She is my weakness. I’ll do whatever they want, even let that thing inside.
My soul shrivels up into nothing. All energy seeps from my limbs as that realization steals away my last remaining hope.
“Don’t give up yet,” she tells me just before Haze approaches and Ivar tightens his grip.
“Don’t give up yet,” Haze says.
I pinch my brow, looking between them.There is no kindness in his eyes. They are unnaturally black.
I gasp as I’m pulled back against Ivar’s chest. He grips my throat so tightly I choke.
Haze rolls his eyes and gives an annoyed look to the priestess. I’m dying, suffocating.
And he’s simply annoyed.
I want to kill him. When I shoved the dagger in his chest, I didn’t really mean it. I was scared and angry and needed to get away, but I didn’t truly want him to die.
Now, I do.
My vision peppers black before the priestess flicks her wrist. Ivar flies back, and I fall straight to the ground. I gasp for air and try to understand what’s happening now.
“Leave,” Blythe commands. Ivar grumbles, but he pulls himself to his feet and obeys, shuffling from the room like a battered puppy.
I cough, eyes darting around the room. The priestess clicks her tongue and explains, “I am more powerful than any of them.”
“How?” I breathe. I knew she had some strange power, but I didn’t realize it was this formidable.
“You’ll see soon enough. You will be like me. Power will fill your veins, and you will willingly feed that power to our Ancient One. And you’ll do it with a smile on your face, or your littlefriend over there will be torn apart bit by bit. Would you like Haze to show you the kind of pain we can inflict?—”
“No!” I say quickly, too quickly. “He was right. I’ll do whatever you ask. Don’t hurt her.”
Haze glances at me but any other reaction is hidden behind his mask.
“But if I ever get the chance to kill you,” I say calmly, meeting his emotionless stare. “I will take it.”
I sit with this new reality, gaze unfocused. My mind, lost somewhere inside the maze of madness. Whatever this new torment will be, I know I will wish for death.
And I will wish for revenge.
“Let’s give the Ancient just a little taste of the gift we’ve acquired for him,” the priestess instructs.
Haze grabs my wrist, and before I’m even aware of what’s happening he slices the blade of a silver dagger across my forearm. I scream. Or at least, I think I do. I hear nothing as red blood streams down my arm. He tugs me forward, right up to the dead man on the table. I scream pathetically, but already, the blood is pouring into his open mouth.
Was his mouth open before?
I rip my arms from my Dread’s grip and hold it against my chest. Blythe and Haze watch the man carefully.
He is so pale and wrinkled. The oldest person I can remember was Great Aunt Lynda, who lived to be seventy. This man must have lived decades longer than her. But even with his mouth gaping open to accept my blood, he doesn’t move for so long that I think all of this was for nothing.Maybe my blood doesn’t have the power they thought it does.
How would it? I am just a village girl. I am nothing special.
Then, his eyes open, coins sliding off of his head and onto the floor with a scattering of clinks.
I hold my breath. Bones crack as he sits up.
He licks the crimson red liquid from his lips. My blood. He’s tasting my blood.
“What is she?” His voice is so hoarse it’s hard to make out the words.
