Page 63 of Court of Bone and Amethyst

“Oh, I know what you did, brother.” Jonavus’s words are saturated with hatred, his face twisted with rage. “You married Sarielle. That’s the only way the nightmares were sent back to their territory. Otreyas and Lyonian blood joined together.”

“I had to, to save my realm. And I would do it again.”

His next words stab me to the core. “Except me coming back to life makes your marriage invalid.”

“You died before the ceremony was complete!” I yell.

“Are you certain? Completely and without any doubt certain of that fact?”

I go still. I’mnotcertain. The only way to know for sure would be to find Xinius, to ask him if the joining of hands was enough to bind their marriage.

“That’s what I thought.” Jonavus smiles, cruel and blade-edged.

“Either way,” I growl, “I will not let you harm her. Do you hear me? A guardian is dangerous enough, but a guardianin love? If you touch a hair on her head, I will kill you again, brother.”

“Such a touching reunion,” Avonia says, stepping into the tent. Her gaze flicks to Jonavus. “It is time.”

“Time for what?” I snarl, but they both ignore me. Three guards stride in and untie me from the chair so I can stand. I’m still bound at the wrists and ankles, enough that I can walk forward with small steps, but not enough to run. I don’t fight back. Not yet. I need to find Sarielle.

Avonia and Jonavus duck out of the tent and the guards haul me out after them, shoving me forward and prodding me in the back when I don’t walk fast enough. They laugh when I trip and go to my knees in the snow because of the ropes. We move between a sea of tents. The shadow of the castle looms over us, but we travel away from it, out into a large field between the tents. Sarielle, Owyn, and Merla are already there, bound as Iam. Merla is on her knees at a weird angle, her legs must be injured.

“Zyren!” Sarielle cries when she sees me. I try to go to her, but the guards grab me and drag me a few paces away.

And then a sound cuts through the air, the sound of vast wings. A dark spot on the horizon moves toward us, more quickly than should be possible. The massive, winged nightmare circles in the sky overhead, then lands in front of us. The earth shakes as it lands, and snow and ice fly up, spraying across us. I turn and attempt to cover my face. The thing lets out a low growl that vibrates in my heart.

“Now that we’re all back together, it’s time to create an even grander reunion,” Avonia calls, her voice fever-pitched with zeal. “The reunion of Valaron with the rest of Aureon. A plan two thousand years in the making.”

“I will not help you,” Sarielle growls, spitting on the ground toward Avonia. “You are insane.”

“But that’s why Zyren and your friends are here,” Avonia croons. “If you refuse, I will feed them to Astherius one by one as you watch. And she will do it slowly.”

The nightmare lets out another growl, its eyes narrowing as it gazes on us hungrily.

Sarielle’s eyes go wide with panic, spinning to catch on mine.

“Who’s first?” Avonia asks, walking down the row of us standing there, her eyes grazing over us. She pauses in front of me. “Your guardian seems the obvious choice, but maybe I’ll save the best for last.”

She continues walking, stopping in front of Owyn. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you, sorcerer. The son of House Saorsen, long thought to be dead. Best friends with your brother, Sarielle. He avoided the slaughter all those years ago, so today seems fitting.”

Owyn glares at Avonia, and a flare of magic pulses off him. “I would gladly die for my queen. Any one of us would. Sarielle isn’t going to destroy all of Aureon for the lives of three people.”

Avonia shrugs. “Perhaps.” She continues on to Merla, who is closest to Sarielle, stopping in front of her. “You, my dear, are no stranger, either.”

Merla stiffens, her eyes flaring with abject terror.

A chuckle. “Did you think I would not recognize one of my own? You are Septarus, through and through. A slave, judging by the tattoo on your left earlobe.”

Owyn struggles against his bonds, a growl rising from his throat. “Leave her alone.”

Avonia looks to Sarielle. “Perhaps I just send this one back to the slave camps. Death would be too easy for one who deserted her own people. A traitor and a coward. I’ll make sure every day she lives a torturous existence. The Septarus slavers are renowned for their incredible cruelty, and their specialized skills in torture. And for a deserter? They would find new levels of agony for this one to endure.”

Sarielle’s jaw flexes, fury in her eyes. I can feel a pulse of magic burning in her core.

Avonia shrugs. “Okay. You don’t seem to mind condemning this girl to a life of torture. We’ll start with her. You’re more cutthroat than I imagined.” She cocks her head to the side. “I actually admire that in you, Sarielle.”

She lifts her hand and makes a gesture to her warriors, and several stride forward and grab Merla, hauling her up off her knees and dragging her backward. A scream rises from the girl’s throat, her eyes filled with dread. I spin, as do Sarielle and Owyn, watching in horror. Sarielle turns and looks at me. I catch her eyes and she nods.

Together, we call forth our shadows. It’s now or never.

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