Page 10 of Court of Wolves

“That’s disappointing,” he sighed. “If you can’t do it, there are other ways to achieve the same feat. Life magic and death magic are equally capable of mass destruction.”

Maia jolted, her breathing escalating.“No.”

“If you remain stubborn, maybe the Wolven Lord will be more amenable. He hasn’t embraced his saint magic like you have, but I’m sure there’s a way to bring it out of him. Ismene has a man she calls on for this sort of thing. Etziel is his name, I believe.”

Rage and power exploded from Maia. She shone as bright as a star, lunging at Enryr with enough magic to end him. She saw the bright streak of his soul, charcoal where everyone else burned as silver as the moon, and she reached into it, pouring her fury and violence and fear.

Enryr laughed. “Atta girl. Now turn that on the city, and you have my word I won’t raise a hand to the forsaken saint.”

Maia’s nostrils flared, driving her power into his soul like a battering ram, crushing out whatever pathetic bit of life was keeping him intact and—it wasn’t working. He was smiling. Laughing. Brown eyes gleaming like she’d given him a prize.

Maia backed up, her skin crawling, wings folding tight to her body, blackened all the way through. She was too easily provoked, the iron poisoning her soul. How long did she have until it killed her? If the only thing she could do before it took her was buy Az safety, she’d do it.

“Etziel goes nowhere near himor any of them,”she growled, her voice deep and full, casting across the grass and sky. She hoped every dark saint heard her demands. “You leave my mates alone. All of them. Swear it.”

Now he ground his teeth. He might have been a saint but he’d once been a faerie; they all had, according to the old lore. He was as bound by a vow as any fae. “Fine,” he spat, the true nastiness that lived in his soul on display as he sneered, a black sort of violence in his eyes when he glared. “You have my vow that Etziel will go nowhere near any of your mates, and I will not hurt any of them.”

Good. She could breathe again. Maia dragged air into her lungs, furious and terrified and trembling. She knew what came next. What she’d have to do to uphold her end of the bargain.

Enryr straightened the lapels of his brocade jacket and rose as much as he could, wiping away the rage and that slight flash of unease she now wondered if she’d imagined. “Now,” he saidgrandly, sweeping his arm at Eosantha, “this test is twofold. First—and this will be almost effortless for you—reach out and grasp every last soul in the city.”

Maia jolted like she’d been struck. “I can’t—”

“Oh, but you can. You have no choice.”

She had no cuff, no indenture like her other mates. She hoped he was lying about that, hoped the dark saints hadn’t really found a way to control fae as well as beastkind. Like they’d cuffed Bryon. His magic had been cut off and that was bad enough, but if her mates were shocked with excruciating pain whenever they dared to disobey, like beastkind were put in agony if they did the same… Maia didn’t think she could cope with that.

And Enryr was right. She had no choice. He didn’t need pewter to control her; he had her mates, and knew she’d do anything to protect them.

She took a slow, shuddering breath, trying to shut out memories both good and bad. They were equally torturous: all the times she’d snared people at Ismene’s command, everyone she’d ever hurt, twisted, broken… and every moment spent with her mates, every hug and kiss and soft-spoken word, every smile aimed her way, every casual touch that fed her affection-starved soul. She needed clarity right now, needed to focus on the bright silver glow of people in the city before them. So she emptied her mind.

“Good,” Enryr praised as if he was attuned to her magic, as if he couldfeelit. She shuddered. “Reach for all of them, let your magic move through every soul.”

Maia swallowed bitterness and bile and did just that, lifting her glowing hand in front of her, stretching her power out to the citizens of Eosantha. She flowed through families, through lovers wending through a well-tended garden, through enemies raising their fists in the middle of a bright market, feuding overa woman. She was everywhere, in everyone. Those with magic sensed her but welcomed the warmth of her power. They didn’t sense a threat.

“Now snare them,” Enryr murmured, his voice low and coaxing, closer to her ear. Maia shuddered, hatred for him, for herself poisoning her like toxins. “Hold onto their souls and convince them to kill themselves.”

She recoiled with a sharp breath. “What?”

Thatwas the second part of his test. He never planned to kill them himself, he meant for Maia to do it.

“You heard me.”

“Who?”

Enryr paused, letting the anticipation, the torture, build.“Everyone.”

Maia’s stomach roiled; she choked down acid, forced back bile and revulsion. “There are children in that city. Elderly. Babies.Helplesspeople. They don’t need to die.”

“Ah.” Enryr moved out of her personal space, but Maia still failed to choke down a breath.

What he was asking… it wouldn’t just make her a monster. She’d be an abomination. A whole city wiped out. A whole population, murdered. The part that made her want to throw up was she could do it. All this magic in her core, shuddering through the glade of her soul, lighting up the trunks of those trees… she could do exactly what he was asking. Ordering.

“You’re right,” the saint said, and Maia finally drew air into her lungs. “The helpless won’t be able to end their own miserable lives. Best to adjust the wording of your song. That’s what you call this magic now, isn’t it? Snaresong. When I last walked this earth, we called them Ranaszha.”

“Hook,” Maia whispered.

“You know your languages,” Enryr said with pleasure. “Probably all that reading you did in the Library of Vennh,hmm? What a shame it perished.” His hand fell on her shoulder, fingers digging into her skin until her bones quailed and ached, an unbearable pressure in her chest. “Snare them. Sing your song until everyone in the city is dead, or I will find a way around this vow and exact my fury on your mates. I have to commend your taste, Iron Dove. Suchprettymen you’ve chosen.”

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