Page 47 of Too Dangerous To Die

I stand in that chamber a moment longer, staring at the shrine like it might blink first. My pulse throbs in my throat. The air is cold now, colder than it should be, like the memory of their presence is enough to drain the warmth from this place.

A plan begins to take shape.

A reckless one. A dangerous one.

But it’s the only way.

If the Wraithborn believe the pact still holds, then Nora’s not just marked. She’sclaimed. And if I don’t sever that bond, they’ll tear her apart trying to reclaim what they believe is theirs.

And if she remembers why she made that pact in the first place…?

She might let them.

No. I won’t allow it.

She’s changing, unraveling by inches. I notice it in the flicker of her eyes and as her magic lurches toward violence now instead of healing. In the way she looked at that beast today—not with fear, but with hunger.

Should I tell her?

If I do, it’ll drive her closer to them.

And if that happens… I might lose her to the very war she helped end.

But what if I have no choice but to tell her?

I press a hand to the wall one last time, whispering an ancient phrase I haven’t said in centuries. It’s a prayer. Or maybe a curse.

Then I turn and walk back through the silence, planning the next steps.

I’ll have to find the root of the blood pact. Sever it. Destroy the sigil. Break the chain that ties her to the Wraithborn once and for all.

Even if it kills me, orher.

21

NORA

By the time Rhaegar returns from wherever he disappeared to, the sun has begun to set. The sky bleeds orange and bruised purple, casting long shadows across the crumbling edges of the forgotten city. A storm brews on the horizon—slow and ominous, like the pressure before a scream.

He doesn’t look at me.

I don’t look away.

He brushes past me with a barely contained energy that crackles at his edges, his jaw clenched, eyes dark with something I can’t name. But I feel it. It dances along my skin like lightning, electric and unwelcome.

My fists tighten. “Where were you?”

He doesn’t answer.

Typical.

I rise from where I’ve been sitting on a cracked pillar and stalk after him, fury rising like bile. “You vanish. Again. And when you come back, I canfeelsomething has changed, your magic is different. You are different.”

Still, silence.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I snap, rounding on him. “You’ve been hiding things from the beginning—dragging me deeper into this cursed wasteland while I unravel piece by piece, and you still refuse to tell me the truth!”

He stops, then turns.

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