Page 57 of The Midnight Prince

My vision crackles at the edges. The space around me shudders even more. Instinct thrashes against my splintering control. “Whose was it?” I keep my voice quiet.

If I yell, I’ll erupt.

“I-I —”

“Answer.”

A wheezing inhale. “My father just wanted —” Her words dissolve in a whimper.

Father.

Chills leech through my spine at the implication, and the corridor tilts even more. But I know where the general is. I shove my way through the plummeting in my gut and focus on the woman cowering before me. “Is your mother involved too?”

Tears stream down her cheeks. Wild golden eyes refuse to hold mine, but she nods. “She ran. She left me —”

“Harran.” I keep my gaze on the traitor. “Stay with Alia. Hold these two. You four stay with him. Find out where Vaddik and Tarriel are.” I gesture to the guards closer to Harran. “The rest of you, with me.”

As Harran restrains the girls and one of the other men moves to Alia, I start down the narrow corridor. Darkness and light flicker more the farther we go. Numerous doors pepper the walls. Zeccar’s wife could be anywhere.

Despair coils around my brain, unexpected, paralyzingly intense. Dread rises with it, insisting that we won’t find her. She’ll have run, hidden somewhere. She’ll lie low until she can make her escape. She may even manage to get to Zeccar, warn him.

If they escape the palace, we may never find them.

But something about where we stand feels off. Too dark in places, yet light in others, like something shifts it. The doors don’t look right either, are too warped and hazy. Beyond that, the emotions swirling in me don’t feel like mine.

It’s not real.

Like daylight cresting the trees, the illusion fizzles before my eyes.

Tajanna stands at the end of the hall. At the dead end she wants us to think continued through yet another doorway. Her lips keep moving, crafting a whispered tale of falsehoods. Melding illusion and storyweaving. Creating something new, a blended magic, nearly impossible to unravel or withstand. Surely what she did with Alia.

A glance behind us reveals far fewer doorways. Most appear to be yawning black holes, opening into storage rooms with no other exits. Everything in this place is twisted, conjured from her mind. Her desperate attempt to hide that she has nowhere to go.

Without letting on that I see her, I continue forward. Pretending to check doors. Only when I’m an arm’s length from her do I snap my gaze to hers.

For a split second, she stares through me. Then she shifts. Catches a breath and stills. Her eyes slide over to meet mine.

Not even my brothers’ killer looked at me in such terror.

Magic sears like molten steel inside me. Before she can do anything but gasp, I catch her hair and wrench her sideways. A dozen emotions blast across me within her shriek. They fade as she sinks to her knees. Pleas and blubbers stream out.

I ignore it all. Keeping a hold of her hair, I yank her to her feet and force her forward. Back down the hall. Back to my bride, who now waits with Harran in the room we’d entered. Vaddik and Tarriel sit among the other soldiers, nursing wounds. Nothing about the scene communicates life-threatening injuries. I let my gaze sweep over Alia, match her pained smile with my own, and shove Tajanna toward the other traitors.

She crumples beside her daughter and gapes at me. Wide-eyed and trembling like the rodent she is.

I spin away from them and yank Alia into a tight hug. She clings to me, her face pressed against my chest, whispering that she’s okay. Over and over.

I barely hear it. Every instinct in me aches for devastation. Destruction in the way that only I can create. Past Alia’s head, I meet Harran’s grim stare.

“Bring them.”

Soldiers wrench the three women to their feet. I move Alia to my right, grip her hand, and assume point out of the room. With every step we take toward the ballroom, my magic surges deeper. Until my breath shudders. Until my vision darkens. Until it doesn’t matter if Alia is safe at my side.

Because they went after her. Again.

I lead us in the back way. Kick the double doors open without breaking stride. The slam echoes above the musicians. All falls silent. My soldiers drag the three women to the middle of the gathering and hurl them down in front of me. They hit the ground, scrambling to right themselves.

“No one leaves,” I tell my men. Several join the other guards at the doors. I step in front of Alia and focus on the traitors. My voice comes out in a guttural snarl. “Do you have anyideawho you’re dealing with?”

---