All right. He leaned away from her as his collar whispered to hurt, punish, kill, and the pain that lingered in the wake of Irina’s magic throbbed dully.
And you have to immediately show me if the pain gets worse, or if you start to lose control. She flexed her fingers and looked at his chest, now covered with a shirt borrowed from Gabril. Now, let’s go eat. I’m going to need my strength.
For the barrier in Eldr? He didn’t bother trying to hide how much her answer meant to him.
Yes. Her eyes were on his again as he held the tent flap open, letting in a gust of cold air and a peek at an indigo sky slowly fading to black.
And then do you have somewhere safe to go? Somewhere to hide from Irina? You can always go to Eldr if you want.
She lifted her chin. I’m not the one who needs somewhere safe to hide.
Images spun through her mind—a bridge collapsing into the water, communication towers toppling, and Irina clutching her heart as every spell she used against Lorelai’s onslaught weakened her further. His collar’s whispers skittered and screamed as the princess’s plan unfolded before him.
He met her gaze. You’re going after Irina.
Once Eldr is safe, yes.
Lorelai, what you’re planning . . . you’re going to war.
Her eyes were fierce. That’s right. I’m going to destroy her defenses, provoke her to use magic so that she grows weaker by the day, and then I’m returning to my castle, and I’m taking it back.
His dragon heart thundered, a vicious tempo that lit the fire in his chest. Irina tricked me.
Yes, she did.
She stole my human heart and trapped me with this collar.
Lorelai leaned close. Want to help me?
He bared his teeth in a smile every bit as fierce as hers. I thought you’d never ask.
TWENTY-SIX
IRINA CLENCHED HER mirror with a white-knuckled grip and glared at its surface. It was the morning of the seventh day after she’d flooded the Eldrian king with her magic, taken his human heart, and sent him, wild with rage and pain, back into the Falkrains to find and destroy the princess.
It had been a simple command. The strength of the collar’s painful spell combined with the viciousness of his dragon heart should have compelled him to obey her.
And yet he defied her.
She hadn’t been sure at first. She’d scryed the surface of her mirror several times a day, but she’d seen nothing useful. He’d been walking, sometimes crawling, sometimes hanging on to tree trunks as if he needed their help to stand.
Without allowing him to see her thoughts through the connection her magic had forged between them—something no one but Raz was ever allowed to do—she couldn’t be sure of his intent. She’d assumed he was hunting the princess, slowed by the injuries she’d inflicted.
The truth set her blood ablaze with rage.
She stared at the mirror’s surface, her teeth clenched so hard that little shocks of pain reverberated up her jaw as the swirling clouds of the mirror’s surface parted to reveal the princess walking through a forest of hornbeam trees with the king by her side.
Not trying to kill her. Not ripping out her heart. Smiling at her when she looked at him, though he sometimes curled his hands into fists as if fighting the urge to hurt her like he was supposed to do.
“Fool.” Irina spat the word at the mirror’s surface while her heart pounded and her palms burned.
He acted as though he wasn’t under a blood oath to fulfill the task she’d given him. As if his kingdom wasn’t on the line.
As if he could ignore her express orders without incurring any consequences.
Had he forgotten whom he was dealing with?
Irina’s hands shook with rage as she stared at Kolvanismir and Lorelai. The man who’d helped Lorelai escape wasn’t visible in the mirror’s surface. He hadn’t been since the first time she’d seen the princess.
He was of no consequence. She’d had his sketch drawn from the memories she’d found in the king’s blood. Viktor had recognized him immediately as Gabril Busche, the former head of the palace guard. She’d thought he was dead. She’d attended his funeral.
She’d be happy to attend it again.
But he didn’t matter now. She could use him against Lorelai if necessary, but she didn’t want to bear the strain of the magic that would take. Not when she’d already used so much power to create the perfect huntsman.
No, what mattered now was sending a reminder to the king that breaking an oath with a mardushka was not an option.
Not if he ever wanted to take another pain-free breath again.
Setting the mirror down on her vanity with a sharp click, she scooped up a blue velvet bag with a black ribbon drawstring. Loosening the ribbon, she poured the contents of the bag into her palm.
The moment the scraps of thistle and bone touched her skin, her magic flared, and she felt the connection to the king’s collar.