Page 173 of The Stolen Throne
Waving my hand as if wielding a whip—I am not great with whips—a long, supple line of sand rises from the spit of beach closer to them than me. I snap it out toward the two of them, trying to snag it around Cain’s waist, but miss. Not even close. Gritting my teeth, I go again, but no luck.
Reven shoves to his feet, swaying, but jaw tight with determination. “Don’t—”
In a dive worthy of a bird of prey, Bene scoops them both up in eagle’s talons, but a wave of water rises out of the ocean and threatens to take them all under. Cain.
Vos’s hands go up, and the giant wave freezes even as it’s curling over itself. Once it’s solid, he drops to his knees, eyes rolling in the back of his head. But he bought Bene seconds. The Devourer manages to rip the two apart so that Cain is in one talon and the Reverie in the other. Cain’s wall of water drops away with a mighty splash that shatters Vos’s crest of ice in a series of crackling bursts.
Bene throws Cain, with not much care, onto the hill behind us. Sand rises in a plume of dust from the impact. Then he lifts into the air with the Reverie, who still looks like me.
“Meren!” Cain’s bellow from where he landed is all fury and pain, his voice piercing the thunder of the Whirlpool, even this far from him.
Horus, Reven, and I scramble up the hill, skirting rocks, to get to him. He’s visible on the other side, where the land levels out more. Cain lifts his hands, yellow light gleaming, no doubt to throw more water at Bene. I lash out with another sand whip and manage to wrap it around him, pinning his arms to his sides.
“Meren!” He’s still yelling, charging after them. Still under the Reverie’s spell.
I yank my whip, tripping him so that he falls to the ground. Then I’m on my knees in front of him. “I’m here.”
But he doesn’t see me. He still doesn’t see me.
Horus pushes me aside to get in his face, but he doesn’t seem to see him, either.
Reven throws up a swirl of shadows in front of Cain, blocking the Reverie from view. Horus rears back and slaps him. Harder even than I did before. Then takes him by the shoulders, shaking him. “Cain! Wake up.”
My own cry of protest cuts off in my throat as Cain stops fighting and blinks once, slowly. Then again. Then frowns. “Horus?” His mouth only forms the name.
The screeching roar of a monster splits the noise around us. Reven drops the shadows, and we all jerk around to find Bene overhead. The Reverie is growing and twisting and writhing in his grasp, the glamour of pretending to be me falling away to be replaced by something else…to reveal the true monster underneath.
She’s entirely white. Or maybe translucent is a better description, except I can’t see through her skin. It just doesn’t appear solid. She has a long, humanoid body with lanky limbs. Her arms must scrape the ground when she walks, and her fingers are nubs. There are no distinguishable body parts, as if she’s a tube with no definition. And no face. A round head atop her neck, but no face at all. Just…blank.
A shudder racks through me that has nothing to do with being wet and cold. I’ll never unsee that.
“Release me!” I hear a woman’s voice in my head.
Bene flies over us. “Release the amulets and I will not kill you.”
“Kill me?” she laughs. Then suddenly the shapeless, faceless creature transforms, and Bene is holding a woman of astounding beauty with a face and body only a goddess could claim.
Aryd. She’s taking the shape of Bene’s lover, his heartmate. “You would kill your own goddess, Benedornan?”
For a brief second, I hold my breath, because it looks like Bene’s going to succumb. Like he’s going to fly away with her and let her go.
Then Bene draws his lips back over terrible boar’s tusks and razor-sharp teeth in a sneer. “Your glamour does not affect me.”
I’m not sure what he does to her—maybe squeezes her harder—but the Reverie changes shape. Over and over, she cycles between different faces and bodies. Never long enough for me to see who or what she becomes.
“I can kill you and take them,” Bene tells her, voice as uncompromising as his grip. “Or you can give them to me and live.”
“Why are you doing this?” the Reverie asks. Begs, even. “You want to free them. To see our soulbound mates again. I know you do.”
Bene remains silent.
“Please do not take her from me.” The Reverie is truly begging now, raw agony in her words.
I believe her, too, because I know what she’s asking. Obviously, she knew those two amulets were down there, and for whatever reason she couldn’t get to them. Is that why she never leaves the Whirlpool? Not just because she needs water to breathe—the oceans are wide and large, so she could go anywhere—but because her heartmate was down there?
“I must.”
Bene squeezes harder, his talons visibly curling inward.
