Vasso’s black flames raged in a wave to extinguish the fire the beast had set. He’d turned his head only for a second, and the totrus swung a full-grown tree like a sword.

  “Vasso!” Sera screamed so hard her throat burned. He turned just in time, his eyes like red saucers, then dissolved into a puddle of mist.

  Sera cursed as the giant directed his attention at her. Would she be able to face this thing on her own? She let out a breath when Vasso appeared out of a pool of darkness in front of her.

  “Get back to the tent!” he screamed over the crash of thunder. “Seraphina, go!”

  It was too late. The totrus ran toward them, the log high above his head. He took a mighty swing.

  “Oh, Shadow,” she whispered before Vasso scooped her in his arms and twisted. Both of them flew backward. Sera screamed in agony. That bond between them ripped. His beautiful face—limp, and the totrus was reaching for him.

  “No!” she screamed.

  Sera ripped her arm free and threw a ball of black flame at the beast’s hand. The thing reeled back, shrieking a sound that rattled her teeth. Shimmying from underneath Vasso, she got to her feet.

  A line of fire raged beyond the giant, and beyond it, the cyclone stayed in one spot, spinning—waiting for a command.

  The beast watched her. All six eyes were wide, its mouths snarling as her mist poured from her arms. “You are not meant for this power,” it raged.

  “Maybe not, but it’s mine now.” Sera pulled a flame in each hand. “Barijara,” she said, and her barrier snapped around her body. She wished she had her enhancer; the shield would probably last longer. But right now her only task was to prevent this thing from taking Vasso—her Vasso.

  “He belongs below!”

  “You will not touch him.”

  The giant’s shoulders tensed, his massive knuckles turned white around the log. “I will not let a witch stand in my way.”

  “Your mistake.” A whirling hiss of flame and anger ripped through her body. Drawing on that deep well of power within her, she summoned her vatra and hurled her darkness at the beast. A hiss of flames on skin steeped the air in a noxious, acrid odor.

  The totrus tried to dodge but failed.

  Mythical beast or not, no one was going to touch Vasso. Not unless she was dead. Spinning, she wrapped her magic around her hand, creating that scourge that had given Vasso his scar. This time, she lined it with her flame.

  Sera took her place, standing guard over Vasso’s broken body. She rubbed her hand over the leather protecting her sternum, willing that pain to go away. Willing the feel of Vasso to come back, their tether to pull tight.

  A trembling beneath her feet had her swaying. The totrus tumbled to the ground, momentarily knocked down by the quake. Sera dropped beside the demon lord. She wiped the rain and dirt from his forehead. “Wake up,” she said, cradling his head. “You need to wake up.”

  Suddenly, Sera gasped. Her hands were on either side of his face. It had been this. This was the image she’d seen. He wouldn’t die by her hand at all… he’d die here… now.

  “Don’t you dare fucking die on me.” She shook him.

  A blinding blue light far to the west speared the darkness. Like a pillar, a beacon direct to the moons. Almost as soon as the pillar was there… it was gone.

  The ground shook harder.

  A wave of power rushed over them; her barrier disintegrated. Vibrating and volatile. The totrus screeched, and Sera covered her ears with her hands.

  What a sight this made.

  The flames grew and grew, devouring the meadow almost from under them. Vasso’s cyclone raged and built. The totrus bumbled to his feet.

  Sera held tight to her scourge.

  Destiny. You are his destiny… follow it, her magic said. Sera looked down at the limp demon lord. Use it, control it.

  She placed her hand in the center of his chest. Reaching for wind, for him, she pulled, and the cyclone moved.

  “Impossible,” the beast raged. “Supay will kill you.”

  “Let him try.” Sera yanked hard on that magic. And just like she’d commanded the scourge in her hand—it obeyed. The twister barreled through the field, ripping the giant from the earth.

  Around and around he went. Red flame and ice swirled.

  “Vatera,” she said, and threw her flames into the swirling mass of wind. The beast’s howl had her wincing. In a few seconds, it was done. She’d killed it.

  Seraphina fell to her knees.

  “Get up,” she cried over him. The heat from the totrus’s flames grew closer.

  You can do it, her magic said.

  This power in her felt new, raw, and potent. That bond between them: She reached for it, followed it with her mind, and placed her palm back on his chest. Something between them clicked, and an old, powerful magic poured into her. She could taste the earth and the air. The crackle of lightning, even the rain in the clouds, called to her. She was one with them, with Eraphon itself.

  Hello, Osveknik. Who her magic was talking to, she had no idea.

  Sera lifted her hand to the cyclone. “Quiet.” Ever so slowly, the phenomenon came to a halt, the black flame within it gone.

  Coaxing her vatra against the fire, she urged her black flames to put it out. The rain had slowed, but with each push of her magic, every ember dampened. She’d never been in control like this before, never been able to stop the destruction.

  When the last bit of flame was extinguished, she picked up Vasso with four tendrils of her mist and rushed to the tent.

  Chapter sixty-six

  Seraphina

  Vasso floated behind her on a platform of mist. The downpour had reduced to a drizzle. The booming thunder was now a rumble; gone were the crashes of lightning.

  “Snik?” Sera called out. The goblin rushed from the dilapidated tent. Her hands shook something fierce, but as those little green arms wrapped tight around her legs, she felt a smidgen of relief. “Stick close to him.”

  Sera lowered her magic to the ground, and Snik whined over Vasso.

  “Vatera,” she called to her magic, throwing ropes of shadow toward the fallen tree that had knocked down the corner of the tent. She tossed the trunk and branches into the river. Thankfully, some of Vasso’s magic was still working, and their shelter popped up in place.

  Slowly, she maneuvered Vasso above a cot before setting him down gently.

  You are advancing.

  She didn’t want to acknowledge that voice in her head, but she had to agree. Something had just clicked. Easy as breathing, her magic came to her now.

  Snik whined, grasping Vasso’s hand.

  So still. He was so still. Barely a rise and fall of his chest. Her stomach sank. “Vasso, I need you to wake up,” she said. Her chin was trembling as hard as her hands. He couldn’t die.

  How would she do this without him? Not only getting to Nora, but… life. Over the weeks she’d spent training and getting to know the demon lord, she’d relied on him like an anchor. Even now, she felt like she was falling. Blaming these feelings on fate was cheap. For so long she’d searched for someone who understood her, and here was her opposite, her equal, a twin flame.

  Giving in to whatever they were would probably ruin her forever. But first, she needed him not to die.

  Sera traced his brow with her fingers, down the side of his cheek, over his lips.

  She had to keep telling herself that he was breathing, he was still alive. But Shadow damn him, why had he done it? He hadn’t needed to save her, just get out of the way.

  Settling herself in the damp grass, Sera rested her head against his cot. Rubbing her chest, she remembered the pain when the totrus hit him. It still ached, like that fateful line between them was being sawed away. But deep and buried, entwined through the ventricles of her heart, it was there.

  Vasso coughed. “Subdina?”

  “Thank Shadow, you’re all right,” she whispered, inspecting him closer.

  “Did you save me?” He gave her a weak smile.

  “I thought you were dead. I thought that giant was going to take you.”

  He coughed again. “To be fair, your distraction is what got me injured in the first place. Something I have not been in centuries.”

  She snorted.

  Vasso ran his knuckles across her cheek. She couldn’t help but push those stray strands of hair back. Wave after wave of emotion rocked her. Fear, anger, sadness, relief, all of it manifesting in the tears now rolling down her cheeks.

  “Nula, do not cry.”

  “I thought I lost you.”

  Vasso winced before scooting over to make room in his cot.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself,” she said.

  “Nothing but bruises. My spine has already knit itself back together. Lie with me.”

  “I’m soaked.”

  “If I had it my way, you’d always be soaked around me.”

  “Vasso!”

  He chuckled and snapped his fingers. Gone were her heavy wet leathers. Now, his oversize gray satin nightshirt hung to her knees. “I know you can make these fit me.”

  “They’re perfect how they are.” He motioned for her to come closer.

  Sera carefully lay beside him, nuzzling the crook of his neck. Smelling his skin, absorbing his warmth. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she said.

  “What? Make jokes about how wet I dream of making you?” Vasso wrapped his arms around her.

  She huffed a laugh. “Die on me, you idiot.”

  “All right, I’ll let it be your choice then.”

  Chapter sixty-seven

  Dominick

  Every time Dominick closed his eyes, he saw flashes of the scattered bodies and blood that had lined the tent floor. Sword slashing, maimed prisoners, his coven.

  To then be traveled to such an opulent room was unnerving. A four-poster bed, red velvet duvet, and carpet. Tapestries on the wall, candles burning in sconces—it was beautiful. And Theo was here, so this was where Dom stayed.

  “Don’t leave me,” he whispered, cradling Theo’s head. His sandy blond hair felt like straw against his palm. “There is so much more we need to do, to see.”

  Sleep pulled at him, but he refused to give in.

  Instead, Dominick sat there soothing him for hours. He told him every childhood memory he could think of. He told him about his first crush, when he lost his virginity. His first day as an oracle.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?” Dom’s back ached something fierce, but he refused to move. “You directed me to the correct pool because I had my head too far up my own ass to find the training pool.” He chuckled to himself. “I thought you were cute. Convinced myself you were too quiet, bashful.” He rubbed a salve the singular healer had left him across Theo’s dry lips. “Let’s be honest, I was loud enough for both of us.”

  He desperately wished that he hadn’t noticed the way Theo’s breaths were further and further apart.

  Dom’s voice cracked. “You haven’t even met Sera.”

  Leaning down, he kissed Theo’s forehead, each one of his bruised eyelids. The Council had broken him. Battered him and tortured him, leaving him for dead.

  Breath after breath came in gasps. Dominick pulled Theo to his chest, cradling him in his arms.

  Shadow, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

  “I love you, Theodore Sano.” It had been the biggest surprise when the words slipped out of his mouth. But they’d been true.

  If only his love could heal him. If only there was something he could do to save him. He’d bargain. He’d trade his life if only someone would take it.

  Theo exhaled for the final time, going slack in his arms.

  “I love you, and you never got to hear me say it—not even once.”

  Chapter sixty-eight

  Seraphina

  She was screaming, and he was dying.

  Over and over. Falling off the cliff where they’d watched the sun rise over Plaranina, stabbed through the heart, roasted alive in a vat of molten lava, and every time, she’d tried to save him and failed.

  Over and over, it played in her dreams—a new kind of nightmare.

  Sera startled awake, only to be met with the scrunched brows of the man she’d just watched be crushed to death hovering above her.

  “You shouldn’t have nightmares, Subdina.”

  “Well, tell that to Shadow. Isn’t she the one who controls the dream realm?” Sera rubbed her eyes.

  He chuckled. “Shadow hasn’t been answering prayers for a couple of thousand years.”

  “What are you talking about? Where does our magic go, then?”

  He shrugged, then bent his head down to nuzzle her neck. Unable to help herself, Sera purred under him. They’d slept all night together; still, it wasn’t enough. Apparently Vasso thought so too. The brush of his teeth down her throat was enough to send her writhing.

  “We should stay here.” His lips dragged against the skin above her collarbone. “I’ll build us a castle, just us…”

  Now that was a dream. One in which she could see herself so clearly. The two of them together, laughing over a glass of wine, reading books, her screaming his name while he took her under the rising moons. Shadow, she wanted it. Maybe that made her a bad sister, but to be free of responsibilities without guilt? A dream.

  “You know fate has other plans,” she said.

  Vasso sighed and rested his chin on her chest. Those moons-gray eyes smoldered into her. “Have I ever told you how much I hate prophecies?”

  Sera tucked her chin and kissed his forehead. “Vasso, as much as I’m enjoying the sight of you between my tits, I really have to pee.”

  Reluctantly, he lifted himself off her.

  It was bright outside—brighter than it should have been for the morning sun. She left the tent to relieve herself, then returned to a new pair of black leather pants folded on her cot. Underneath was an intricate reinforced corset with shoulder protection. Vasso was nowhere in sight.

  “He thinks of everything, doesn’t he?” she said with a smile.

  Snik stretched and yawned, leaving her to change in private. She slipped the corset over her head. The leather was pliable, the fit snug, but it was thick enough to prevent someone slashing through, at least on the first swipe. It covered her stomach and chest, making her feel like a warrior, and she admired the detail on the shoulder pads.

  The flap of the tent lifted, and Snik walked in holding a black raven feather.

  Shit, Raven.

  She’d forgotten entirely about her familiar. But the more pressing question was why Dominick hadn’t yet sent word back. The Citadel must be a flurry of activity. The Legion preparing for war, the streets bustling with nervous coven members. She’d never been exposed to the city in war mode and could only imagine the chaos.

  Sheathing the two daggers Alistair had left her at her hips, she clasped the enhancer to her palm. Today they’d enter the Deadlands, and she didn’t want to be unprepared ever again.

  In the sunlight, Vasso was tying on forearm braces that matched her leather corset. “Last night you looked like a river goddess, but today you look like a general.” His eyes roamed over her body. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

  “I didn’t think the rivers had goddesses.”

  “There have been many deities on Eraphon. Most have lost their following and have abandoned us. But I promise you this… you would outshine all of them.” He approached and lifted her chin. “Have I ever told you that I love it when you blush?”

  The heat across her face doubled. “You know, Lord Vasso, I think you envision me as some innocent maiden. I assure you, I’m more experienced than you think.”

  His eyes flashed red. Then he kissed her, and the shiver of pleasure that went through her had her pressing into him. His lips were like velvet, and the way he breathed her in had her wishing she’d taken him up on his offer to stay.

  “Delicious,” he murmured into her mouth.

  Sera giggled and pushed him away. “How are we going to get to Port Sidnah? Ponic and Navine ran off in the storm.”

  Vasso smiled. She caught her breath at the beauty of him. He whistled, and heavy hoofbeats pounded in the distance.

  The elken king crested the knoll. “He says you may call him Hondor.”

  “Nice to see you again, Hondor.”

  “He says he’s happy to see you as well.”

  “It amazes me you can speak with them.” Hondor’s fur was silken between her fingers as she petted his shoulder. He was a magnificent animal.

  “You learn a lot when you’ve had over three centuries to roam above ground,” Vasso said, then took her hand. “Up you go.” He lifted her onto Hondor’s shoulders, then placed Snik in front of her.

  “What about you?”

  Vasso smirked, then hopped up behind her. She didn’t know whether she should be turned on or comforted. He wrapped his arm around her, his palm splayed on her stomach, his lips on her ear. “Are you ready, Nula?”

  Ready wasn’t the word for it. Sera adjusted herself to lean back into his chest. "Another pet name?"

  He chuckled low in her ear. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

  With a click of his tongue, they were off.

  When fighting the agbris, she hadn’t had time to appreciate the animal’s grace and majestic form. Elken almost glided above the ground, weaving around each tree and branch in a perfectly timed dance. And with every leap, her body rubbed against Vasso’s, sending a jolt through her.

  She knew he was having a hard time containing himself as well. His hand had dropped from her stomach to the waistband of her leather pants. His thumb lazily dipped below, in a question or promise, she wasn’t sure. All Sera knew was that she was drenched. Still, their conversation yesterday, before everything went to shit, rang in her mind.

  He didn’t want to bring her to Gehenna. He was bound, but by whom she didn’t know. Part of her had hoped that he’d changed his mind. That maybe he would petition the steward for her. Use his power as a lord to ask for mercy. Was that too much to wish for?