'd picked one of the largest bottles I found in the dark chamber, momentarily surprised when I realized all of them were kavaer. And bearing our castle's crest. I didn't linger too long on it, instead opened the bottle, poured the magic I needed inside, sealed it, picked two glasses, and got out in a minutes' matter.

I found Blake already seated near the glass wall, staring out at the storming weather. The rain hit the glass loudly like shards rattling against each others. He kept staring out, not turning to acknowledge my presence as I got into the sitting room. I wondered if he actually heard me coming in, or the gentle sound the glasses did as I placed them on the low table.

Either he did or did not, he kept staring out, stares vague. I didn't risk going through his mind. And so I poured both the glasses, made my way to where he sat, and offered him his share. He blinked then, more than once. He looked beyond tired. Exhausted. Drained to the last bit.

He took his glass, half of it gone in a blink.

I sat in the armchair, well conscious of his eyes, how they followed every movement, how keen they were as I slumped in my seat, head reclined and resting on the top of the backrest. I watched through my lashes as he drank the rest in one go, already refilling. Good—the more he drank, the more the spell I created and polished for weeks would merge within him. It was just a matter of time.

"I wonder," I whispered between the small sips I took, "why you haven't invited me inside after all those weeks.''

He didn't reply, only stared, eyes going up and down again and again as though looking for something he couldn't quite put his finger on. I was at the end of my first glass when he breathed, voice rough and void, "You know why."

Oh, I did as I read his eyes, his thoughts, the slight tensing of his grip on the stem of his glass. It surely didn't make me feel better.

"Was it a success?"

Blake Armedes leaned back in his seat, not a trace of the darkness he usually wore like skin around, and hummed, not bothering with words. I poured myself another share, knowing his eyes traced the throbbing scars as I moved, following them until they vanished beneath the hems of my clothes.

I ran a finger across the one stretching from half my arm to my wrist, a white, stark line years did not erase. "I was fifteen, kept awake through it all. Watched as the heated dagger went in and out, feeling it hit bones."

I could swear I saw the muscle beneath his left eye twitch as he listened.

"Who did it?"

I downed my glass, the liquid cool in my throat. It tingled, it eased my nerves, drowned out the furious pounding of blood in my ears until the cold rushing in my bones minutes ago was no more than a memory.

"The witch.'' He filled both our glasses. "The old man.'' We both took a gulp. "Your former lover. They had healers sealing the wounds as they worked, ripping my muscles to ribbons again and again until not even their magic could keep me from blacking out.''

Blake leaned forward, carefully twirling his glass, the beverage swaying like a dancing galaxy. Drink of Heavens—how ironic and laughable. He looked calm, and more or less drowsed. "You should have gutted them before leaving."

I smiled. "I wouldn't have made it out if I risked it. I battled five gods for thousands of years to come back, I wasn't ready to lose it all for it.''

"I thought you were dead for good.''

"I know.'' Another sip. I rose from my seat, taking each step with a leisured pace until I was leaning against the armchair of his seat, facing the storming world outside these walls. "Do you want to know something?"

Lightning shredded the skies. Thunder rumbled through the lands, the walls, my very bones. So loud, so ferocious the kavaer swayed in my glass. I knew better than to believe it was a natural storm. I craned my neck to the side, peering at him only to find him staring at my face with that uncanny calmness.

"I thought I was about to die for good, too.''

The pattering of the rain on the glass-wall was the only sound filling the room.

"It had been either coming back as a prisoner, or not coming back at all. That's why I had Aedis—not to challenge you. Only to anchor me, to keep me from risking all that I battled through for mere revenge."

Lies. Nothing but instantaneous lies to win him, to keep our alliance strong.

"He'll die in the end, won't he?"

I finished my drink, my empty glass floating out of my hand, landing next to the drained bottle. "It depends,'' I stared down at him, noting how his eyes seemed to go brighter the deeper the spell settled, ''whether you survive or not.''

He discarded his glass, a low rumble growing into a passing laugh. "We both know Lysithea won't make it to the end."

I shrugged, the half-smile all the confirmation he needed from Apocalys's darling. One of his mightiest creations, the bearer of his prophecies, of his plans and future.

"We used to be a team.'' His fingers trailed up and down my forearm. It wasn't a lover's kind of touch. It wasn't feather-light. It was slow. Discovering. "Perhaps we should be that again.''

I didn't push his hand away, didn't make a move to stop him as his touch traced the many scars scissoring my skin. "Perhaps we truly should.'' His hand reached mine, circling as it went from the back of it to my fingers. Then to my leg.

I felt the spell click, fully spread. I could have gone with a stronger dose: he would have been numbed far earlier. But the risk of him finding out was higher than anything I could afford. I still gave it a couple of minutes before asking anything, only to make sure.

No indication that he was aware of what was coursing in his blood.

"I heard whispers, back when I was still captive.'' His eyes barely focused on my face, their red so thin and light it was almost pink. "That you knew the princess.''

He let out a long breath. "I did."

"Is it her face filling your book?"

A heartbeat of silence. "It is.''

I weighed my words, careful in which way to ask to keep him from snapping back to focus. "Is she worth the throne? All the work you're putting to win the war against her?"

Blake closed his eyes, the barely noticeable movement of his fingers on my leg the only evidence he wasn't asleep. "She is…different from all the Armedeses that came before her."

My eyebrows arched. "And how so?"

"She—''He took in another deep breath. "She carried herself differently. Her presence felt and tasted like nothing I've witnessed. She was a better liar than what I'd imagined her to be, too.''

I remained quiet, not knowing what to say. What to make out of this. And so he spoke, and I listened, his words barely loud enough. "She was…she glowed. Not the purity sort of it, not the thing about being an Armedes. There was nothing warm in that glow, nothing gentle.''

Thunder exploded again.

''She glowed with might, with powers that throbbed in every piece of her. She was a weapon only needing to be sharpened.'' Another heavy breath. ''Yes, she is worth all the defenses I'm building.''

His eyes slightly opened, a breath of magic extinguishing all the lights in the room.

"She deserves more, actually. She's growing fast into the skin of the queen her gods worked long on forging. I don't even need my spies to know that.''

"How do you know then?"

His head tilted to the side, unfocused eyes trying to fix my face. "Perhaps it was being around her for a while, or the Armedes roots we share…but I can feel it. In my blood and bones. I can feel her growing. Glowing with that cold, blinding light of hers.''

"It is odd,'' I murmured, "for the heir of Light to be cold."

His lips curved, a bit wicked. "You should know by now, Elayda. Powers are always cold. Brutal. No matter who yields them.''

Brutal—I wasn't so sure. They hadn't felt so when I had him between my hands. Hadn't hummed a word to rip him to shreds.

Many words tingled at the tip of my tongue, the question burning my throat, clawing to be left out. But it was such a dangerous one. I forced it down, chocked on it, and stared at him. At the calm face, the loosened jaws, the unfocused eyes.

He looked a bit more like what I remembered now, when darkness didn't come out of him with each breath, when his eyes didn't feel like burning holes in my soul. He was almost the third-year student I knew.

Pathetic. This was madness. Perhaps Ha-ámej was right, perhaps I was truly forgetting who I was within all the chaos.

But I couldn't control it.

I leaned over, face hovering above his, his eyes still opened but unresponsive. The magic knocked him off. Lightning illuminated the world as I made to lower his eyelids—if ever because the sight of them open and hollow was frightening—when I saw it as the world went white.

As I saw the threads of amber peaking within the red.

Amber. Amber. The hand I brought to my mouth muffled the sound that came out of me enough that Blake didn't wake up. My very heart trembled between my lungs.

Amber amber amber…

I pushed myself away, hand still over mouth. By the time I peaked at him again, it was gone.

I closed his eyes, ran out of the room on wobbling limbs and—

I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to get out. To get far, far away.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't think.

I ran.

I flew to the Sombers despite the rain, the freezing winds—leaped straight out of the tower where I was supposed to keep guard. I knew my legs wouldn't carry me long enough to go down the stairs. Amber amber amber…

I grunted, hands in my hair, gripping it so hard it hurt. I wanted to scream until my lungs hurt. I wanted to shatter something, to loosen the tension suffocating me. I grunted again, the sound more of a growl as I rested near a jutting rock, one hand falling on the rough, cold surface, clutching it until it felt like my bones would snap. It cracked.

Amber.

I should have killed him. I should have killed him. It would have saved me of this whirlwind in my mind. In my soul.

Liar. Murderer.

So weak—I was so weak. All the demons I slaughtered without a second thought. All the lives I'd taken during these two months. All the rage that ate me for months, that haunted me in my sleep. Useless. They quivered—vanished—for nothing but memories.

I had wanted it to be a mistake. I had wanted him to be innocent even if for a scratch of all that he'd done. I wanted to believe that the boy I knew was still there.

I didn't know what I wanted anymore. Didn't know how to get out of this damn mess.

I swore, a wave of magic exploding around me, bleeding with the haze and the mist. Water, cold and heavy, ran through my hair, over my face, my neck, my clothes sticking like skin, weighing on every movement. The rain wasn't enough to douse the rage pulsing in my nerves.

It was so tempting, to set the entire place on fire. To let the hot powers melt everything around me, the rocks, the chains, the skins and bones of the executed prisoners. Perhaps it would melt my weaknesses, too. Perhaps it would make me strong enough to fly back to his room, to bring a sword down on his neck.

Cantelot's last hope.

Would have I cowered if it had been both of us, fighting to death on a battleground?

I pushed myself forward, fighting every piece of me to walk, to move like I had it all under control. I couldn't go back, I couldn't crawl away. I was already chin-deep in all this wreck.

Step after step, mud and blood splattering with the rain. The winds howled, harsh and freed, so mighty they almost pulled the boulders from the earth. Almost pulled me with them. I wouldn't mind it—being tossed in the air, drifting away, feeling the sharp winds against my skin. The burning in my lungs as air became colder the higher I went. Perhaps those winds would realize I was raging, too.

Amber amber amber amber amber…

I walked, half-numbed, eyes taking in the haze that swallowed everything. So thick I couldn't see five steps in front of me. So suffocating.

A minute became many more, more lands stretching in front of me no matter how long I moved. It had rained, albeit lightly, that night after the Norm was wrecked. After Blake had shattered the bit of safety my people still grasped. And those shadows with him, the glowing eyes—Yenes. They'd both been behind so many disasters, so many shed blood.

Liar.

I closed my eyes, hands running through my hair, head tilted high. Water prickled my eyelids, forehead, cheeks, sharp and unceasing.

A weapon.

A queen.

A cold, brutal power.

Little did he know that this mighty princess he spoke off had failed to kill him. That she held him when his guards were at their lowest. A moment. It would have taken only a moment. Just a heartbeat to end it all.

A presence brushed my aura. Many, actually. I halted, peering through the haze and the darkened world, barely making out swaying shapes lying on the ground. Alive.

I knew some of those auras, knew who these guards were.

I sprinted, running so fast that for a brief moment my worries trickled behind me. I breathed deep, air like knives in my throat. Faster. Closer.

The wall of air came to face, four sentinels within it. They saw me, saw how drenched I was, how trembling my legs were. The magic opened, and Carter had been the first to run toward me.

He knew something was off, knew it without needing a drop of magic. He said something as he stared at me, at how I froze. I didn't hear I word.

Amberamberamberamberamber—

How would I tell them? How the hell would I tell them that I could have killed him? That I failed. What would their reaction be?

The world swayed and I had to blink to realize Carter was pulling me into the magic, guiding each step, still asking something. I halted, making him do as much as I blinked another time, a deep, heavy breath coming in and out.

"—is it?"

''I'm fine.'' Such a pitiful lie. A hand fell over the one he had on my arm, brushing it. "I'm fine."

He still held me with every step until the world was silent. Until the wall of air sealed and the howling winds quieted. The rain stopped falling.

Mayra, Rhia, and Luthian had been around me before I could register it. "I'm fine,'' I repeated, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"You don't look fine."

I stepped out of Dier's hold, sweeping stares taking in my family. The many prisoners chained and laying face down in the mud. The severed head piling in one side.

Those kills were supposed to happen tomorrow.

"Why are you here?" I counted thirteen heads already down. "Why aren't you at your post?"

"Change of plan.'' Leyath—Rhiannon—took a step closer, sheathing the dripping daggers at her waist. "The Queen ordered a shift because a heavy load of prisoners will be thrown in the dungeons tonight. Lesser guards are at our posts now." She patted her hands on her sides, wiping the blood all over her impermeable suit.

"The Kyel?"

"At the docks.''

We were supposed to meet at the docks at noon, end the shift, and go looking for information straight after.

I scratched my scalp as I ran my fingers in my hair again and again. "Shit.'' I made to turn toward the still breathing prisoners when she caught me by the shoulder, holding me in place.

She would have lost that hand, would she have been any other person.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing.''

She loosened her grip. I rolled my neck, hoping to loosen the tension crashing my nerves, and stared at Sédil and Veidor who hadn't uttered a word. "Are you going to ask me that, too?"

Luthian didn't shift an inch, eyes hard. Not a word. He knew it wouldn't end well if he pushed at me, knew I was a scrap away from crumbling. But it was Mayra who threw me a blade, who stared me up and down, and said, "If there's nothing wrong, then move. The faster we finish, the sooner we leave this damn place.''

A rock—she'd always been my rock.

I threw the blade aside, the light shirt I had on following, leaving me in a black tank top. I hadn't bothered with the uniform when going for the prince's room, not knowing things would take such a drastic turn.

I was on one of the demons before any of my team could follow, claws out, shredding skin like scissors through silk. Blood splattered to my elbows. My face. My shoulders.

Body after body. Kill after kill. I almost laughed. Would have done so if I were alone. Not a second thought, not a moment of reluctance.

Weak.

The demons were done before what I imagined, the four Windreapers sheathing their weapons, a step behind me as they eyed those who remained. Our people. Captured, beaten, used. Flashes of what I saw with Yesar and Zarès flickered in front of my eyes.

The purple, ripped open skin. The stitches. The babes still in their mothers' wombs. Discarded with nothing more than an order. A waste of space.

It happened once each two weeks: all the unwanted prisoners pulled out of their cell, lined near the Beheaded where we would kill them and throw them into the sea.

The demons were the first to go. The rest, it varied. Those who could heal with time, those who had a place to return to, we faked their death. Pretended, with a quick and clean illusion, that they were killed, before dumping them alive in the sea. A secret, scentless portal carried them to the castle where they would be taken care of.

But those who had no hope in surviving, those who had an agonizing path to endure if we saved them—those had been given a choice. I would slip into their minds, would let them who was at work, let them know they had a choice.

Most of them had chosen death. Too broken, too ruined to survive. No family left.

I hadn't killed any of them. Hadn't lowered a sword down their necks. There had always been someone else to do that, to spare me from that kill. Innocents—I hadn't killed any yet. All the blood, all the deaths, all of them demons. All of them without a shred of regret.

I kneeled next to each prisoner, most of them, especially the younger one, unconscious from what they'd seen, all the heads rolling. Gates opened and sealed, moving over those who had decided to be freed. One by one, until the last one was a carrying woman. The child was utterly clean, and well overdue, most likely kept in her until needed. Such a lucky fate.

I felt her sob as I turned her up, chained hands trying to cover her bump. A child of love. A child not forged in an experiment room. She didn’t know—we didn't tell them, those who were saved until they landed in the castle. She didn't know that a new life awaited her.