Page 84 of Of Kings and Thieves

The magic was pouring out of me like a tap suddenly opened at full strength, and I struggled to draw a breath, but I forced myself to keep going. To do Moredanea’s bidding like the obedient puppet she wanted me to be.

I’m so sorry, Magnus.

Magnus crumpled to the floor, his chest barely rising and falling. I glanced at Moredanea, silently begging for mercy, but she only smiled in a twisted curl of her red lips.

My throat burned and vision blurred, but I sang on, the notes ragged. Darkness flickered at the edges of my senses, cold and oily. I tried to push it away, fearing what would happen if I didn’t accomplish my task, but it seeped into my veins like poison.

The final note hung in the air, my voice wavering as the emotional and physical strain bore down on me. Eventually, my legs buckled beneath me, and I crumpled to the floor like Magnus, a prisoner gasping for breath, still clinging to life. But I continued to sing.

A bitter taste rose in my mouth. With each haunting note that left my lips, my own disgust at what I was doing grew stronger, gnawing at the very core of my soul.

Magnus’s breathing grew labored, ragged gasps escaping his cracked, parched lips. His eyes, once full of life, now mirrored the emptiness of despair that threatened to consume me.

“Stop, Samara, please,” Laney begged from somewhere, her voice merely an echo in the back of my mind.

The final note, infused with the darkest depths of my power, rang out through the chamber. As it reverberated off the ancient glyphs etched into the walls, something inside me shifted, twisted, and snapped.

The siren song that once flowed so effortlessly from my lips wavered and died, the once-potent force now a struggling ember barely holding on to life.

My vision clouded, and the last thing I saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was the sight of Magnus’s chest breathing out one last time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The cold seeped into my bones as I lay on the hard bed, the meager blanket doing little to shield me from the icy drafts in the tower room. I had awoken here earlier, groggy and disoriented, with no memory of how I’d arrived. The room was dark, with only the starlight to see by.

On a small table sat a pitcher of water and a piece of hard bread, their presence mocking in their simplicity. I hesitated, throat parched and stomach rumbling painfully, torn between reluctance and desperation. Laney’s face swam before me, her safety unknown, and I cursed under my breath before snatching up the bread and tearing off a chunk. As I chewed the tasteless morsel, I washed it down with a gulp of water, wincing at the chill that settled in my chest.

“Where are you, Laney?” I yelled, my voice echoing against the stone walls. The only response was silence, as if the tower itself was mocking me. Frustrated, I pounded on the heavy door, though I knew the effort would amount to nothing.

I thought of Magnus, wondering if he was still alive.

I hurried to the wall and pried at a crack between the stones until my fingernails throbbed and bled. At last, I worked the ruby ring free from where I’d wedged it for safekeeping. With a deep breath, I slipped the ring onto my finger once again, focusing my thoughts on the bond it created.

Col? Are you there?

For a moment, only silence filled my mind. Then his voice rippled through me, rough with emotion. Samara! His relief was palpable. When I didn’t hear from you… I…

He went silent, but his grief and relief traveled through the bond until I felt them too.

Have you heard any word of Magnus? I asked after a few moments.

Only silence met my question, heavy with meaning. If Magnus had been killed—I refused to think I had killed him—word would have spread. The Harrow would have made quite the spectacle of it. Which meant there was still a chance he lived, for now.

I haven’t heard anything.

Thank fuck, I said, earning a chuckle from Col. I was done thanking the gods for anything. I’m scared for him. And Laney... I have to find a way to get to her.

I know, he soothed, though frustration threaded his words. I was scared for you, you know.

I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t put the ring on sooner. I’ve been in a daze. Quickly, I recounted the events in Moredanea’s chamber.

When I finished, Col asked more questions, and we spent the rest of the evening rehashing everything that had happened. He was incensed at Moredanea’s cruelty but urged me to keep a cool head. Exhaustion eventually drove us to silence. But the bond hummed between us, alive and strong. I found comfort in it as I drifted into uneasy dreams.

* * *

The next afternoon, guards burst through my door and rough hands grabbed my arms, hauling me out the door before I could remove my ring. I cried out in surprise, only to be greeted with stony silence. The guards prodded me along, down the frigid stairs and through echoing corridors. I stumbled along, bewildered, until we reached a small chamber where a metal tub sat full of steaming water.

Without preamble, the guards stripped me bare and pushed me into the water. I hissed as the heat seared my frozen skin. Servants descended and began scrubbing at my body with stiff brushes, paying no mind to my flinches and winces. Their hands were impersonal, their gazes averted.

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