Page 57 of Vasmora

His lips pressed together, clearly insulted by my comment. “No other can do vot I do.” He hmphd and pushed to his feet. “Vot you do is not blood magic. I don’t know vot it is.”

I shamelessly studied the metallic half of his face, swimming in the distraction of it. Curious, the way it seemed to have hardened unevenly, as if molten steel had been poured over him. “Did she do that to your face?”

He turned away from me, jaw twitching.

Sighing, I turned away, as well. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It vas an accident.”

I slid my gaze his way again. “Strange. It looks quite intentional to me. In fact, it looks downright cruel. Bears the marks of her work.”

The good half of his lip gnarled with menace. “You shouldn’t b-be so deviant. She does not like that.”

“You’re speaking from experience, aren’t you?” When he didn’t answer, I exhaled a laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know why I bother with–”

“Yes. I vas deviant like you. I tried to steal a svord to kill her. I’m cursed to stare at my poor judgment every time I look in a mirror.”

For the first time, I felt sorry for him. How much hate did he have to swallow, to wind up doing her bidding? “You possess an incredible power,” I offered. “Why have you never attempted to use it against her?”

“My powver binds blood magic. Loyce is zevromyte.”

“She has no magic?” An interesting bit of information. She was strong, but perhaps vulnerable.

He shook his head. “She cannot be killed, either, as I learned var too late.”

“How is that possible?”

Hand waving toward me, he shook his head. “You ask too many questions vor too many ears that might be leestning.”

I lurched closer and took hold of the chain at my ankle. “Remove my binding, and I promise you, I will see to it.” A rush of cold adrenaline washed through me, as I stared back at him, silently pleading.

“See to vot?”

“Her death.” My lips trembled around the word, the fury inside of me unquenchable, but death would ensure she wouldn’t hurt another.

A glint of fascination flickered in his eyes. Perhaps contemplating it.

“I need only touch her, and she would turn to ash.”

His brow flickered, and he glanced toward my hand again. “Then, it’s true. You possess a death glyv.”

“Yes.” I raised my wrist to show the curse seared into my skin. “If you remove the binding, I can set you free.”

He stared a moment longer and his brows pulled tighter. “There is no vay to remove the binding. Besides, I already told you, she cannot die!” On those parting words, he jumped to his feet and exited the cell.

Sighing, I slumped back against the wall behind me. It didn’t seem possible that someone could be truly invincible. Nature had a way of balancing things, and what seemed like a blessing or advantage was often a curse.

Contrary to what everyone seemed to think of the woman, even Loyce had a weakness.

I just needed to find it.

* * *

“Gods please! Make it stop!” Zevander’s voice hammered against my skull, and I winced, desperate to shut out the memory of seeing him strung up on that contraption in the rotunda room. Even if it hadn’t been him, he’d looked real. Real enough that I’d reacted on instinct, attacking that guard. Real enough that I continued to tremble even then, as I sat waiting for my inevitable punishment for having tried to escape.

What other choice did I have? She would’ve kept on with the torment until I broke, or Dravien’s body gave out.

How Zevander had managed to survive her all those years churned a sick hollow in my gut.