Page 166 of Heir of Illusion

When I’d asked Darrow if anyone would be able to use the sword without consequence, he’d said only the Goddess of Illusion.

Or one of her descendants.

I shake my head, trying to deny it. When I’d asked Maebyn if she knew Baylor before all of this, she’d said she hadn’t seen him since he was a boy.

“That’s right, pet.” A cruel smile reveals razor-sharp teeth. “Iam the Heir of Illusion.”

At once, his skin shifts to a sickly translucent gray as horns grow from his head, curving into dangerous points. The fingers wrapped around the sword elongate into talons so sharp that one slice could disembowel someone. His spine hunches and his shoulders curl inward as horrible, membranous wings rip from his back and expand across the length of the room.

This is the version of him that has haunted my nightmares. Hisvetereform. The one they call the Beast of the Battle.

A choked laugh pulls my focus away from the monstrous king. Thorne’s gaze is locked on Baylor as he uses what little strength is left in his body to push himself to his knees. He sways, and for a moment, I think he’s going to fall back down, but he catches himself on his hands.

Hatred burns in Baylor’s gaze as he edges closer to Thorne.

“You can’t kill him!” I cry, desperate to stop him. Terror builds through me as I watch Thorne struggle to keep his eyes open. He’s far too drained to even attempt to summon his shadows or fire. The sword took everything from him.

“Watch me.” Baylor positions the tip of the blade at Thorne’s throat.

“Thealmanovain the hands of a God becomes a God Slayer,” I repeat Darrow’s words, praying Baylor actually listens to me. “Even if you are an Heir,”And that’s a bigif, I think privately. “He is still a God, meaning only another God can kill him.”

“I’ve always wondered about that,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he gazes at Thorne with disgust. “Who’s to say an Heir couldn’t do the same? To my knowledge, the theory has never been tested but now seems like the perfect time to try.”

“You’re no Heir,” Thorne spits, his eyes locked on the monster before him. “I’d sense it if you were.”

Baylor chuckles darkly. “You would think so, wouldn’t you, boy? Usually, you’d be able to sense anyone with divine blood, but the Fates do love to dole out their little punishments.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to keep him talking in the hope I can distract him long enough to stop him from hurting Thorne.

“I angeredthem.” His upper lip curls. “And now those three vindictive bitches are teaching me a lesson by trying to deny me my birthright.” He pounds his free hand against his chest indignantly. “My fate!”

“Because you locked your own mother in a cage?”

His crimson eyes flash to me. “I see you’ve been sneaking into places you shouldn’t, pet. We’ll have to talk about that after we’ve put your collar back on.”

“You won’t touch her,” Thorne growls, his whole body vibrating with a mixture of rage and exhaustion.

“And you’re wrong, Iverson,” Baylor says to me, completely ignoring Thorne’s threat. “Ididn’t imprison my mother. That was my father’s doing.”

Triston? Maebyn’s husband?

I shake my head. “Why would he do that?”

“Jealousy eats away at us all,” he answers. “Even the Gods and their mates aren’t immune to it.”

“You killed him,” I murmur, pulling on the knowledge from my history lessons. “When you marched on the palace and took the throne, you killed Triston. Your own father.”

He shrugs, but the gesture isn’t as convincing as he wants it to appear. “I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Besides, he’d gone mad. Someone had to stop him.”

“You could have freed your mother at any time,” I insist.

“And then what would I do?” he snaps as his rage builds. “Return her crown and expect her to welcome me with open arms?” He barks out a hollow laugh. “That bitch never wanted me. She sent me away the day I was born and never let me return.”

“So instead, you plotted to kill her?”

“I chose to forge my own path!” he shouts. “The Fates can try to deny me my destiny all they want, but once Maebyn is dead, her power will shift to me. I will ascend into the God of Illusion, whether they like it or not.”

“Clearly madness runs in your family,” I sneer.

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