Page 129 of The Nymph Prince
I’d kill myself before I let that happen.
“I am not Haman. I will never be like him.” I put my hand on Ezra’s chest and tried to push him away, but he was stronger than me. I shoved again, and he held firm. My hands tingled and my blood boiled. “Get away from me!”
My burst of anger sent him stumbling backward. The blast hadn’t been strong enough to send him flying across the room like I’d intended, but it gave me a small window of time to make my move.
I ran toward the rickety staircase.
If I could make it back to the woods to Reif, I could tell him that their numbers were smaller than we’d anticipated. Our chance of victory was strong. But not if I was locked away in some temple.
Lorcan would lose his focus if he was worried about me. He would make mistakes.
An invisible force gripped me just as I reached the second step, and I was thrown backward. The breath was knocked from my lungs as my back slammed against the wall and I slid to the floor. I gasped and attempted to suck in air.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, Aleksander,” Ezra said, approaching me. He smoothed a hand over his pale hair, and upon discovering a strand had fallen from its hold, he tucked it behind his ear. “Your body is precious to me, you see, and I don’t want it harmed in any way. But you gave me no choice. I hope you understand.”
Finally able to breathe again, but still shaky, I slowly sat up. His words confused me. Why did he care about my body? Such an odd phrasing. Maybe he wanted to keep my injuries minimal, because he still had hope I’d surrender to the darkness.
“I’ll never give you what you want,” I said through sharp wheezes.
“You won’t have a choice.” Ezra bent down and took hold of my chin. “Fight all you want, but the end will remain the same. Spare yourself the agony and just accept your fate.”
Mumbled chants sounded from above us, growing louder by the second
“It must be time,” Ezra said before slipping his arms under mine and helping me to my feet. “We should join them.”
No, I have to do something. I can’t let this happen.
Once steady, I swung at him. He caught my fist in his hand and tsked with his tongue.
“Oh, Aleksander. You’re even stubborn like my Haman.”
Ezra’s eyes flashed purple, and I cried out as my arms were forcibly pinned behind my back. He whistled as he walked around me. Cold metal was placed around my wrists.
“These chains should hold you for a while,” he said in a casual tone, as if we were chatting like old friends. “Rune symbols are engraved in the cuffs, so you can’t break them with magic. Though, it’d be amusing to see you try.”
I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought he was friendly. As he’d talked about his mother and how he came into this world, I’d even pitied him. Not anymore. He was just as twisted as the other dark mages. Maybe even more so.
There’d been several times in my life where I’d felt worthless; the day my family had been slaughtered right there in Black Hallows, the day theCrimson Nighthad been attacked, and when Lorcan had told me about his vision. But in that moment, as Ezra pushed me up the creaking stairs and toward the chanting mages, I reached a new low.
I tried using my powers to throw Ezra backward, but with the shackles around my wrists, my magic was bound. All of the time Eva had spent preparing me for this day and I could do nothing but let it happen.
We reached the top and he pushed me through the crowd of people and toward the altar at the front of the temple. An anchor dropped into my gut when I saw how many people were there. Much more than there’d been earlier. The entire building was full, and others were outside crowding in the street.
The dark mages might not have been warriors who could swing swords and shoot arrows, but their minds were their weapons. Just like Reif had said. Even though we still outnumbered them by the look of it, there was little defense against magic.
“Wonderful, is it not?” Ezra whispered in my ear. “They’ve all gathered here for you, dearest Aleksander.”
“Child of the dark,” they chanted, holding hands and swaying as I passed.
Candles were lit all through the temple, some tall and others short. A few mages held torches, slowly swinging them in the air.
It gave me flashbacks of my childhood.
My mother had never let me attend the rituals in the temple, but I’d watched from afar, seeing the torches burn through the windows. There’d been screams, guttural ones that had often given me nightmares. Father had then comforted me, telling me I had nothing to fear for he would always protect me.
My eyes stung with the memory. For the first time in over six years, I wanted my father.
As I neared the altar, my knees shook with fear. There was a black box, a silver goblet, an old book, and a large dagger on the surface. What if I’d been wrong? What if they only needed my blood for the ritual? They’d slit my throat and bleed me dry.
