Page 23 of Crown of Darkness
Me.
Or a spell-twisted version of me.
Mother could do it. She has enough of my things, and though I was always careful to burn the hair that collected in my brush or the nails I clipped from my fingers, who knows what she took while I was drugged and unconscious?
It wasn’t enough to steal my fucking memories, now Mother’s trying to stealeverythingaway from me.
“I think it was more than taunting,” Thiago says.
Andraste sighs, the fight leaving her. “Mother had him killed. Every day. And when he would rise, Vi would be standing over him, taunting him with her treachery. Telling him she’s been mother’s tool since the start, planting the seeds of ruin within your court. And then she would kill him again.”
With every death, he’ll lose a little part of himself.
But the things he’ll hold onto…. His protectiveness. His loyalty. His base nature will tell him to protect my husband at all costs, even as he loses the scraps of himself that remember me.
The sheer cruelty of it is stunning.
Guards scream outside. Lysander won’t stop until he finds me, and I know what that means. We either have to kill or contain him, and in this state, containment might be difficult.
“How do we set a trap for him?” I direct the question at Eris and Baylor.
Baylor glances around. “If I can get the chains on him—”
“We need bait.” Eris doesn’t shy away from my gaze as she says it.
“No,” Thiago says coldly. “We’re not using her as bait.”
“It doesn’t have to be me. Can you make me look like her?” I ask, pointing my finger at Andraste.Think beyond your protective masculine instincts.“And make her smell like me?”
“Vi!” Andraste stiffens.
“You chose to bind yourself to an evil, self-serving bitch. It’s not my problem if her plots bite you on the ass.” I return my attention to Thiago. “It will be the scent that gives us away.”
He slowly nods. “I can do it. Maybe.”
Resistance comes from an unexpected quarter. Edain grabs me from behind, hauling me against his chest and putting his knife to my throat. “Twitch a single finger, little princeling, and I’ll cut her throat.”
Ice slithers down my spine. I don’t dare breathe. The knife is sharp enough.
A preternatural stillness leeches through Thiago, and his eyes go flat and dark. Dangerous. “I don’t have to twitch a finger.”
Silence.
Nobody moves.
Outside, an enraged bellow splits the air.
“You’re revealing your hand, Edain,” I whisper. “What’s Mother going to think?”
“Be quiet,” he snaps.
“You’ve been so terribly protective,” I taunt. “Mother will know. She’ll find out, one way or the other, and then what do you think she’ll do?”
Tension slides through him. “I swear I used to like you better when you were memory-wiped.”
It all happens in an instant.
Lysander bursts into the tent, throwing a guard into Eris. She staggers back, thrusting him out of the way, but it’s too late. Claws lash out, and she has to dive aside or lose half her face.
