Page 130 of Mistress of Lies

“Why?” Shan said. “Alessi—I don’t understand. I thought we were—”

Alessi threw one of her daggers—it flew awkwardly, but it still sliced along Shan’s arm. She didn’t even flinch, though she felt the sticky drip of blood welling and spilling down her arm.

“As if you could even understand,” Alessi spat. “With your grand schemes and slow plans, with your finery and your lords and your damned King.”

“So that’s it, then,” Shan said, finally able to wrap her fingers around the hilt of a dagger. “You weren’t satisfied.”

Alessi laughed, lunging forward. Shan whipped her dagger up, parrying the blow with the distinctive ring of steel on steel. “Satisfied? People were suffering while you partied!”

Shan gasped for breath, the effect of using so much Blood Working so fast left her empty and woozy. Her grip on her dagger was weak, the handle slipping in her own blood, and Alessi was fresh and strong, approaching her with a near maniacal gleam in her eyes. This time, when their blades met, Alessi bore down with all her strength, sending Shan skidding backwards as her boots slid on the floor.

“You think you’re powerful with your ancient bloodline and your money,” Alessi growled, as Shan started to buckle. “And what do you do with it? Drink and gamble and flirt while so many suffer.”

Shan twisted, spinning under Alessi’s arm to drag her blade across her ribs. Blood blossomed, and Shan felt a rush of relief. Bouncing back towards the wall, she ran her tongue across her dagger, lapping up her enemy’s blood. The bridge snapped to life between them, and Shan threw all of her will against her.

Alessi stilled, her chest heaving as she struggled to raise her arm.

“And what did you do?” Shan said. “But cause death and destruction?”

Alessi howled, frustrated, as she tried to move, but it was time to end this. Shan ran forward, pressing her dagger to Alessi’s throat, slicing through the flesh down to the bone, when—

“Enough!” Isaac shouted, loud enough to draw Shan’s attention away from Alessi.

But it was too late. The deed was done, Shan’s dagger hanging from her throat like a twisted pendant. Isaac just watched as Alessi’s body crumpled to the ground, his expression darkening to something frightening.

It was only then that Shan noticed the shattered glass on the floor, lying in pools of wet, dark blood. Isaac had circled around them as she had fought Alessi, setting this trap, placing his back to a second door, and she realized what he was going to do. Blood dripped from his hands, and she lurched forward.

“Let it go, Shan,” he said, as a rush of fire swept across the floor, “or let Samuel burn.”

Shan staggered back, the burning heat of witch fire roaring to life around her—a perversion of the mechanics behind witch light, an explosion born when a Blood Worker unlocked all the power within blood in one fell swoop. Hells, just how strong was he? It burned brighter and longer and hotter than anything Shan had ever known, fueled by Isaac’s magic and rage.

But it was a distraction and she knew it. Isaac had left her with a choice—go after him and leave Samuel to burn alive or save Samuel and risk him escaping. She knew what the correct choice was—her duty demanded that she let Samuel burn if it meant protecting the future and stability of Aeravin. The right choice was clear—and she chose the other path without hesitation.

Dropping her daggers, she dashed towards Samuel, her stiff and ruined fingers prying at the buckles that held him down.

“He’s getting away,” Samuel wheezed, his voice a pale and broken husk of what it should be.

“I’m not letting you go,” she said, tugging at the restraint on his hand. The fire was burning hotter, climbing up the walls, spreading so, so fast. “I’ve got you.”

“Your hands,” he gasped, and Shan flinched from the shock in his voice.

“They’ll heal.” She freed his hand, and he made quick work of the rest of his restraints. The flames continued to roar, the heat pressing in on them, as the entire back of the laboratory turned into a wall of flame.

“Come on,” Samuel said, standing on unsteady feet. He was trying to pull her towards the door she had come through, where the fire had yet to spread.

But she couldn’t tear her eyes from the fire, from the shimmering opening that Isaac had disappeared through.

Samuel followed her gaze and cursed. “Leave him.”

But she was already moving forward. She had let her heart lead her, and though she had saved Samuel, Isaac had still got away.

And if Isaac got away, Anton would die.

She could still catch him.

Chapter Forty-Five

Samuel

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