Page 29 of Slayer

Me.

“You don’t own me. Even with you gone, if the king wants me alive then he’d be a fool to come take me from here. You are just a placeholder, just another pawn in his game. Blood isn’t always thicker than water, love,” I say.

His laugh is cruel. “Do I not own you, darling?” He leans forward against the desk, finally facing me fully. “I’ve owned you since you were a child. Letting you roam free for a while didn’t change that.”

His tone is maddeningly casual. “I know where you are at all times,” he continues. “Who you’re with. Who you kill.” His lips twitch. “Your little lair. Even that tiny, sad excuse for a house you call home up in the mountains.” He pauses, holding my gaze.

Then he says it. “Zorren.” The name hits harder than anything. He waits for me to show any sign of weakness, but I don’t move. “He was the perfect one to deliver the blood mark. The one you care for the most. If only his name was written. I would have loved to see you unravel more than you already have.”

Anger blazes through me like wildfire.

“There it is,” Silas croons. “That storm in your eyes.” His smile widens. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find him? That I wouldn’t know he was one of the little boys who slipped away that night?” My hands curl at my sides.

“He should have died with the rest of them,” Silas continues lightly. “You may have killed your mentor, thinking you drowned every secret in his blood, but I remember everything. Right down to how many were there. And there was one body missing.”

He chuckles, pleased with himself. “It was one of my best games. One my brother happily played a hand in.”

I let him talk. Let his voice poison the air while I catalog the room, the distance, the angles, how high the ceilings are, deciding exactly how I’m going to end him.

“You can’t be a mother,” he adds, tilting his head. “So you found yourself a sad little boy to play mommy with.”

That’s enough. I move before the last word even settles. Being a mother isn’t something I ever wanted for myself, but to have the choice taken from you without any say in the matter is one of the most heart-wrenching things that can be done to a woman.

Maddoc’s sword flashes into my hand, catching the firelight as I draw it from behind me. My cloak falls away in one smooth, feline motion, pooling at my feet. The blade flares silver, bright enough to steal Silas’s vision for a single, perfect heartbeat.

He whips a sword from beneath his desk. It sings as it clears the sheath. The clash is immediate, steel on steel, the sound sharp and violent as it rings through the chamber.

“Ah.” Silas’s eyes flick to the blade in my hand. “You found my little gift. The weak boy’s sword.” He lunges, aiming to knock me off balance with brute force, but I pivot and deflect, the impact rattling up my arm as I parry the blow.

“Now you’re here for revenge in his name,” he taunts, circling. “But what of your name?” I don’t answer. His words don’t find purchase. They never will again.

I shift my stance, letting Maddoc’s sword stay heavy and grounded in my left hand as my right slips to my belt. Maddoc’s dagger slides free, cool and familiar against my palm. Wielding both of these blades is like a piece of Maddoc is fighting right beside me.

“We both know, darling,” Silas says smugly, “that that blade is far too heavy for you.”

“Just shut up,” I snap. “All you ever do is run your fucking mouth.” I close the distance between us in a heartbeat and smash the hilt of my dagger into his cheek. Bone cracks.

Silas goes down hard, stumbling back as his hand flies to his face. Blood beads between his fingers, spilling down his jaw and dripping onto the stone. This isn’t like him to allow such an easy hit to the head. What is he playing at?

“Ah,” I murmur, looking down at him like he’s nothing. “There it is. My favorite color.” I laugh softly. “You know when I love it most?” I tilt my head. “When it’s dark. That’s when I’ll know your sad, worthless life is about to end.”

I step forward and drive my boot into his gut. He grunts in pain, but when I pull back, his hand snaps out and clamps around my ankle. The world tilts violently as he yanks, hurling me to the stone floor. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs in a sudden, brutal rush.

Before I can roll away, he quickly straddles me. His weight pins me down hard, crushing the air from my chest. He’s all muscle, solid, unrelenting, heavy as iron. My body screams to be set free.

“Do you really think you can take me, darling?” he sneers. “Remember what I told you?” Pain explodes across my cheek as he backhands me, my head snapping to the side. My ears ring, sharp and disorienting.

“I told you,” he continues, “that if you ever tried to kill me, I’d make you feel things you couldn’t even imagine.”

I thrash beneath him, cycling through every move I’ve ever learned, using angles, leverage, pressure, but nothing budges him, because he knows every single move before I can make it. Panic claws up my spine, that old, hated sensation of being trapped, of losing control.

For a split second, instinct screams at me to shift.

If he discovers what I am, he won’t just kill me. He’ll hand me to the king for him to do disgusting experiments on me for his own pleasure. I refuse to become a page in that cursed journal of his. I clamp down hard on my power, bury it deep, and go still. I wait, summoning impossible patience.

Silas’s hands close around my throat, locking together like an iron cuff.

I claw at his wrists, nails tearing into skin, ripping free pieces of him as I fight for air—but his grip only tightens. My vision fractures, stars bursting at the edges. Darkness creeps in with terrifying speed. Every vein pops under his unyielding pressure.