Through it all, Rain had been there in her mind, telling her to stay strong, to be brave, not to give in. As if she, not he, were the one whose body was being shattered and maimed.

“You are a monster,” she told Vadim Maur.

“I am a Mage,” he countered. “And you can end this anytime you like. You know how. I will get what I want, one way or another. But how many of your loved ones die before that happens—how long they must writhe in agony—is entirely up to you.”

Her breath caught on a hiccuping sob.

“I ask you again, Ellysetta Baristani: Accept my Mark.” He gripped her head between his icy hands, and the oppressive weight of his Dark magic closed around her, trapping her, squeezing her soul in a vise.

“If you refuse me, your mate will die. When I am done with him, I will put his body on display in the Mage Halls and I will leave it there to rot. The great Rain Tairen Soul, Worldscorcher, Destroyer of Eld, food for maggots and rotworms.” Then his voice softened, became kind. “But if you submit to me, I will let you heal him. He will live. You can be with him. You can hold him in your arms. Take him into your body.”

The pressure of his will receded. Her mind filled with feelings of warmth and love. She could almost smell the fresh bloom of spring on the air, the intoxicating scent of Rain’s skin. She could almost feel his hands stroking across her body, hear her gasp as pleasure washed over her in waves.

Just as she began to reach for the sweet seduction of the dream, the Mage snatched it away. “But you can have that only when you give me what I want.”

«Nei, shei’tani.» Rain’s voice whispered on a ragged thread of Spirit. «Never. You mustn’t. Not for me…not for anyone…» Each syllable throbbed with pain.

“Every word you speak is a lie, Mage,” she rasped. “You’ll never let him live. And even if you did, he’d rather die than see me surrender my soul.”

“Perhaps, but can you bear to watch it? Can you let him die?” The Mage barked a command to Den, “Do it.”

“Nei!” Ellysetta screamed as Den pulled Rain’s head back and slashed a blade across his throat. Rain’s blood fountained in a scarlet mist.

On the pretext of serving food, Melliandra entered the level where Vadim Maur kept the magically gifted female prisoners he used in his breeding program. If Lord Death was successful, the High Mage would soon be dead. Melliandra intended to wait for that moment here, close to the warded corridor that led to the nursery where the Mage kept his program’s most promising offspring.

Moving as slowly as possible, she pushed her kitchen cart from cell to cell, opening them with the key the captain of the guard on this level had given to her. He was supposed to walk with her from room to room and watch her as she fed the female prisoners, but she always snuck him a treat from the kitchens and left him to eat it while she made her rounds.

When she reached the cell of the black-eyed shei’dalin she’d dragged with her weeks ago to save the life of Lord Death’s mate, her nerves were strung tight. The anxiety must have made her careless, because the shei’dalin stopped her at the door. “Sha de dai?“

“Is it time?” Melliandra repeated. “Time for what?”

“Dai ve heber eva bebahs.” She signed the words as she spoke them, poking a finger at Melliandra, rocking her arms in front of her body as if cradling a baby in arms, then walking her fingers. She looked intently at Melliandra, and said, “Ke am.” I know.

Melliandra felt her heart drop into her stomach. The shei’dalin knew what she was planning. Somehow, Melliandra had given her secret away. She cursed silently and berated herself for the questions she’d asked the other women—questions about how to tend babies. This shei’dalin must have overheard and realized what she was planning.

Determined to brazen it out, Melliandra snorted and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned away and reached for the door handle.

The shei’dalin caught Melliandra’s arm. “Teska. Ve ku’jian valir eva vo.” She pressed her lips together and tried broken Elden. “You… me… go… eva bebahs.” She rocked her cradled arms again.

“Are you saying you want me to take you with me?”

“Aiyah!“

Melliandra held up her hands. “No. I’m not going anywhere, but even if I were, I wouldn’t take you with me. No. No!” She pushed the shei’dalin’s hand off her arm. “You’re mistaken. Wrong. Neida. Do you understand? Ve sha neida.”

“Teska!” Though it must have hurt her terribly, the shei’dalin spun a Spirit weave showing Melliandra with a screaming baby, a sick baby, a hungry baby. Melliandra all alone, weeping beside a small mound of dirt. “Ke sha shei’dalin. Ke shaverr vo’vallaren.” I’m a shei’dalin. I can help you.

The images horrified Melliandra as much as the idea of having a healer to help with Shia’s son appealed, but she wouldn’t be swayed. “No,” she said again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not taking you anywhere.” She turned to leave. She had to get out of here.

“Wera!” Wait. “Teska, wera.”

The desperation in the shei’dalin’s voice made Melliandra stop. The black-eyed shei’dalin had been battered and raped for weeks on end, and never sounded so frantic as she did now.

Against her better judgment, Melliandra stood by the door and watched the shei’dalin kneel beside her bed. She lifted the edge of the pallet and reached inside a slit cut into the bottom of the pallet cover. A moment later she pulled out a small, bruised flower… actually, it was the whole flower plant: stem, leaves, roots as well as the distinctive, six-petaled bell-shaped starflowers.