Anna jerked backwards.
Everett's grip tightened on her waist. The nobleman's sour breath was hot in her ear, and stubble scratched her cheek. She slammed an elbow backwards and he caught it, twisting her face until she was forced to look at him. His pupils were blown wide with dream somnium and something else. Something hungry.
"That's right," Everett murmured, stroking a thumb over her mouth. "I know exactly who you are, sweetheart. And you know what?" His nail dug into her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. "It doesn't fucking scare me."
Anna thrashed.
He was bigger than her, she realized; stronger, too. She scanned the room for weapons — her gaze skipping over the swan bed, a fluttering candle by the window, a selection of blindfolds — and came up short. She had a dagger in her left boot, but that was it. And anyway, she wouldn't be able to reach the dagger at this angle.
Which left only one option.
Anna closed her eyes, dragging her magic to the surface. Silver strands tumbled from her hands, slithering around Everett's ankles like writhing serpents. Everett raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, I wouldn't bother, if I were you." The young nobleman sounded amused. "The dream somnium you put in my wine will counteract the effects."
Anna paused. "You're smarter than you look."
Everett chucked her on the chin. "Can't say the same for you, lamb."
The magic fell away. "I'm going to give you ten seconds to let go of me."
Everett snorted. "Cute."
"Eight," Anna said.
"The Queen of Shadows," Everett murmured, stroking his hand along her collarbone. "I always wondered how you'd taste." His mouth ghosted her neck. "Like sin, I'd expect."
Anna closed her eyes. "Five."
"You can struggle, if you'd like," Everett murmured. "I think I'd enjoy that." His teeth sunk into the tender skin where he'd bitten, making the wound sting. "Feel free to tell me exactly how much you'd like me to stop."
A flash of irritation filled her. "Three seconds. And I really don't want to make a mess."
"Oh, you can be as messy as you like," Everett said. "In fact—"
Anna slammed her head back.
Everett swore, clutching at his nose; red blood spilled down his face. He lurched out of the chair, grappling for her, and she kicked him in the stomach. He collided with the wall. A vase shattered, raining glass onto the carpet. Everett swore, steadying himself against the mantlepiece; there was murder in his eyes.
He launched at her with speed. Anna took the force of his weight, allowing it to propel them towards the bed. She twisted, pinning him beneath her, and he swiped a hand towards her face. Something sharp stung her face. Glass, Anna realized belatedly, her head spinning; he must have picked up a shard of glass from the mantlepiece.
Shit.
Everett slashed out again, and she caught his hand this time, pinning it down. The gods must have been smiling on her because someone had already secured ropes to all four corners of the bed; Anna worked at the ties, her hands slick with sweat and blood.
She stepped back, wiping her palms on her dress. Everett thrashed like a fish caught in a net.
"You bitch," he seethed.
"Yeah." Anna sucked in air. "I get that a lot."
His eyes glittered. "I won't tell you anything."
"I admire your determination." Anna wiped at her face; her hand came away silver. "Your combat, not so much."
The door flew open.
Ryne Delafort stood in the threshold. His brown hair was ruffled, and his cheeks were flushed, as if he'd run all the way up the stairs. He took in the room — the shattered glass, Everett struggling on the bed, the blood on her cheek — and a muscle jumped in his cheek. When he spoke, his voice was very calm.
"Ah," Ryne said. "I see we've had to resort to Plan B."
Anna raised an eyebrow. "The others?"
"Enjoying a drink," Ryne said, crossing his arms. "I told them that you'd have the situation well in hand."
He looked at Everett, and the muscle in his cheek jumped again. Anna had the sense that he'd love nothing more than to seize a piece of glass and drive it through Everett's skull. Still, Anna thought, Ryne was trusting her to take the lead on the situation. That was something.
"So." Anna leaned against the bed. "Back to our earlier conversation. Eris's weaknesses."
"Go to hell," Everett snarled, thrashing against the restraints. "I'm not telling you anything." He snapped his head to face Ryne. "You should be ashamed of yourself, kinslayer."
Ryne smirked. "I'm amazed you know words that long."
Anna crossed the room, picking up the candle. She held it out for Everett's inspection. "Do you know what this is?"
His eyes were furious. "I'm not telling you shit."
"Zarobian candle wax," Anna said, ignoring him. "At the right temperature, the burn feels pleasurable. But at the wrong temperature..." She tilted the candle, letting a droplet of wax run down the side. "The burning sensation is excruciating. Courtesans have to train for months to get the wax exactly right before they use it on their clients."
Everett bared his mouth in a snarl. "As I said. Go to hell."
"Fine." Anna shrugged. "We'll do this the hard way, then."
"Start with the eyelids," Ryne suggested, waving a finger lazily. "The skin's thinner there."
Anna nodded. "Good thought."
She raised the candle over Everett's face. Something like fear flickered in his eyes.
"Wait," Everett said hoarsely.
Anna tilted the candle. "You may want to close your eyes for this. I suspect it'll hurt."
"Wait!" Everett said.
"Or it could blind you," Anna added cheerfully, letting the wax pool in the metal holder. "Can't say I've tested the mechanics of it before."
Everett's throat bobbed. "Stop."
Anna leaned closer. Something hammered at her heart — a foreign, burning anger — and she echoed his previous words, injecting as much venom into them as possible. "You can struggle, if you'd like. I think I'd enjoy that."
"Please," Everett gasped.
Anna paused, a bead of wax clinging to the metal candle holder. Everett let out a broken sob. He was sucking in quick breaths, his forehead flushed and slick; the ropes had left angry red manacles on his wrists.
"I'll tell you anything," Everett panted. "Anything you want."
Anna jerked the candle away. She could feel Ryne watching her as she perched on the bed, and her cheeks warmed. Ryne, she knew, would never lose his shit like that; he'd never let his emotions get the better of him when interrogating someone. He must think her unstable. Or worse, incompetent.
She switched the candle to her other hand. "How well do you know Eris Delafort?"
Everett's throat bobbed. "We met at a gentlemen's club six years ago. I'm one of his royal advisors."
"Interesting," Anna said. "And who else is on his council?"
"Morgan. Blackwater. Orin Grayson." Everett's eyes flicked to the candle. "There's someone else, too. A group of people that he calls his benefactors."
Anna stilled. She'd heard that name before, but where? She had to drag the memory to the surface, wresting it kicking and screaming from the depths of her consciousness. Camille, she recalled; Camille had said that Lucia wrote to a group of benefactors about procuring a new body for her.
A stone settled in the bottom of Anna's stomach.
Shit. Not good.
"You don't know who they are?" Anna asked.
Everett's mouth tightened. "No."
She tipped the candle. "Really?"
"I don't!" Everett's bound hands shot up to block his face. "Eris never told us, I swear. Please. I don't know."
"Then what do you know?" Anna demanded. "Surely Eris must have some sort of weakness. A part of the castle that isn't fortified. A debt that needs calling in. A secret child that he wants to protect. A lover." She leaned closer. "What is it?"
Everett's tongue darted out to lick his lip. "I don't know."
Anna raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
She tipped the candle again. Everett's beady eyes followed the movement, his breath quickening.
"I suggest you think very, very carefully," Anna said.
"Please." The word was a whisper.
Anna half-turned. "Which eyelid shall I start with first, Delafort? The right one looks thinner to me, but the left—"
"Wait!" Everett cried.
The nobleman was sweating, soaking through the white feathered pillows. He closed his eyes, as if preparing himself for something very, very unpleasant.
"It's his eye," Everett said.
Anna blinked. "His eye?"
"Eris's left eye," Everett said sourly. "The vision's impaired. He can't see someone coming from that side. Nobody's meant to know about it, but we went hunting one time, and there was a misfire with the bow..." Sweat trickled down his face. "He swore me to secrecy."
Anna glanced at Ryne. His face was expressionless, but she knew exactly what he was thinking: got him.
"Interesting." Anna leaned closer. "And what else?"
They ascertained the layout of Helos Castle, the weakest entrances and the movements of the guards. By the time Anna was done asking questions, the sun had sunk behind the hills, plunging the world into twilight; the only light came from the flickering candle, which reflected a ghostly shadow in the windowpane. Anna rose, adjusting her skirts. Silver blood crusted the silk material.
"Well," Anna said, "I think we're done here." She set the candle down. "Delafort? Care to do the honours?"
Ryne rolled up his sleeves. "Already on it."
Golden strands tumbled from his hands. Everett's eyes flared wide.
"What— What are you doing?"
Ryne ignored him, letting the magic curl around the thrashing nobleman's body. Everett screamed, and Ryne sent out one of the tendrils like a whip, snaking it over his mouth. Even now, Anna couldn't help but shudder. It was one thing to know how powerful Ryne was, but to actually see it...
Her stomach clenched.
Ryne smiled. "Sleep well."
He yanked the golden ropes tight. Everett's head snapped back, his eyes falling closed before he hit the pillow. His chest was terrifyingly still.
Anna whirled around. "You didn't kill him, did you?"
"No." Ryne's brow furrowed. "He'll sleep for a week, but he's alive." He pushed down his sleeves again. "Why? Did you want me to?"
"Why?" Anna's heart was beating so fast that she thought she might be sick. "Would you have done it if I asked?"
For a long moment, Ryne merely studied her, his green eyes very bright in the candlelight. Everett's rattling snores filled the room. Then Ryne turned for the door, pushing her ahead of him with surprising gentleness. "Come on. Let's go."
Bawdy laughter and music drifted up from the main room below, accompanied by the occasional clink of a glass. They'd made it down three steps before Ryne raised an eyebrow. "Also, Zarobian candle wax?"
Anna shrugged. "It was the first thing I thought of."
His mouth curved. "Not bad, Cidarius."
She took the stairs two-at-a-time. "I have a creative imagination."
"You didn't want to use force," Ryne observed.
There was surprise in his voice. And maybe he should be, Anna thought; after all, she'd poisoned a girl to get into Stillwater Castle. She'd bargained and cheated, lied and killed. What was one man in the grand scheme of things? And yet...
Her stomach knotted.
And yet, something had changed within her since the Battle of Port Flurry. Something that made her uncomfortable when she took it out and examined it for too long. She paused at the bottom of the staircase.
"People can withstand pain," Anna said. "It's the anticipation of it that breaks them."
Ryne's face was unreadable. They'd stopped in a narrow alcove beneath the stairs; to their left, light and laughter spilled out from the main dining hall. To their right, a door was propped open, letting in a flurry of rain and cold air. Anna could just make out a small garden and a brick wall through the downpour.
Ryne braced a hand above her head. He opened his mouth and then hesitated.
Anna's heart sped up. "What?"
"There are marks." His voice was strange. "On your neck."
Her hand flew up. The skin was smarting where Everett had bitten her, and the wounds felt hot and swollen to the touch. She swallowed. "I know."
A beat passed. Ryne's jaw tightened.
"Why did you say that?" His voice was short. "The part about liking it if he struggled."
Anna looked away. "I didn't realize you'd heard that."
Ryne's hand was white against the wall. "He said that to you first, didn't he?"
Silence stretched out between them, pulled long as summer taffy. The smell of wet earth and roses drifted through the open door. Anna forced herself to look at him. "Some men get off on the idea of pain. It's not the first time I've experienced it."
Ryne sucked in a sharp breath. "Did Eris...?"
A lump rose in her throat. Ryne's eyes flashed.
"Burning stars," he growled.
Ryne was holding himself very still. Not as if he was afraid to move, Anna thought, but as if he was afraid of what might happen if he did. A flash of lightning illuminated his face, casting it in an eerie white glow.
"I'm going to kill him one day," Anna told him.
Her voice was calm. She could feel the blood on her cheek drying, calcifying into something harder. Ryne's green eyes were chipped gems.
"I know," Ryne said quietly. "And you deserve to. But when I think about finding you in that tower... when I imagine the things that Eris did to you..." His eyes looked almost black in the darkness. "Standing aside will be the hardest thing I've ever done."
Her chest tightened. "Delafort..."
"I want to kill the bastard." Ryne looked away, his jaw working. "I want to tear out his heart with my hands."
There was no venom in his voice. Only a bone-chilling ice, the sort of glacial water that punched the breath from your lungs. She looked up.
"Why?" Anna whispered.
Ryne held her gaze. "What?"
She took a ragged breath. "You say that standing aside will be the hardest thing you've ever done. Now I'm asking you why."
A muscle in his cheek flexed. "You already know why."
Anna's breath rattled in her ears. They were standing very close now, so close that she could smell the pine still clinging to his clothes. Ryne's body caged her against the wall, his hand pressing into the stone above her. She thought of the night before the battle, the words he'd said to her in that hard, self-mocking tone. Regrettably, I seem incapable of not loving you. There was never a choice for me.
Ryne had thought they were going to die, then. They both had.
But that was the thing with words, Anna thought; once they were said, taking them back was as impossible as turning ash back into kindling.
The wind shifted, sending torrents of rain into the nook. Anna was soaking wet, cold rain lashing at her skin, but she hardly noticed; the world had narrowed to the droplets of water clinging to Ryne's sooty lashes. The way his white tunic had turned parchment-thin, exposing every hard muscle and scar.
"Cidarius," Ryne murmured. "Say something."
Anna fisted her hand in his shirt and kissed him.