I turn away as his words break something inside me, shattering the part of me that cared for him.
Hatefulness and spite grip my tongue, but I cannot speak. Instead, I try to compel kindness.
“Gabriel, let me go.”
“Let you go?” Anger flares from his tone as he continues. “You just confessed to wanting to murder my leader. I would sooner let a lion free in the city.”
“Roland is dead!”
“And you—” he grabs my chin and brings my face toward his, “—aren’t. I can never let you go. You are here to stay and give my people magic.”
“I would sooner rip my heart out.”
It’s an empty threat. Kyanites don’t kill themselves. They believe they will have no afterlife if they do.
But he probably doesn’t know that.
His brow rises at the vehemence behind my statement. “Ah … there’s the anger I expected from a Kyanite. I must admit, you almost fooled me into believing you were a simple woman. But you’re not. You’re a tiger who tries to act like a cat.”
Breathe.
Relax.
You can think your way out of this.
“How am I to give them magic?”
“In the cave of reflection.”
My breath hitches. I have heard of the cave of reflection and how it can help people obtain their missing powers. But you must have a source to pull your gifts from.
Surely, it’s not me.
It cannot be me.
“I won’t go with you.” I lift my chin, staring him straight in the eyes, defying him in a way I have never dared to before.
“You will do whatever I say.”
A hoarse laugh escapes me. “You will find me a very unwilling participant.”
“If I tell my people the reason you came here, they will annihilate you. So, if I were you, I would listen to me.”
“Tell them. I prefer death over giving even one Bloodstone magic.”
He jerks me around until my back is facing him and pins my hands together. I wince as he tightens his grip and walks me from the room.
Silence weighs heavy as he guides me into the main room and finds my dagger sitting on the table.
“What are you going to do, stab me?” I ask, my words like ice.
“No.” With one hand, he keeps me pinned. With the other, he yanks at the hilt enough to loosen it and reveal a red stone fused to the edge of the blade.
I gasp. It’s bloodstone. The very stone the gods took from them.
“I don’t understand.” Something binds my gaze to that weapon, to that stone, to that horror. “How do you have that, and why did you put it on my dagger?”
“So, you could use magic.”
