his Theo, was… Dom couldn’t think it. His condition was barbaric. His beautiful face marred and bloody. They had beaten him, tortured him.

  Alistair instructed the guards to lift the steel gate from the tower’s entrance. As soon as Dom was able to pass, he ran and vomited in the bushes. “I’ve got to get to Sera’s room. There’s a book…”

  “Do I want to know what’s in this book?” Al asked.

  Dominick wiped his mouth. If they destroyed the evidence, Theo might have a chance. A mastria had probably already broken into Theo’s mind, but at least there wouldn’t be physical proof. The last thing he wanted to do was get Al mixed up in this. “Do I want to know what went on in the Council chambers?”

  Al shook his head.

  “Then no, you really, really don’t want to know what’s in it.” The streets were bare of anything living. Most of the coven seemed to have escaped into the Citadel proper. Crackling flames and sulfur surrounded them, and still, projectiles crashed. Most of the Citadel was stone or marble; the worst damage wouldn’t be from fire but to the buildings themselves.

  “I’m going to get Sera, but I’m doing it somewhere that’s not going to collapse any minute.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be anywhere safe to me,” Dom said.

  “We’ll go outside the Ogdelo.” Al had his hands on his hips.

  “And how do you know the main complex won’t fall?”

  Alistair just shook his head. “Remember what you just said about what I heard in the Council chambers?”

  Dominick rolled his eyes.

  “They won’t let the main complex fall. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Fine.”