Page 80 of Claimed

Eira.

I lower the emptied bag. Rowan says nothing as I throw it into the fire. ‘Begin.’

‘I will need your blood and access to the mark, the chamber where the Heartshard Glass broke. And eventually, Eira.’

‘No.’

‘Eventually,’ Rowan repeats. ‘I can’t read the full pattern without the blood it’s using.’

‘She remains where she is until I decide otherwise.’

‘And if keeping her shackled worsens your instability?’

Something brutal and vital flinches inside me. ‘Then I suggest you work quickly.’

She studies me for a long moment. ‘Selphine’s signature on her is layered. There may be memory-work or scent-work. If I cut recklessly, I could harm her.’

The words hit harder than I reveal. ‘Then do not cut recklessly.’

‘Concern, Valentin?’

‘A warning. Damage what belongs to my investigation, and you will wish I had left you to Ciaran instead of bringing you here.’

Her lashes sweep down and her nostrils quiver at the mention of my blood brother’s name. ‘Ah,’ she says. ‘Of course. You are many things, but never an issuer of idle threats. Except it seems when it comes to your human.’

The second blood bag in my hand ruptures, spilling crimson across my fingers. ‘Enough!’

Her gaze drops to it, then rises to my face. ‘You need rest.’

I laugh. And the sound is ugly. ‘You just told me sleep invites Morrighan.’

‘I told you uncontrolled collapse is dangerous. Rest, ritual-bound and guarded, may become necessary.’

I point a bloody finger at her, abstractly noting its fine tremors. I am falling apart. Because of what one maddening slip of a breathtaking human has done to me. Fuck. ‘No more sleep.’

‘That is impossible.’

‘Very little is impossible, I find, if the right pressure is applied.’

‘Arrogance is not a cure.’

‘Neither, apparently, are witches. Perhaps it’s your neck we should be discussing snapping? I can send you home to your Irishman in a box.’

Her eyes flash. At last, some temper. Good.

‘Bring me answers,’ I say, voice low enough to make the wards tremble. ‘Find the poison and what Selphine did to her. Find out why Morrighan can reach me through my own sleep. And find the cure before I decide your usefulness has expired.’

Rowan holds my gaze, pale and unbowed. ‘And Eira?’

The name pulls through me like lethal wire. I let the pause stretch until the air grows sharp. ‘She remains below.’

‘For how long?’

‘Until truth becomes more useful to her than defiance.’

Rowan’s mouth tightens with something that might be pity, which is very nearly unforgivable. ‘Be careful, Valentin. If you make a prison of the only thing keeping you tethered, you may dislike what answers back from the dark.’

I step close enough for her witch-cold power to prickle against my skin. ‘Mildly threatening me in my own Tower requires either courage or stupidity.’