“You are a piece of work,” I said, my voice low. I needed to keep up my strength, but I would not give up.
“And you are nothing but a fabled liar—a failure. When The Gray has his due, you will be propped up as a pawn, a symbol of everything they’ve lost. You wonder why Durlan hasn’t cut deeper? Because you don’t get to die. The rest of the world needs to see you lose. They get to see their last chance of hope and their savior bend a knee before The Gray and beg for salvation. But you will never find that reprieve. Because you are nothing. Just like your precious king and your prince. The greatest plans…so many plans for you. And we’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg of what they could possibly be.”
“Now, now, Garrik. Don’t tell the Priestess too much of what we have planned for her,” The Gray said as he moved into the room.
Durlan was behind him, a silver dagger in his palm.
I held back a flinch at the sight.
I didn’t want to be cut again. I could still feel my skin tugging around the cuts from before, the ones that nobody had healed and were still bleeding.
They weren’t deep enough to kill me, but they did hurt. And that’s precisely what The Gray wanted.
To make me suffer.
“She knows nothing. Just like always.” Garrik rolled his eyes and went back to stand on the other side of The Gray.
These men were The Gray’s fourth and his second.
“Why did you call Easton your third?” I asked, wondering again why The Gray would even think that.
The Gray tilted his head, studying me with piercing eyes and sunken cheekbones. He looked like death. All he was missing was the scythe.
“He tells you so much, even though you still don’t know whether I can control him.”
I smiled then, showing teeth. “We broke his curse.”
“Ah, I see you did. He saved your life and broke the curse. Pity. Although the king was never supposed to kill you. You were meant to be mine.” He snarled the last word, and I was a little glad to know that he could lose his temper. That meant he didn’t have as much control as he thought.
That was good.
I’d be able to figure out how to use that.
Maybe.
“He’s my king. He’s mine. Of course, he told me.”
“So interesting. As for why I called him my third? Because he was destined to be mine. I took Durlan first, brought him under my wing. And when Lore found the boy, Easton was to be my third. Only we needed him to remain within the Obscurité castle walls for longer. So, he stayed, able to be pulled under my direction whenever I wanted. But I waited.”
I didn’t know if that was the case or not. If The Gray had absolute control over Easton, he would have done something with it. I thought he probably only had the ability to take him and use his memories. But he hadn’t been able to control my soulmate completely. No, Easton was too strong for that. And that had to grate on The Gray.
“Garrik came to me next. Hence why he is my fourth.”
“For now,” Garrik said, and The Gray just smiled.
That smile sent shivers down my spine, but I did my best to hide my reaction.
“I will have a fifth and a sixth. There is already one who could be my fifth soon.”
I froze. “Who?” He wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t know who it was.
“I should tell you a story. Would you like that, Lyric? Would you like to hear a story?”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” I said dryly and held back a scream as Durlan moved forward and sliced my arm. Icy pain seared my flesh, and I let out a breath, pretending that I wasn’t screaming inside.
Blood welled, and Braelynn hissed again.
But The Gray didn’t tell his little minion to stop.
Thankfully, though, Durlan didn’t cut me again.
As blood dripped to the floor, I held back tears. It was only a slight pain now, no bigger than a papercut, but I didn’t want any more.
I hadn’t been prepared for any of this.
I had been stabbed, burned, killed, and nearly killed again, and yet…this was worse.
Because I was alone. Alone with Braelynn.
And I couldn’t protect her.
I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to save myself either.
Garrik grinned from behind The Gray, and I knew he was reading my thoughts.
So, I imagined him burning at the stake, using my Fire Wielding to do it. Sadly, he didn’t wince this time.
I’d have to have more vivid thoughts next time.
Come up with new ways to torture him as I was being tortured.
“I was not always The Gray. I had a name once. It was so long ago that the name my parents gave to me—my poor, weakling parents—doesn’t matter. I earned my title, and I am now The Gray.” He began to pace, and Durlan and Garrik took a step back as if guarding their ruler.
But The Gray was no king.
“I have spent most of my life within this realm, a pocket inside of the Maison realm.”
“This is a jail for you, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Don’t interrupt.” He held out a hand as Durlan took a step forward.
“She won’t listen if she’s bleeding to death. Allow her to heal a bit more, and then you can cut again.”
“Whatever you say, my liege.”
I wanted to kick Durlan in the nuts, but I didn’t have that option.
“When I was named, another—the king of the Lumière—found me. He knew of my talents, not just of Spirit, but also of shadow and bone.” He smiled, and I felt bile rise up into my throat. “I helped kill the other Spirit Wielders, using all three of my Wieldings, my magics, to keep the King of Lumière healthy and more powerful than any could imagine. The King of Obscurité tried to stop me, but he was never enough. But when the Fall occurred, and the kings died, the powers that be didn’t want me where I had once been.”
“Who are these so-called powers that be?” I asked, wincing as my cuts tore anew.
“The twelve Spirit Wielders, of course. They created their touchstone long before you were even a glimpse in a prophecy. And they shoved me into this pocket realm. My cage. But I was able to get out. For the past five hundred years, I’ve spent time in the Maison realm, waiting and plotting. Whispering secrets into the ears of those in power. I tried to get to the Obscurité, for I had already worked with the Lumière. But the king and the queen refused to listen to my whispers. Their knight, however, listened. And I got to their son, even with the curse.” He started to pace again, and sweat broke out over my body, my incisions bleeding once more.
“I met someone. Someone who understood me. She didn’t know my name, didn’t know who I was, didn’t know who I could be. But I saw within her a power I could have. And with her, I produced a son. An heir of power and strength. Yet I couldn’t raise him myself.” He waved his hand in the air as if the idea that he’d had a son meant nothing.
My pulse raced, and I couldn’t help but wonder who it was. The Gray had a son out there somewhere? Who could it possibly be within the realm? Was he alive? Was he still there, waiting?
“Others took him from his mother, and when she found out exactly who I was, she tried to kill me. It didn’t work, as you can see. But I haven’t forgiven her for that. She’s still within the realm. Has always been within reach. She’ll do what I say because she knows I’ll take her son if she doesn’t. The whelp was raised not knowing who his parents were and shamed. Shamed because nobody knew what power could be within him. And when I’m finally able to claim him as mine, my son, the one of light, he will come to me. Because he will know what blood runs in his veins. He will be mine.”