Grant sneered. “Way to state the obvious, Lila.”

“The brown hair and eyes . . . that’s the real you, isn’t it? The pretty boy face you have on now is just what you let everyone else see. What you want them to see.”

“Of course it is.” His voice escaped in an evil hiss. “You think that anyone would look at me twice with a nobody face like that? You think anyone would notice me, pay attention to me, take orders from me? Of course not. Especially not with him around.”

He stalked over and bent down so that he was face to face with Devon. “It wasn’t enough that you were born with compulsion magic, was it, Devon? Oh no. You had to get good looks, too. Muscles, fighting skills, a rich Family, an adoring entourage of friends. I guess some people really do have all the luck.” Grant’s mouth twisted more. “Well, I don’t need luck.”

He straightened up and looked down his nose at Devon. “And I think it’s high time your luck ran out—permanently.”

He twirled the dagger in his hand, moving it into a better position so he could stab Devon with it—

“Wait !” I yelled, desperate to save Devon. “Wait!”

Grant looked over his shoulder at me. “And why should I do that?”

“Because what if you get it wrong?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever taken anyone’s Talent before? Ripped their magic out of them?”

His silence told me that he hadn’t. Behind him, the two guards exchanged a surprised, worried look. Apparently, Grant hadn’t told them he’d never swiped someone’s Talent before.

“What if you do something wrong?” I asked. “What if you mess up? Then you won’t get Devon’s magic, and you’ll just have a dead body on your hands.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

I opened my mouth, then clamped my lips shut, like I’d just realized the huge mistake I’d made.

Grant gave me an evil grin. “You know, you’re absolutely right. It would be better if I practiced on someone else first—you, Lila. After all, your sight Talent will let me see all of Devon’s suffering in supersharp detail. And won’t that be so much more fun?”

I made my eyes bulge as wide as they would go and started thrashing against my bonds, as though I were completely terrified. Not too hard to do. At the very least, I was moderately terrified.

I didn’t want my Talent to be ripped out of me, and not just because it would kill me. My soulsight and transference power were as much a part of me as my mind, body, and heart were. I didn’t want to lose them because I didn’t know who I was without them.

But it had to be this way. Because I had to break free of my bonds if I had any chance of saving myself, much less Devon, and there was only one way to do that.

“Oh yes,” Grant purred. “This will be so much better. And Devon will get to see exactly what I have in store for him.”

“Mm!” Devon tried to yell through the tape over his mouth. “Mm-mmm!”

He tried to get loose, but the heavy ropes bound him too tightly to the chair, and all he could do was strain and strain against them and go nowhere. Our eyes locked, and his cold despair punched me straight in the heart.

But I forced myself to look away from Devon and focus on Grant, who was swaggering toward me. He slashed the dagger through the air again, and I couldn’t stop myself from shivering. So maybe I was a little more than just moderately terrified, but I’d planted the idea in his head and now I had to use it to my advantage—or die trying.

Grant stopped in front of me. I started struggling, even going so far as to kick out at him with my legs. Of course, he easily sidestepped my clumsy blow. He jerked his head at the two men still standing behind him.

“Hold her still,” he said. “I don’t want any mistakes.”

The men came to stand on either side of me. They clenched their hands around my upper arms, using their strength Talents to hold me in place. I waited a second, then strained my hands against my bonds. Nothing happened. The men weren’t using enough of their magic on me to get my own transference power to kick in. Not nearly enough.

So I started struggling again, bucking and heaving and thrashing with all my might. The men easily subdued me, but I kept fighting. And finally—finally—I felt that first faint chill of magic deep in the pit of my stomach.

I just hoped it would be enough to save me.

The men tightened their grips so much that their fingers pressed against my bones. I couldn’t move a muscle—not a single one—but that chill slowly began to grow colder and colder, morphing into something more, something greater. I had to draw this out for as long as possible.

Grant stopped in front of me, and my gaze locked onto the dagger in his hand. It was an ashy black, just like my mom’s sword, although the edges glinted, thanks to the lone light burning above. Black blades were unbelievably sharp, with the sort of keen edges that would filet you like a fish. And you wouldn’t even feel the wound until it was too late—and your guts were spilling everywhere.

Grant grinned when he realized that I was staring at the dagger. “Do you know why they call them black blades?”

I didn’t answer because I already knew. My mom had told me all about black blades and how dangerous they could be.

His grin widened. “Because the more blood you get on them, the blacker the blade turns. I’ve always wanted to find out if that was really true. Now, I finally have my chance, thanks to you, Lila.”