The head felt heavy in my hands and I looked underneath into the neck and saw that there was a wood handle that had been severed in two. I walked with confidence across the room, my shoes echoing across the stone floor. The mannequin was finely made. Someone had taken good care in making it as lifelike as possible. It was even dressed in a long green robe. I pulled the handle farther out of the head and jammed the stake into the body of the practice dummy, twisting and turning it as it slowly slid down. I had to stand on tiptoe as I spun the head around to face the front.

What I saw stopped me cold.

This dummy was not faceless. I had expected this one to be like those we’d used at the Citadel. But someone had taken the time to sew on a mouth and two silver coins for eyes. My hands started to shake as I stared at the face of the dummy. There was no mistaking his choice of coins for eyes. The silver was intentional. I swallowed nervously.

The hysterical laugh was the only warning I got as Tomac’s sword cut through the air.

I ducked and rolled. The sword missed my head by mere inches, re-decapitating the practice dummy. Only my roll didn’t go as well as I hoped, since my very long dress wrapped around my legs, hampering my escape. My heart was in my throat as I tried to scamper backwards on the floor and untangle my feet from the yards of material considered proper for a young woman. This dress would soon be the death of me.

Tomac danced around me on the floor, whooping and hollering to his own manic song. I kicked free of my dress and jumped up, running for the door. He flung a broken piece of chair across the floor at me and it rattled along and tripped me. My chin slammed into the floor first and pain raced up my jaw. Lights flickered painfully in my skull. I felt dizzy as I rolled over to my back, just as Tomac kneeled over me pinning me with his knees and body. One hand grasped me around the throat and his other arm rose high behind him, the sword tip at my throat. My hands wrapped around his hand and I worked on twisting it to release, but I couldn’t fight both the hand and the sword tip. I felt a prickle of pain and something wet pooled down my neck.

“Nighty-night, birdy. You will no longer plague my dreams.” His body weight lifted, and I knew he was about to plunge the sword into me.

I closed my eyes and relaxed, preparing myself for the pain that would inevitably come, followed by my death. Until I reminded myself that I was surrendering, and I don’t surrender.

Besides, Kael wouldn’t want me to. He would tell me to be strong. And I had to for him as well as myself. My death would leave him vulnerable.

I reached deep down in myself for the anger and rage at my situation. Right now I hated Tomac. Not as much him as what was done to him. This wasn’t his fault.

My body silently screamed with rage, focused not on Tomac but on the sword. Pain ripped through my body and I felt like I had been pierced, though the sword had not touched me. I let the pain flow through me and outward, focusing on the sharp blade only inches from me. Tomac hesitated for a second, and in that one pause I was able to push through the nothingness, the void, the shadows that were Sinnendor.

The sword cracked, just a single crack splintered up the side, but Tomac pulled back to look at the sword in puzzlement. It wouldn’t be enough to stop him. He just smiled and raised it again.

Now, I was beat, tired, and exhausted.

A roar ripped through the air as Sevril’s body flew into Tomac, knocking him to the ground. The sword still nicked me, but I was free. Hands gripped me under the arms and started to drag me backwards out of the room. I watched as Sevril had Tomac pinned to the ground, punching him again and again. The sword lay abandoned feet across the floor.

I lost sight of Sevril and his brother as someone pulled me out of the hall. Whoever had me stopped and then came to my side to pick me up.

Xiven. I couldn’t help but use what little physical energy I had left—

To slap him.

Chapter 26

“Ouch! What in heaven did you do that for?” Xiven grunted as he continued to keep a hurried pace as he jogged away from the hall where Sevril and Tomac were fighting.

“Put me down! Put me down before I kill you,” I seethed. His hands loosened and I dropped unceremoniously to the ground. My feet barely caught me.

“Now, Thalia! It’s not like you think. I mean…it is like you think, but really it’s not.”

“You work with Talbot. You’re part of the Septori,” my voice carried loudly and echoed. Xiven winced and looked around helplessly.

Feet pounded down the hall, and then an out of breath Sevril appeared. “Quick, let’s move her before Tomac gets up. I hit him hard, but he could wake up in a rage.”

“Where are the Elite when you need them?” I called out as I picked up my skirt and followed Sevril up a staircase and down to a landing. Xiven stayed right on my heels.

“They’ve learned not to deal in family affairs,” Sevril huffed as he continued to run. He went to the third door and pushed it open, waiting for us to pass through before he closed it. After locking it, he stepped away from it. After a second thought, Sevril pushed a large trunk in front of the door for added support.

I glanced around the room and was quickly able to deduce it was Sevril’s personal suite. A very large four-poster bed stood in the center of one wall, with curtains all around, drawn to keep the light out. A sizeable table covered with scrolls, quills, and journals was off to the side. Candleholders littered every space available with candles, long since burned out. A hefty plate filled with half-eaten food sat forgotten on a stool.

All of these were signs that Sevril probably slept through the day and spent many nights awake. Xiven ran his hands through his hair and took a deep relieved breath.

An animal-like scream erupted from the hall as a heavy body was thrown against the door, and Xiven jumped.

Laughter followed by a singsong voice carried through the thick wood. “Come out, come out! It’s time to play!”

I found myself stepping farther away from the door in terror, eyes glued to the rattling handle.

The pounding continued.

None of us spoke as we waited for Tomac to stop. It was a half candle mark later when we heard him call out to a passing servant.

“Hey, is that a cobbler I smell coming up from the kitchen?” Someone mumbled an answer. “It is? Oh boy! I love cobbler.” A few seconds passed and then he called out again to the servant. “You haven’t seen my brother, have you?”

Then we heard nothing.

“What was that?” I whispered, letting the fear show in my voice.

Sevril turned to look at me. “An episode. It seems that we all get moments of blackouts where we do terrible things and hardly remember them. It’s why we were desperate enough to turn to Xiven and the Horden journals for answers.”

Xiven moved forward, but I pointed my finger up at him. “Not you! You can sit over there, where I can see you. And you, Prince Sevril, can start at the beginning.”

Sevril looked taken aback, but he rubbed his chin and then asked. “Okay, so how much do you know about Sirens?”

“Gideon dumped that information on me a few hours ago. We’ve got Denai, Sirens, blah blah blah, and Sirens have no power and are going crazy. But that doesn’t explain what he’s doing here.” I pointed to Xiven again, who had moved the tray of food off of the stool and sat there, waiting patiently as instructed.