Page 106 of The Flame King's Queen

As it speaks, it conjures pictures of everything it describes. The horror of what I’m seeing and hearing makes me want to tear out my hair. Through Zabriel, it knows all the worst ways to torture me.

The lich cocks Zabriel’s eyebrow at me. “So, you see you have no choice. Am I convincing you yet? Are you finally beginning to realize that resisting me is a pointless delay?”

I feel a strange prodding at my mind, and I realize it’s the lich. It’s testing my resolve, searching for weakness. A way in.

The lich’s rasping voice grows sweet and alluring. It moves toward me, whispering, “You and I are going to be so happy together. Stop fighting,sha’lenla. You will hear him call you that again if you just let me in.”

The prodding on my mind grows so severe that I take my head in my hands and gasp, squeezing my eyes shut. I won’t give in willingly, and it won’t take me by force either.

If Zabriel opens his eyes and wakes from the nightmare he’s living right now and sees not turquoise and gold, but sickly green magic flickering in my eyes, he will never call mesha’lenla. He will never be able to love me. He’ll fear me and hide our child from me. He’ll rightfully want to kill me.

The lich narrows its eyes and shakes its head. “You are thinking that your mate will be repulsed by you, but you are forgetting how powerful you and I will be together, Isavelle. It is a simple task to persuade someone how they feel. No, persuade is too strong a word.Remindthem how they should feel. I was able to do this with Zenevieve for such a long, long time, and Emmeric was happy. She should have been his in the first place, he told me, but she became distracted by another. I was able to fix that for her. I reminded her who she was truly destined for, not that white-haired bastard, but my pure-hearted prince. She was so grateful to be reminded.”

I picture Zabriel slavishly adoring me because he is forced to by magic, as it seems Zenevieve was made to adore Emmeric, and my stomach rolls.

“Right now you are revolted, but in time you will appreciate everything I am able to do for you. And I will do this for you. Are you getting it yet? I have all the power and you have none. You thought you were safe in that flimsy castle with all your useless little friends and allies, but it was all an illusion. It was just a matter of time before I made my plans afresh and decided that it would be the two of us to rule Maledin. I expected you to feel more flattered,” it adds, with an edge to his voice. “But no matter. Your gratitude can come later. All you have to do is let. Me.In.”

The lich batters at my mind as it speaks through Zabriel’s gritted teeth. I scream and fall to my knees as pain hammers through my skull. It feels like my head is full of clashing swords and wild animals scrabbling at my nerve endings.

The lich shouts over my cries of agony, “Accept what I am offering, and I will release your mate. I know you wish me to end his torment. Or do you need me to attack you? You can pretend I am forcing you if it makes things easier for you now, but I promise that after you accept me, you will feel no remorse ever again. No guilt. No uncertainty. Everything will be so easy once we’re together.”

I cower at its feet, tears streaming down my face. Hopelessness overwhelms me, and I’m sobbing for everyone who will suffer if I can’t find a way to stop this thing.

Zabriel’s booted feet appear before my eyes. Somewhere over my head, the lich says coldly, “You despise feeling this weak. Accept me, and never feel afraid again.”

I shake my head and wipe the tears from my face. “Power is not a game to me. It’s not something to be chased, it is something you must prove you are worthy of. Zabriel taught me that, but you could never understand such a sentiment. You can’t live without power, something that matters less than love and family and friends andhope.”

The lich pulls me up so that I’m standing on legs made from jelly. It shakes me, laughing in my face the whole time. “Family? Friends? Is this where your thoughts go while I am offering you diamonds of eternity and power? You still do not understand who I am.”

Who it is.

Who it is.

Biddy’s dying body flashes before my eyes. I feel her reaching out to me, my crone who always gave me the answers I sought by prodding me, provoking me, and letting me figure things out for myself.

Everything suddenly snaps into place.

For a moment I laugh weakly, almost hysterically, because the answer is so simple. There’s no need to run and hide or to watch everyone die. The only thing I need to do is be a witch.

My face hardens. I take a deep breath, and then I scream up into the lich’s face, “Caraxmorenas, get yourfilthy hands off me.”

The lich yanks its hands back as if my flesh has burned it. It’s not a spell, not yet, but the command does what I need it to do.

It stares at Zabriel’s hands, then up at me, and gasps, “How did you know? No one has spoken that name in a thousand years. I destroyed all the books. I killed all who had learned it. I kept it hidden from most of those I have possessed. Only Emmeric knew it, and I was with him until his end. He never had the chance to tell…never breathed even one letter…” The lich’s confusion fades away, to be replaced by anger.

“The witch,” it seethes. “The witch told you after I released her. She above all others would have known to hunt through my mind. But I thought she was dead.”

I get to my feet and face the lich in Zabriel’s towering form. “She was not quite dead, and she used her last breath to tell me—the witch of the only coven she ever knew, thanks to you and your disgusting witchfinders—what your name is.”

Rage fills me from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. Rage for Biddy and the lonely life she lived when she should have been surrounded by her fellow witches. Rage for Ravenna, for whom other people always meant danger, and who is still afraid now because her mate is a monster made by this thing before me. Rage for Zenevieve and the pain and despair she’s suffered because she dared to love another.

All my rage has gathered inside me, and I’m the one making it cower now. I’m the one sparking fear in its soul.

Because I know its name.

“Caraxmorenas, release my mate. Release his dragon.” I speak the words of the command spell that I found in Master Gaun’s Magical Archive, adding the lich’s name to every line. The undead part of Zabriel, the scrap of soul possessing him, becomes a blurry green outline around his body. My mate’s eyes flicker from green to red and back again. I speak the spell faster, louder, screaming the necromancer’s name, using more magic than I ever have in my life. I feel it coursing through me, turning my words into weapons.

The necromancer is forced from Zabriel’s and Scourge’s bodies and becomes a fluttering scrap of green light. My mate’s eyes turn to red and his face drains of color as he reaches for me, and then he slumps to the ground. I’m concentrating so hard on the spell that I’m sweating, but I dare to flick a few glances at Zabriel. I can’t tell if he’s dead or just passed out. Far above us, Scourge groans deep in his chest and his head is slumped forward. He’s been weakened and sickened by the lich’s possession.

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