A feral smile worked its way across my lips. If the prince died, I’d welcome any punishment. “Fine. Works for me.”
Olivian hesitated, thrown by my agreement. Around us, shadows coalesced to threatening dark pools. Ghostly shapes oozed at the periphery of my vision. Something with a dozen too many legs skittered along the baseboards.
My stomach quivered. We needed to chain up, but this toxic pissing contest seemed more important than the demonic energy piling in the hallway.
At least to me. Maybe not to Olivian—his focus jumped to something past my shoulder. Something I knew wasn’t actually there.
“You again.” He paled. “Haven’t I told you to leave me be?”
I grinned. “Time to go,” I said, sing-song.
Olivian turned to me with wild eyes, then rushed off.
My smile fell from my lips like it had dropped dead. I tried to hurry back the way I’d come, but thunder rippled, buckling my knees. I flung out a hand to steady myself, but the wallpaper turned sticky beneath my touch, sucking at my fingertips like a hungry mouth. I yanked myself away, my stomach roiling.
More thunder ruptured the air. This time, the sconce-lights ran together, and when they resolidified, the hallway curved downward instead of running straight.
I broke into a run, ignoring the illusory warp of physics long enough to reach my chamber and throw myself inside. I crossed the room with desperate strides. At a twitch of the latch, my balcony doors burst inward with such force they cracked against the wallpaper.
Salt-soaked wind poured in. I breathed deep and angled a shoulder into the gale.
Out on my balcony, the world heaved, a tornadic whirl of wind and darkness. To my left, the swamp pulsed like a glowing bruise. To my right, the road snaked toward town and the sea.But the storm eclipsed all that. I craned my head back, then back some more.
Indigo clouds hung in the sky like a gruesome planet on the verge of collision. Hellish lightning crackled within. The storm’s stench singed my nostrils, like someone had blown out a match and shoved it up my nose, still sizzling.
My heart shriveled. A thousand times, I’d wished the prince dead, hoping Zephyrine might somehow hear me. I’d even whispered to my dagger, despite knowing its magic didn’t work that way, but maybe my pleas had accomplished more than I’d realized. Maybe I’d called this behemoth to life without even meaning to.
Goddess, as much as I’d wanted Kyven gone, I hadn’t meant forthisto be the price.
No help for it now, though, so I wrenched my gaze downward. A sleek black carriage hurtled up the road, gravel churning beneath its wheels.
The prince.
My hands curled around the balcony railing as the storm intensified. Its roar burrowed into my brain, coaxing phantom whispers to life.
Amryssa will tire of you soon. She’ll leave you. The only thing you’re good for is walking away from.
I saluted the storm with a middle finger and forced the offending thoughts aside. Gripping my dagger, I whispered to the carriage. “Crash,” I commanded. “Tip over. Just don’t beat the storm.”
Energy prickled against my hand, but fizzled out within moments. The carriage continued onward.
I bit back a curse. The prince was too far away. Even if he hadn’t been, tipping his vehicle probably required more magic than my dagger housed.
My only hope lay with the purple maelstrom swallowing the sky.
Below, the carriage swerved, and my heart lifted. Maybe the horses wouldn’t stop. Maybe they’d stampede against the house’s walls and explode their cargo in a shower of wood and lacerated flesh.
But no. The vehicle skidded to a halt in the circular drive. A hulking coachman leapt down to yank open the doors. Two figures burst out, one diminutive—a woman?—the other medium-sized. The smaller helped the driver unload the luggage, then reached for the horses, but the panicked animals wheeled back the way they’d come, the now-empty vehicle jouncing behind them.
The storm’s whine rose to a scream. From the darkness, a shadow swooped toward me—some mutant hybrid of bat and crow. It cawed harshly before exploding into wisps.
The shadowy tendrils hit my skin and burrowed through. It was an illusion, but I could no longer distinguish nightmare from reality, could only clutch the railing and swallow my horror while darkness writhed beneath my flesh.
Down in the drive, the largest and smallest figures darted into the manor. But the third paused to look up. Despite the fiery wind, a raised cloak hood shrouded his face. Sinister eyes glinted within.
My hands squeezed the rusted railing with such savagery that blood wetted my palms. This was the prince, clearly, but instead of hurrying inside, he just...stood there, as unyielding as a blade poised to fall.
Tingles sheeted through me at the audacity. How? How could he stay so still, anchored to the earth by nothing but his boots? How could he stand unmoving while the wind lashed his cloak into an inky frenzy?
