Page 90 of The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

I took a deep breath and opened my palms over the blade, just an inch or two from the surface. I closed my eyes and tried to look very, very serious.

I was bullshitting so fucking hard.

Use this moment,Vincent commanded in my ear.This may be an act, but it might be the only time you get to prepare yourself.

He had a good point. I used this moment to connect to the forces around me, feeling the room.

Feeling the Nightfire.

I was probably too weak to generate it myself right now, or at the very least too inconsistent to be certain I could, but… I could feel it pulsing in those torches, the energy familiar, if weak and distant.

I could work with that.

All I needed was a few seconds of distraction.

I opened my eyes to meet Evelaena’s.

“It’s done,” I said. “Try it.”

She looked wary. “Are you sure it worked?”

“This is powerful magic. It knew you were blood.”

Telling her what she so desperately wanted to believe. The flare of desire in her eyes showed me she’d bought it.

The little girl was still giving me that wary stare, and she tugged on Evelaena’s skirt, as if in silent protest.

Evelaena ignored her as she unwrapped the sword.

“Take its hilt,” I said. “It’s ready to accept you.”

She was definitely going to see through this. How could she not?

But hope was a strange, potent drug, and Evelaena was at its mercy. She took the hilt and drew the sword.

For a moment, nothing happened. The room was utterly silent. A slow smile of glee spread over her lips.

She started, “It’s—”

—And then she let out a shriek of pain.

The steady glow of the blade flickered in erratic spurts. The scent of burnt flesh filled the room. The sound Evelaena was making rose from a moan to a scream, but she wouldn’t release the sword—or maybe the sword refused to release her. Several of the children ran to her side, pulling at her in panic. The rest hugged the walls, watching wide-eyed.

Move,Vincent roared.Move now!

One chance. One opening.

Fear is the fucking key to it, Oraya,Raihn had screamed at me, during the Halfmoon trial.

He had been right. The key was all the ugliness, all the weakness I refused to look at. Everything the sword had pulled up in me. Everything that had hurt me.

I reached deep.

Deep into my heart and my past and the memories.

My rage, my grief, my confusion, my betrayal. I took all of it. I ripped it all open inside myself.

Beneath it all was sheer power.

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