After hours of torture, the elken leaped across a narrow point in the river, and they were officially in the Deadlands.

  Hondor pranced as if the sand burned his hooves. Vasso shushed him.

  “So this is the Deadlands?” Sera asked. Tall dunes obscured the view to the south, but everywhere else was nothing but sand and black rock.

  Farther to the north, she could make out an outcrop of buildings, though they were too far to see how many and what condition they were in.

  “We’ll walk from here.” Vasso slid off the elken. He reached for Snik, who happily jumped into his arms, then Vasso held his hands out to her.

  Sera smirked as she leaned forward. She didn’t miss the way he slowly set her down, making sure that she had contact with his body the whole way to the ground. His sweat, that woody smell of ash, surrounded her. She’d bottle it up if she could.

  “Real smooth.”

  “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  Shadow help her; she wanted to know them all. Every trick, every moan, every lick, every touch.

  Vasso patted Hondor on his shoulder, and the elken took off.

  They trudged through the sand, Snik scampering, chasing insects into holes, and slowly made their way up the dunes.

  The sun was an inferno. She wished she had kept her Citadel trousers instead of the thick black leather ensemble Vasso had made for her. Sweat beaded and slid down the creases of her legs and back. Anywhere the outfit wasn’t touching skin was a puddle of perspiration. She wiped her brow with her forearm.

  Vasso shook his head. “You’ll have to adapt before you go underground.”

  “I thought it would be cooler underground?”

  “Some parts, but not Gehenna. It’s basically built around Eraphon’s heart.”

  “You’ll just have to make me some new clothes, then.”

  He smiled at her so genuinely that she felt that tug between them pull taut. “It’s an honor.” With a snap of his fingers, her black leather pants, boots, and shirt turned into a long white linen skirt and sandals. A thin camisole covered her torso, and she didn’t even mind its immodest sheerness. She groaned, twirling in the breeze. The sea air hit her sweaty legs, giving instant relief.

  “You should have done that an hour ago.”

  “And missed the delight of watching you twirl?” Vasso smirked, then snapped again, changing into a white shirt and a pair of linen trousers to match hers.

  “You ever going to teach me that trick?”

  “We don’t have the exact same magic, Subdina.”

  He didn’t remember what had happened the night before.

  She flicked her wrist and thought of the wind she had manipulated, recalling what it had felt like.

  Sera rotated her wrists in a winding motion. The purple amethyst from her enhancer glittered in her palm, and just as she’d envisioned, a tiny whirlwind formed between them.

  His face went pale. “How?”

  “Last night, when you were hurt, something happened… between us.” She gulped. “There was a quake, and then a blue beam of power shot up to the sky in the west. When it went out, I could manipulate your magic. It doesn’t feel like mine. It’s as if I’m borrowing from you.”

  “So it’s done, then. They’ve killed Ophelia.”

  Her heart seized in her chest. So soon? They’d left only days ago. “But the magic, I felt it.”

  “She told me she made a deal, and it seems like Eraphon made good on her promise.” He rubbed the sweat from his brow.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “You know as much as I do how stubborn she was. Come on.”

  He extended his hand, and she took it. This was war. That’s what Al had said, as if that was a good enough excuse to kill an innocent woman.

  Vasso helped her to the top of a dune. Sera’s breath caught at the sight of the azure water. It was more vibrant than the ocean at home. The same color as that beam of light that had extended into the night sky.

  “Is—um—is the water safe?” For so long she’d wanted to touch the ocean, and now it felt like a small conciliation against the weight of Ophelia’s death.

  “Go ahead,” he whispered.

  Waves lapped against her shins, then up to her hips in a rhythm only the moons chanted to the stars. The rocking eased some of the burden on her chest, and the water… it was everything Sera expected it to be.

  Strong arms wrapped around her. His heartbeat ticked in an opposite beat to the rising tide.

  “We met forty years ago. Ophelia was holed up in this dilapidated cottage like a feral cat. She’d been shunned by your coven for twenty years at that point.” Sera stayed silent. “I didn’t know what to make of her, but she had already been made aware of me. She was always writing in that dusty book of hers, leaning over bowls of water. I think that’s why she loved the pools so much. She hadn’t had access to them for so long.”

  The weight of his chin on her shoulder was soothing against the unease in her heart. The smoothness of his cheek and the warmth of his breath on her ear brought tears to her eyes. It was ending. The safety of his arms.

  “She talked about you the most, though.”

  “Me?” Sera asked.

  “She was excited to meet you.” He chuckled, the vibration humming through her. “We traveled together sometimes. When she met me at my manor after a long absence, explaining that it was time to start preparing, we worked and planned.”

  “For what?”

  “A better world.” She could feel his smile against her cheek. “Let’s get out of the water. I feel like mer bait.”

  This life was short. She’d experienced loss, heartbreak, destruction, and death. It wasn’t that she wanted to save her sister because it was the right thing to do; perhaps, deep down, it was an escape of her own. To be away from the coven, away from harming the ones she loved over and over again.

  Vasso settled in the sand. She sat in the space between his legs, cocooning into him, and watched the sunset. Wrapped in the arms of her destiny while her sister suffered, while Dominick suffered.

  So long she had waited to belong, and now that she was here, she couldn’t help but feel guilt creep in. Why should she get what she wanted while so many others didn’t?

  “This is what I wanted to show you.” Vasso pointed out over the water. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky burst into an array of colors, mirroring the pools’ threads Ophelia had so desperately loved. Orange, blue, yellow, rose, indigo, purple: It was all there, swaying in a magical form of light. “Sunrises over Plaranina are beautiful, but nothing compares to a sunset over Sidnah.”

  “It’s as if she’s here.”

  “She’s somewhere. I doubt we are rid of that witch yet.” He pulled her tight to him.

  Sera waited for the sky to turn dark, soaking in every second of the sensations of his arms around her. “Will you take me?”

  He sighed. “I think we could come up with a better plan than charging into the depths of Gehenna and trading you for your sister.”

  “Do you have something up your sleeve you’d care to share?”

  “I need time to think, to plan.”

  “Vasso, you said yourself that you and Ophelia had been planning. If there is nothing, then I need to go, with or without you.”

  He stiffened behind her. “I’m not letting you set foot underground without me.”

  Oh, he was being stubborn.

  Raven landed in the sand beside her, threw a note into her lap, and croaked so loud she winced. “Where have you been?” Sera unrolled the paper, but the scribble wasn’t Dominick’s.

  They killed Ophelia. The Council has gone mad and has been torturing innocents. I traveled out as many as I could. Tell Vasso we’re holed up in his manor. It’s a mess, but I didn’t have anywhere else to take them.

  —Alistair

  P.S. You need to know that Dominick is not well.

  Chapter sixty-nine

  Seraphina

  Sera handed Vasso the note.

  “Shit,” he said. He stood and pulled Sera up with him. A moment later, their tent was set up at the base of the dune.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said.

  Vasso nodded, then whistled into the wind. A shadow sprite appeared, its body almost translucent. Its delicate wings fluttered so fast she could barely see them, its arms and legs too long and gangly for the rest of its body.

  “I knew it.”

  He smirked. “Tell the domovoi to welcome the witches and warlocks. Provide them with anything they may need.” The sprite flitted away on a puff of darkness.

  “How do you have immediate access to shadow sprites?”

  “The perks of being a lord.” He whistled, and another appeared. “Get to my contact in the Citadel for a status report.” This sprite kissed Vasso’s cheek before it left.

  Sera paced, wringing her fingers one by one. “Should I be jealous?” she asked.

  “Never.”

  “This isn’t good, Vasso. Whatever time you thought we had to make a new plan is gone now.” They had to leave as soon as possible before things got worse. Before Supay decided that Nora wasn’t worth keeping around, prophecy or not. And what did Al mean by the Council having gone mad? Torture? It had never been out of the realm of possibility with the elders. They’d thrown innocents in the tower before.

  A stone dropped from the pit of her stomach down to her ankles. Alistair was concerned… Alistair. The Mesar… the one who reported directly to Renata… Oh, Shadow.

  “I’m not rushing anything. Let me hear back from my contact in the Citadel, then we can discuss.”

  “Do I want to know who that is?” she asked.

  He sighed, materializing her pack from a pocket of space. “I think it would be best for all parties concerned that you do not.”

  She kept pacing. If Al had needed to get them out, it wasn’t good. She was sure he had almost burned himself out doing so. And what did he mean, Dominick wasn’t doing well? Was he hurt? Sick?

  “Everything will be fine, Nula. I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

  “Where’s Snik?” Her brain was going too fast to keep up with the amount of information coming in.

  “He ran out maybe twenty minutes ago. Probably chasing some rodent.” Vasso ripped a bush up by its roots, lit it on fire, and set it into the sand. She supposed that was one way to start a campfire. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

  Moons, she didn’t think anything would. Except for… “I think you should tell me what you know about Gehenna. All I’ve done is read about it in books.” Information seemed to settle her, no matter the circumstance.

  He sighed and rubbed his brow. “Us demons, all different Dark Ones roam freely below. It’s not just goblins like Snik. There are fouler things in the dark. Trolls, lords, the agbris, golems—every creature you’ve ever heard of is down there somewhere.”

  She swallowed hard. If he wasn’t coming with her, she’d be so fucked.

  “I’ve only befriended one of the furies; the other two are vile. Then there are the souls at the Shadow gates. Sometimes the beasties give me trouble, but not usually.”

  She sat in the sand and stared into the flames. The crackle of leaves and small branches twisted in on each other as they burned. “You mean like the totrus.”

  Vasso sat beside her, their shoulders touching. “You asked once about our life cycle. Demons can live for centuries, sometimes up to a millennium, but that doesn’t mean we don’t die. To reach our full power, our souls regenerate.”

  “Like the agbris.” The way they had stitched themselves back together after she and Al killed them still made her shiver.

  “The more powerful the demon, the more regenerations.”

  “Did you…” She didn’t know how to ask. “With the totrus?”

  “No, that didn’t kill me. The bastard just knocked me out.”

  But she had killed it. The giant had been reduced to ash as soon as she lit it aflame.

  “How many times have you died?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’d say once every decade or so.”

  “Over thirty times!”

  He laughed. “I didn’t lie when I said I was the most dangerous thing in those woods. And before you ask, no… we don’t know how many lives we get.” His voice got quiet. “But I fear I’m at the end.”

  A shadow sprite materialized at his ear, its wings fluttered furiously. Vasso’s jaw turned as sharp as a blade.

  “What is it?”

  “Thank you,” he said to the sprite, then turned those moons-gray eyes on her. “The Citadel—it seems there was an attack. Many of the inner buildings had been leveled, especially in the lower quarter.”

  Her world stilled. All those coven members she’d taken care of over the years. Bringing them packages of elixirs and basic food. It couldn’t all be gone. “What are the casualties?”

  “It seems that was only the first wave. When Ophelia had her moment, she took out two Council members. Renata and Blackwell. Thorne, or at least her body, seems to be missing.”

  “Shadow…” Her people. How could Ophelia have done this to her people? Wrapping her arms around herself, Sera rocked. No wonder Dominick wasn’t doing well. Colton, then the Citadel… She couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t picture what the destruction looked like.

  How many of her people were dead, and for what reason were they torturing innocents?

  “You must be hungry. I’ll find us something to eat.” He stalked past the dunes into the night.

  She unpacked and repacked her bag, but the later it got, the more nervous she became. Two daggers, two summoning stones, one Legion uniform, two pairs of socks, a bedroll, and her cloak. Everything was there. She needed to ask Vasso for some different clothes, another set of reinforced leathers, maybe.

  As she rolled one of the round summoning stones in her palm, her heart ached. She hadn’t thought of Alistair at all the past few days. And the loyal brute had saved Dominick. He saved as many coven members as he could.

  But he couldn’t save her, not this time.

  She dropped the enchanted stone into her pack.

  Sera wanted to cry and scream and tear the world apart.

  You could, her magic chimed. You have the power now.

  “I don’t want to destroy. I just want to live my life peacefully with the people I love,” she said.

  That was not written. All you have is this time, use it Seraphina.

  A slight tug on the tether wrapping her heart had her looking up. Vasso was shirtless—her favorite version of him—and carried an animal of some kind. Snik tottered behind him, holding a desert hare by the ears.

  A bead of sweat rolled down Vasso’s lean muscles as he prepared the meat.

  Statues in the artifacts vault had nothing on him. He was chiseled with perfect definition. He took a drink from a waterskin, and the sheen on his chest, over his abs, had her licking her lips.

  Vasso’s eyes turned reddish when he glanced at her, as if he already knew, as if he could sense what she wanted. Sera bit her lip. It was her last night above ground, alive… who knew. And she wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

  Hips swaying, she walked toward him. Sera placed a finger on his chest and ran her nail down the groove between his rock-hard abs. Vasso sucked in a breath as she made eye contact, then lifted her finger to her mouth and sucked his salty sweat from it.

  “Seraphina.” Her name on his lips had her heart beating faster. “Don’t continue unless you mean it.” His voice was low and dark—desire burned in his eyes, igniting her core.

  The thread wrapped around her heart, tying her to him, pulled taut.

  She slipped her finger in his waistband and pulled him toward her. The warmth of his mouth on hers had the universe standing still. For three heartbeats, he restrained himself. Three heartbeats of quivering muscle beneath her palms, then he broke. He kissed her hard and deep, teeth clashing, and that tongue, that mighty tongue of his, was consuming her. Sera arched into him, spiraling with the need to be touched. Devoured.

  Loved.

  He broke the kiss just long enough to nibble on her jaw. Sera moaned at the sensation. Vasso gripped the back of her head and whispered in her ear. “From the moment I saw you, I wanted you bare to me. I wanted to fuck you with your hair falling around you like the goddess you are.” He sucked on her earlobe, dragged his teeth over the sensitive skin on her neck. Then back to her mouth.

  His hands glided down her back and gripped her ass to him, giving her a taste of friction that she needed so desperately. She moaned for it, craved it. He hoisted her up, and Sera wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. Vasso let out a guttural purr from the back of his throat as if he’d been starving for years.

  Vasso carried her inside the tent. The cots were gone, replaced with a single large bed. She clung to him as if her life depended on it, refusing to break their kiss. With one quick motion, he ripped the camisole off her and set the white linen skirt aflame.

  “I’ll make you more,” he assured her.

  She didn’t care if she never wore clothes again, as long as he kept touching her. Vasso ground his hips into hers, only the thin fabric of his trousers between them. She couldn’t control her moan as he kissed the hollow at the base of her throat, tracing the curve of her breast with his fingertips. Vasso pressed the length of his body against her again, then rubbed his callused palm over her nipple as it pebbled.

  She arched for his grasp, but he pulled away.

  “I am going to take my time with you,” he said. He traced the grooves of her glistening stomach and every rib with the tips of his fingers. She shuddered.

  “Vasso.” Her voice was thick as she ran her fingers through his snow-white hair.

  “My name from your lips is better than any music, any prayer, Nula.” Vasso sucked her nipple into his mouth, trailing his fingertips down her stomach. The drag of his lips and tongue against her hardened bud made her molten.