“Or I’ll be displeased.” Before my eyes, he schooled his expression into adoration. He traced the pads of his thumbs over the rise of my cheeks, saying, “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”

  A lie. The first he’d ever told me. “You did it for yourself. I begged you not to.”

  He forged ahead, unaffected by my declaration. “You told me to survive, so I did. I love you, and I want a life with you. That hasn’t and won’t change. Don’t you want a life with me?”

  “With you, yes.” Desperately. I clasped his wrists, clinging to him, hoping to make him understand. “But I don’t want a life with you and Astan. I told you that. Warned you. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

  “You don’t understand. Not yet.” Leaning down, unwaveringly confident, he pressed his lips into mine. A soft, gentle act of affection. “But I’m assured you will.”

  A flash of those golden stars sent a chilling rush through me. “Are you even Soalian?” He couldn’t be, not with Soal’s enemy—our enemy—cohabiting in his body.

  Another flare of irritation. “That doesn’t matter.” He tightened his grip. “You’ll host Briar Rose, and you’ll see. We were destined to rule together.”

  More scooping, more salt, the burn in the center of my chest almost unbearable. Destined, he’d said. My path was altered the day I bonded with Domino. Was this to be the result: a life at war with Cyrus? The very result I’d feared.

  The very result my book predicted.

  “Why did you accept him?” I rasped. There was no reason good enough. “Why?”

  “I saw my future with and without him.” He gave my cheekbones another caress, then hiked his shoulders. “I liked ‘with him’ better. It was the only way to keep you.”

  I screamed internally. “He’s a liar, Cyrus. You know that. You hate that. Why would you believe him? I’d already agreed to marry you. I would have stayed with you forever.” Now . . .

  A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “His visions corroborate what I read in Soal’s books.”

  “That’s because you’re missing a puzzle piece. But it’s not too late to undo this.” Please, don’t let it be too late. “Renounce Astan. Refuse to host him a minute more.” Could he? If all things were possible, then yes. “Please.”

  “I have no desire to do so.” Cyrus released me and stepped back. His head tilted up, and his eyes closed, as if he were savoring something sweet. “The power bubbling inside me . . . I’ve tasted only a fraction of what’s there. As soon as my body is used to it, I’ll have access to the full measure. The things I’ll be able to do . . .”

  My hope began to wither, but still I clung to what remained. If he’d tasted only a fraction of the god’s power, it absolutely wasn’t too late to free him. The problem was, he loved this. The power-hungry man before me would never willingly relinquish an ounce of the god’s ability.

  Cyrus strode to a table in the back, lifted a tome, and read the spine before setting it aside. “Briar Rose requires an answer, sweetness. She’s eager to enjoy her freedom, and she won’t wait much longer.” As he stretched his arms high in the air, the hem of his shirt rose, revealing the patch of tattooed skin between the garment and his fatigues. A never-before-seen scar, thick and raised, extended from one hip to the other.

  “What happened out there?” I asked, sick to my stomach. “With Felix, I mean.”

  Voice harder than stone, he said, “It’s not worth discussing.”

  As if only then noticing the blood on his hands, he frowned. With a wave at a far wall, he somehow transformed that portion of the room before my eyes. From wood panels to an open bathroom with a shelf of towels, a sink, a mirror framed in gold, and a matching shower stall, water already raining.

  A bold display of the very power he praised, and a blow to what little remained of my optimism.

  Cyrus gripped the neckline of his shirt from behind and pulled the material over his head. One glimpse of his familiar torso usually sent my heart skittering into a wild rhythm. Today, I looked upon a stranger. Oh, I knew those rock-solid muscles cut by years of training and battle intimately. Knew the treetop tattoo, with its branches riding the length of his arms, displaying flower buds that appeared to bloom before my eyes.

  He stripped completely, utterly unabashed, and walked into the spray. Winking at me, he all but purred, “Join me. I’ll make you glad you did.”

  My nails cut into my palms. “Only yesterday, you preferred to wait until our marriage.”

  “We can be married today, if you’ll agree to host Briar Rose. There’s no reason to wait.”

  There was no reason to reiterate my refusal of Briar Rose either.

  “You should clean up, if nothing else,” he said, undisturbed by my silence. “We have much to do.”

  Remembering I was streaked with blood, I stalked to the sink, where the mirror hung. I flinched. Oh, yes. Scarlet smeared my cheeks.

  Mouth dry, I swiped and wet a rag, then soaped my face. “Worth discussing or not, I’d like to hear the details of what happened inside the energy field.”

  “Very well.” His indulgent tone suggested he did this solely to please me. He shut off the water and snatched a towel. Drying off, he grated, “As I grappled with Felix, I couldn’t bring myself to deliver the killing blow. My reluctance allowed him to gain the upper hand, and he injured me. I was dying, we both knew it. He bragged that the first thing he would do as king is make you an example and take your head. That was when Astan showed me your future if I let myself die.”

  My insides flash froze. Cyrus, dying. How close I’d come to losing him. “Go on,” I croaked.

  He tossed the towel to the floor, withdrew clean clothing from a rack that suddenly replaced a wall, and dressed with stiff, forceful jerks. “He showed me you would escape death at Felix’s hand . . . and marry Domino.”

  In other words, the god had used another lie to bait him. I growled internally. “My relationship with Domino isn’t like that.” I’d given Cyrus my heart. My loyalty. Faithfulness wasn’t an option but a certainty.

  “Your relationship with Domino will never be like that. You are mine.” Cyrus swooped in, cupping my cheeks again. The golden stars lit up his eyes and stayed put as he studied me. “I am yours. Say it. Say those words.”

  I meant to pull away. To protest. I leaned closer, studying him in turn. Those stars. They spun, slowly at first, then faster and faster until becoming rings. Mesmerizing. Warmth cascaded through me, relaxing tense muscles.

  “Say it.” The husky entreaty tickled my ears.

  Yes. There was nothing I yearned to do more. I loved and adored this man. Our future was now and forever. “You are . . . I . . .” A buzzing sensation in the center of my chest seized my attention, halting my affirmation. What in the world?

  In the ensuing pause, I saw past the spinning and into an endless pool of writhing shadows. My horror returned, a sudden revelation shocking me to the core. This. This was how he’d won Rose. She’s under his spell.

  “Say it, Arden.” An unmistakable command this time, anger frothing within the words.

  And what would come next, hmm? Giving Briar Rose permission to inhabit me? “No,” I stated. “I will never be Astan’s.”

  His eyelids slitted. “You want the librarian.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, saying nothing, thinking nothing.

  “Perhaps you require a peek into Domino’s future.” Again, Cyrus waved a hand toward a wall. A hard jerk of his arm. In a mimic of the Rock, that wall became a screen that showcased something happening beyond it.

  We peered into a dungeon cell, with windowless rocky walls stained with splatters of crimson. Gasping, I pressed my fingers over my mouth. Mr. Vyle perched on the velvet-covered cushion of an antique chair, drinking whiskey as the librarian hung upside down from a chain anchored to the ceiling. Blood poured from multiple wounds into a bucket.

  Bile seared my throat. “Th-this isn’t the future. It’s a distortion.” It must be. Astan could only lie. “You’re trying to scare me into complying.”

  “I wasn’t, but I can.” He waved to the wall, and the screen suddenly peered into our suite.

  Holding my hand in a firm grip, he led me forward. In the span of a blink, we stood inside the bedroom we shared.

  When next he faced me, he was almost gleeful. “Let me show you what happens when I’m without Astan.” His pupils pulsed, eclipsing his irises for a single beat. They retracted, those six glowing stars gone.

  Dare I hope?

  Cyrus frowned, his brows drawing together. His inhalations quickened, becoming labored. Sweat beaded over his upper lip, and the color drained from his cheeks. “Arden?” A second later, he issued an agonized grunt. Wounds broke out all over his body, blood leaking from each. The scar I’d seen on his abdomen? It gaped open.

  “What happened? What’s wrong?” I rushed to him, flinging my arm around his waist just as his knees buckled. Acting as his crutch, I dragged him to the bed, and he toppled onto the mattress.

  “I don’t understand,” he said between labored breaths. “I should be in the field with . . . with . . .” Misery contorted his features.

  “It will be okay, it will be okay.” I rushed to the bathroom to gather the first aid kit, then rushed back to his side. After I cut away his new clothing, I tended to his wounds, cleaning and administering the proper medications. I explained everything I’d learned to the best of my ability.

  As his physical pain dulled, he should have relaxed. He only grew more agitated. “I must have healed when Astan inhabited me, then returned to my injured state when he left.”

  Goodness gracious, some of the wounds were deep. The curative gels and sealants I applied would aid in his recovery, but would they work fast enough? “You don’t need him to thrive or even survive. Soal will send a conduit.” I would make sure of it. “Or I will be a conduit.” Yes, yes.

  Domino! I shouted his name across our bond.

  No response came, and I gulped. He’d said the bond weakened when I entertained Astan’s thoughts. But I wasn’t. Was I?

  “I love you,” Cyrus croaked, resolved.

  Resolved . . . to die? No, no, no. “I know you do. So listen to me. You will live. Okay? But you can’t host him again. Promise me. We’ll find another way.”

  “I promise.” When I finished tending his injuries, he mumbled, “Stay with me. Need you.”

  Hot air lashed my lungs, a stinging whip I couldn’t escape. I settled in at his side, careful not to jostle him. I luxuriated in his warmth, his scent. His eyelids sank, and he drifted to sleep.

  My mind whirled. Cyrus needed help—a plan essential. Astan would attempt to join with him again, which meant I better read my book. Which meant I must get to the Rock. Which meant I should speak with Domino, who still hadn’t responded.

  I sent another SOS along our connection and waited . . . waited. No return message. I frowned, worry attempting to creep in. Had something happened to him?

  Heart drumming, I eased from Cyrus’s embrace and stood. I’d have to get to the Rock without Domino’s help. If I got caught, I got caught. The payout exceeded the risk.

  I shifted to peer down at his sleeping form, pleasure and heartbreak colliding inside me. If he accepted Astan a second time, he would set off a chain reaction of events leading to our war. I sensed it.

  But I wasn’t going there. Not now. Better to be mission minded.

  Determined, I carefully eased a specific ring from his finger. The one with the skeleton key. I also confiscated some of his other jewelry, checking them out before I donned them. Another ring, filled with a fine, white powder. Probably a sedative, maybe a toxin. An array of metal wristbands that opened and locked into daggers when shaken.

  Deep breath in. Out. With a final glance at the man who had changed the trajectory of my life, teaching me to see past fear and fight for what I wanted, I tiptoed to the door. Now it was my turn to help him. And I would. Determination turned my bones to steel. I wouldn’t fail.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I will do what I say, and nothing and no one can stop me.

  —The Book of Soal 1.24.1.12

  There was only one way to reach my destination alive: with unflinching confidence. No hesitation. No backing down. Anything else would set off alarms.

  Head high, I opened the suite door and marched into the hall as if I had somewhere important to be, because I’d been summoned by someone important. Honestly, I had. In Soal’s welcome letter to me, he’d instructed me to read my books. So. A summons. By a god.

  The guards were gone, replaced by the meta. 999 again. It walked at my side, its steps smooth and light despite its significant weight.

  “Lead me to the temple,” I demanded. The Rock was on the way.

  The creature accelerated, pulling ahead.

  “I’m gonna call you Nine,” I muttered.

  It provided zero feedback, robot-dog speak for don’t care.

  As we traveled the corridors, I removed my weapon of choice. Two bracelets I would shake into daggers at the right moment. If I could shred the meta’s circuits, it couldn’t follow me into the rift room.

  My heart thundered harder with every hallway closer. I hoped Domino’s fog would sweep toward us, confusing my metal companion. Alas.

  I held my breath as we rounded the final corner. Two armed guards waited at every door. Eight in total. Very well. I cobbled together a plan. Rip out Nine’s wires, blow powder at everyone else.

  Someone exited the temple beyond the hallway and strode in our direction. My spirit sank. Mr. Vyle. He wore a pristine, tailored suit and whistled under his breath, nothing like his blood-splattered future version.

  My skin flushed hot with fury at the reminder. This man, this executioner, had sat, utterly unmoved, as Domino swung from the rafters toes up, bleeding to death.

  Mr. Vyle’s gaze lit on me, and his gait slowed. Clearly he intended to have a conversation. I performed a quick calculation. If I proceeded full steam ahead, all of CURED would learn of my allegiance to Soal. Cyrus already knew, which meant Astan must know, though so far he’d chosen not to reveal it. Which didn’t seem like the god’s MO. Maybe he couldn’t tell? But also, maybe he could. Either way, if I did this, I would be labeled a worldswide traitor, and rightfully so. I’d be hunted. If I managed to survive the ensuing battle with the executioner, of course. And there would be a battle.

  If I didn’t fight to reach Soal, Cyrus would wake up before I read my book and received instruction. Astan would seek a bond before I had a chance to help him. All could be lost.

  Very well. So be it. Today, I stopped hiding. For Cyrus, I would do anything, even this.

  Nine slowed and moved to the side, offering me a straight shot to Mr. Vyle.

  “Hello, Lady Roosa.” The executioner adjusted his wrist cuff. “Might I inquire why you’re visiting the temple without Emperor Cyrus?”

  Well, well. Mr. Vyle already considered Cyrus his leader.

  “You may do so, yes.” Forget starting my opening strike with Nine. Mr. Vyle was the bigger threat. For all I knew, Cyrus had commanded the dog not to harm me for any reason. “I politely decline to answer.”

  A flash of surprise crossed Mr. Vyle’s face. My cue. As Cyrus taught me, if battle is inevitable, strike first, strike hard, and strike fast. Up first, taking out as many opponents as possible.

  I launched into action, sweeping the jewel of a ring aside and spinning, blowing powder in every direction. Multiple guards collapsed. Mr. Vyle stumbled several steps, but he didn’t fall.

  With a flick of my wrists, the bracelets clicked into blades. I lunged and slashed. Contact. The tip sliced through the midsection of a guard, Mr. Vyle, then another guard. The soldiers crumbled, clutching gushing wounds, but again Mr. Vyle remained on his feet. His wound bled for a moment, but the flow ceased within seconds.

  He drew back his arm, intending to punch me. A growling Nine jumped between us. Good boy.

  Mr. Vyle paused. Comprehension lit his eyes a split second before his entire countenance changed. His features sharpened, and his pupils slitted with a glowing golden outline. Smoke curled from his nostrils, and black claws grew from his nail beds.

  “Soalian,” he hissed, revealing a forked tongue.

  Nine attacked, but Vyle shredded the metal beast in seconds. Realization and horror collided. Vyle hosted Bala, Astan’s pet.

  With an inhuman roar, he launched at me. We slammed together, flying to the floor. Impact shoved air from my lungs. Pain and dizziness welled, but they dulled in a storm of adrenaline.

  When Vyle swung a hard fist at my face, I rolled to the side. More stings flared and dulled as I twisted and kicked, punting him in the nose. Cartilage snapped, and blood spurted.

  I clambered to my feet, and new guards swooped in, imprisoning me. Fingers pulled my hair, squeezed my biceps, and shackled my wrists.

  Through some miracle, I fought free and dove for the door to the rift room. But Vyle spun in front of it and slapped me, raking thick, black claws across my cheek. Searing agony, faltering vision. He kicked and I flew into a wall, cracking stone. My brain rattled against my skull, and my lungs emptied again. Dizziness roared back in a thunderous whirlwind as adrenaline dwindled. How much longer could I hold him off?

  As long as it takes. I was Soalian. I could do anything.

  A sudden, unexpected tide of strength swept through my limbs, flowing from my bond to Domino. Power up, baby! I recovered quickly, stopping a subsequent strike. But Vyle was faster and stronger than feeders. It wasn’t long before his fist collided with my forearm, shattering bone.

  Agony not even my bond to the librarian could dull. Black dots winked through my vision. Vomit readied.

  Vyle drew back his elbow to deliver another strike. I moved to parry when a scowling robed man ghosted through him.

  Domino whooshed inside me. Click. Instantly healed and running on pure, undiluted octane, I shot off like a rocket, attacking everyone within reach with a skill I’d never learned.

  Unlike before, when I jumped between bodies, we remained connected, the librarian’s mind open to me and mine to him. Vyle must have sensed his presence; he backed off, giving the guards a chance to subdue us.