Page 91 of The Coven of Ruin
“Unharmed,” he repeated, his tongue running over his teeth before going black again.
Trista took a deep breath in. “I have another friend, Demurielle. She is betrothed to Prince… I mean, King Roan. I want her to be able to walk away from this safely. He can choose another queen.”
“Done.” He held his palms up in a motion as if he would offer her anything in return for what he wanted, which scared her more than anything else.
“And what do you want from me?” Trista finally asked, the words tasting ill-fated.
His teeth reappeared with a savage and cruel snarl. He placed one hand on the nape of her neck as he leaned into her, his cheek brushing hers in a cool whisper of a caress as he whispered his demands into her ear.
It would cost her.
It would cost hereverything.
When Thel’s breath left her neck, his conditions ringing in her ears, she knew nothing would ever be the same if she accepted. She studied her dying friend and gathered her strength.
“I agree.” The words left her in a breath of acceptance.
If ever she were to give her life up, in whatever form that meant, she would gladly do it to save her friends. She imagined it was the type of courage that Ares spoke of, but all she felt was a different kind of powerlessness.
She expected his mark to come with pain, but when she felt none, she asked, “Do you not seal your pacts in flesh?”
His nails poked into the side of her throat. “No, I like my markings to be deeper than that,” he crooned, his gaze dipping to her lips.
Trista fought the urge to push him away, to claw at his face, to surround herself with any of her magic that would answer to her. But he did not kiss her, instead placing his other hand in hers. She was relieved to feel the flood of her own magic rising, revitalized, until her entire being was encompassed by her familiar violet light.
It reflected against him. And when he finally stepped away from her, it was as if in admiration of her essence. She moved toward Zyana, but he stopped her with an annoyed growl. “The condition was thatIwould heal her.”
Something in the way he said it gave her pause, but it was already done—she had already agreed. Going over the words, she tried to see if there was something else she should have added.
But when Zyana coughed suddenly, sitting upright dazedly, all of it was worth it. She patted her front as if she was unsure of where she was.
“Zy,” Trista breathed, throwing herself in front of the confused witch.
“How?” she groaned, looking between her and Thel, suspicion in her frown.
“I’ll explain later, just—”
A panicked knock sounded from the other side of Thel’s study before the door swung open.
“Spellspire Hold, it has been—” The wild-eyed mage looked at Trista, then Zyana, his mouth shutting with an audible click of his teeth.
Thel appeared to be considering something before he finally said, “Escort them back below. With witchsilver.”
Trista rose to confront him. “What about our bargain?”
“You bargained withthat? For my life?” The look on Zyana’s face was of pure dread and disgust.
Thel waved a hand indifferently. “I said you could leave, witchling, but I didn’t say when.” The glowing orbs were the last thing to disappear. His low murmur of a laugh haunted the room in his wake.
When the mage approached her with a coil of witchsilver, all she could do was let loose a rage-filled scream. But it was Zyana who rose beside her and lunged at him. The mage was so caught off guard that the witch’s fist connected with his chin in an uppercut before a sound even left him.
Groaning, he righted himself and blocked her next hit. He grabbed her roughly, twisting and pulling her into him to snake a thick arm around her neck. Zyana tried elbowing him, but his arm flexed against her throat.
Trista rounded on him, searching for the dagger she had seen at his waist. It took her two tries to tear it off him, and her fingers shook as she pulled it from its sheath.
“Do…it,” Zyana managed to choke out. The mage jerked toward Trista, but she was already plunging the dagger into his side.
Chapter XXXIX
