Page 132 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

“Aww,” Jessina says, and leans down to draw her hand along Alistair’s jaw where he sways on his knees in front of her. “I love this moment. The moment when they realize that it was all a lie.”

Isera, who was bent over with her palms pressed against the floor, drags in a shuddering breath and looks up at the three dragon shifters before us. And for the first time ever, I see fear in her eyes.

“What?” she gasps out between heavy breaths.

“The Atonement Trials is a lie.” Empress Jessina flashes us a cruel smile. “It was never a way for you to earn your freedom. It is, and always has been, a competition to find the people who have the strongest magic among you. Because that is what we want. Your magic.”

“Yes,” Bane joins in. Reaching down, he gives Isera’s cheek a few patronizing pats that look almost forceful enough to be slaps. Malice shines in his black eyes as he stares her down. “Welcome to your new existence. As our life slaves.”

Alistair tries to pull away as Jessina reaches for him, but it only makes him topple sideways. While trying to push himself back up, he presses out, “What are you talking about?”

Jessina flashes him a smile that is all teeth. “We can feed on your magic, your energy, to live forever.”

My eyes widen as shock crackles through my veins.

“During the war, when we rose up and slaughtered all the dragon riders, we realized that we could collar you with iron and then feed on your magic to boost our own energy. Eventually, we realize that it also kept us from aging.”

“You…” I begin, my tongue stumbling over the word. “You were alive back then? When fae were dragon riders?”

“You mean when we were your slaves?” she snaps, her voice turning vicious. “Yes, we were. Bane and I are the only dragons still alive from those days. But we remember. We remember your cruelty and your entitlement. And now, it’s your turn to suffer.”

“But the previous winners,” Isera blurts out. Panic and fear now pulse unhindered in her eyes. “Where are?—”

“They’re dead.”

Isera jerks back as if Jessina had slapped her.

“It’s one of the unfortunate side effects,” Bane explains with a shrug. “Since we continuously drain your magic and energy atthe same rate all the time, you eventually die. It takes roughly one hundred and fifty years. Which is when we hold a new competition.”

All color has drained from Isera’s face as she stares up at him. “Dead. She’s… dead?”

Bane frowns. “She?” Then realization pulses across his face. “Oh. IseraShaw. Elena Shaw was your mother, wasn’t she?” He chuckles, and then a malicious grin spreads across his mouth. “Elena wasmylife slave. How fitting that I will now be your master too.”

Pain and heartbreak swirl in Isera’s eyes as she stares up at the emperor who now owns her. Next to them, Jessina strokes her hand along Alistair’s jaw again in a highly possessive manner.

Which means that I will be a life slave to…

Turning my head, I stare up at Draven Ryat. The Shadow of Death. Commander of the Dread Legion. One of the three most powerful and dangerous dragon shifters in the world. And now, my master.

My entire soul recoils at the mere thought.

Draven holds my gaze, his eyes once more unreadable as he watches me kneel there before his feet.

I curl my fingers into fists.

It doesn’t matter that he tried to stop me from winning. It doesn’t matter that he tried to prevent this. Or why.

Because at the end of the day, he still went through with it. He still put that iron collar around my neck and drained my magic.

Clenching my jaw, I glare up at him as rage burns through me.

I am not his slave. I will not let him drain my energy while he keeps me collared and kneeling at his feet. I would rather kill myself than spend the rest of my life as his slave.

Or better yet… I would rather killhim.

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