Page 10 of The Stolen Throne
“I’m not.” I scramble to find words. “Ever since I’ve been here, my powers have dwindled. They’re practically gone.”
It’s the truth, but I see in his eyes that he doesn’t believe me.
A torrent of shadow rises over me, and everything goes dark and loud, like a sandstorm, before it disappears just as fast, only now we’re standing in my chambers.
Then darkness shoots out from his hands and fills the space between two of the large white columns that lead out onto my balcony. The shadow spreads and grows, smoothing into a parchment-thin barrier until it blocks the view of the night sky and the gardens outside.
He does it again to the next gap between columns. And another. Until every window, every doorway, every single way out is blocked. Then, with a snap of his fingers, those shadows turn clear like the towering glass walls that run the entire outside border of Aryd. The ones that keep out the Devourers.
Not gone, but gone enough that no one other than me will know they are there.
So this is how he’s kept me prisoner. He’s showing me the trick now, which I admit is way more frightening than not being sure.
Why? To make absolutely certain I can’t leave? Or to muffle the sounds of my screams?
“I’m not the monster you think I am. I have people of my own to protect. People important to me. You won’t believe my reasons—not after a lifetime of being fed lies.” He stalks toward me. “So I won’t bother trying to convince you. However, if you want to live, I suggest you stop giving me excuses and do everything I say.”
Behind him, our combined silhouettes are cast by the firelight from the brazier at my back and the glow of Eidolon’s hands. I watch in horror as his shadow on the wall, in silhouette, wraps its hands around my own shadow’s neck.
I can’t feel it. He’s not actually touching me. But it’s like I’m watching what he really wants to do to me play out in shadow.
He’s going to kill me. Get what he wants and then kill me.
A fresh wave of terror is chased by a hotter, more violent surge of anger that ignites every inch of my body. A vicious concoction of emotions.
I will never help him. I will never be his puppet or do anything that would let him gain more power or go after the people I love. Not if I can help it.
If I’m dead anyway…then, screw him.
Eidolon shoves his face close enough to mine that I can smell mint from the iced treat served at my name day celebration on his breath. “Quinten is still out in the hall with your precious servant.”
I understand the threat.
I have a choice: protect her or protect hundreds of innocent lives. My sister, Reven, Cain, the Vanished, and the Wanderers. Thousands when I count the people of Aryd. My people. Maybe even the people in the other five dominions of Nova. They think they’re safe in Mariana, Tropikis, Savanah, Wildernyss, and even the king’s dominion of Tyndra. They’re not.
If I make him a portal, he can go anywhere. If I make him several, he can send his armies wherever he wants.
Giving in to Eidolon puts them all at risk. Every soul in this world.
I stare at the floor, trying not to give in to creeping despair, my heart growing heavier with every passing breath. I know who I have to sacrifice.
I’m sorry, Achlys.
“You will obey me,” he growls.
I close my eyes, and a single name fills my mind as I search for strength to see this through.
Reven.
My Shadowraith. He was supposed to come back for me, but he didn’t make it in time. Or maybe Eidolon got to him already. Either way, I’ll never see him again.
Almost as if Reven answers, a cold breeze unfurls in the room, stirring the sheer curtains that hang between the large, buttressed columns. The prickle that skates over my skin hardens my resolve, and I open my eyes and glare at the king. Maybe if I can get to one of the knives hidden between my mattresses…
“Obey you?” I scoff. “The hells I will.”
5
About Bloody
