Page 75 of Court of Wolves

“Spiteful—” he spat in her face. “Little. Bitch.”

“Andproud,”she snarled, fighting to keep her grip on his arms as Bryon sank his stolen knife into Enryr’s back and dragged itdown,opening a wound so long that blood deluged across the pale stone under them.

Enryr wavered. Hope was like a disease making Maia weightless. She should have known better. In the next second, the power squeezing her chest exploded, crushing her brain in her skull, making her bones creak, so potent that she had to squeeze her eyes shut for fear they’d explode.

Bryon growled, but it was a sound of pain, not anger, and Maia lost her concentration. Enryr’s arms were free before she could trap them. His hand snapped shut around her throat, his nostrils flaring, hatred blackening his eyes, his vile smile.

“Oh, all the things I’m going to do to you, dove,” he laughed, sickening and low. “You vowed for your mates’ safety when you should have bargained for yours.”

The hand tightened around her throat, crushing in a way that had panic spearing her chest, muddying her mind. He was choking her, cutting off her ability to sing… on purpose, or bycomplete coincidence? Had she rattled him by trying to break his bones with her snaresong?

She parted her lips again, forcing out a breathless puff of sound, and watched true, rotten hatred twist his features into something ugly. But why would he be afraid of snaresong when her magic was bound, trapped inside her?

Maia dropped into her core of magic so fast her head spun, diving through layers of her power, past vibrant spring, life itself, and bright, gentle souls, to her first power—her ability to twist minds with a simple vibration of magic and sound. And she wondered if Enryr presumed she needed to sing aloud to cast that power through someone’s skull, through shields of magic, into their soft, vulnerable brain. It helped, and she was always strongest when she could sing out loud, but she didn’t need it.

She gathered up a fistful of magic, and then pulled more, andmore.She’d need everything if this was going to work. It shouldn’t work; it couldn’t. She’d tried for days,weeks,to summon her power, and every time it was like a hand pressed over her mouth suffocating her ability. But Bryon had made Enryr bleed, and Sephanae said it had to benowand—

Blinding, obliterating pain cut through her chest, so sudden and excruciating that Maia fell back, her legs collapsing under her. She thought it was Enryr, thought the saint’s magic had struck her, waskillingher, but the pain came fromwithinher. It ripped her apart, digging through her soul until the glade at the heart of her howled with a sudden roar of wind. True, unadulterated pain sank into tree roots until her nerves lit up white and hot.

A roar sounded but Maia was barely aware of it, all her consciousness trapped in her soul, screaming. Or maybe she was screaming in her body, too.Who was hurt?She searched the trees, frantic to find the black-oozing trunk that had led her to Azrail, but this was so much worse. The pain waseverywhere,in every part of her, slicing through her shoulders and down her back until her wings shook. It felt like being crucified all over again, and that thought made her soul go very, suddenly still.

Who?

She searched, shaking with rage, her breathing quickening in her body.

Kheir. Someone was torturing Kheir.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Lord Justice.The air drake’s voice echoed through Ark’s mind, the title settling into him with a sense of rightness. The saint whose power had been gifted to him was the Lady Justice, the deity of justice, trials, and wisdom. This new title settled over Ark with the weight of a cloak, both comforting and worrying in its responsibility. A flash of that magic, the uncannyknowing,told him too many threads of fate were interwoven right now. It was impossible even for Ustinya to guide him to a successful path.

Which meant this would either work or fail spectacularly. Fuck. But they’d committed to the path now, and when Kheir pushed the needle deeper into the bronze skin of his collarbone and flexed his hands, flame leaping to the tips of his fingers—redflame—it was too late to stop now.

Shit, Ark thought Kheir would use the black fire of hatred, or even the yellow of friendship to force Vawn to help, but rich, ruby red danced in his hand as he threw himself at Vawn’s exposed back, likely exposed on purpose. Ark was struck stupid for a moment before he shook himself out of it and surged after Kheir, anticipating a fight.

But the moment Kheir’s fingers made contact with the back of Vawn’s neck, instead of passionate violence erupting from the tall, brunette man, a deep moan filled the empty corridor.

Vawn spun, his eyes wide, pupils dilated. “What the fuck are you doing?”

But Kheir was already surging forward, closing his hand around Vawn’s throat, making contact with every one of his fiery fingers, the flames licking higher, ruby burning brighter. Vawn’s nostrils flared, his eyes rolling into his head, and—he collapsed to the floor with another moan, unconscious.

“How the hell—” Ark began. That had happened too fast for his head to keep up. “You knocked him out with passion?”

“I think,” Kheir said with a rough laugh, turning to Ark with a similar shell-shocked expression, “this magic would be fun to use on our mate.”

Understanding dawned and Ark laughed. He’d inflicted so much pleasure on Vawn that the man passed out? That explained the rolling eyes and the moaning. And it was far more humane than inflicting pain.

Ark crouched beside Vawn to check his pulse, finding it strong and steady. “Nice job,” he told Kheir, rising to his feet again, straightening as he searched for a weapon. The best he found was a candlestick on a side table, so he snatched it up, scanning the long hall on either side of them.

“It feels wrong to just leave him here,” Kheir said, his hand still aflame, held out in front of him like its own weapon. “But we need to find Maia and the others.”

Ark nodded, sinking into the warmth of his soul where his bond to Maia lived, wishing he could close his eyes to focus on the sensation. But they were out in the open and the saints could find them at any moment. Instead he pushed his soul outward, searching for her, breathing through his nose to keep his composure even if he grew frantic.

“This way,” Kheir said, grabbing Ark’s arm at the same moment he got a tingling sense in his soul. Now would be a great time to get some of that uncanny knowledge from Ustinya, but his intuition was quiet. He rushed with Kheir down the hallway, ignoring the guilt that gnawed on his chest at leaving Vawn collapsed on the carpet.

“She’s closer than she felt before,” Kheir said as they broke into a run, hope making his voice breathy.

Ark nodded, most of his attention on that place where Maia’s soul flowed into his. He caught glimmers of emotions if he focused hard enough—frustration and hatred, panic and fear, and a dull, constant pain below them all. He was so focused on that pain, different to the hurt he’d felt from her before but every bit as worrying. He stopped paying attention to his surroundings for no longer than a moment, but it was enough.

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