And hunting me was exactly what Belanor had been doing all night.
He stood in front of an enormous window, holding the edge of a dagger to Finn’s throat. No doubt it had been soaked in holy water. The werewolf was in his human-shaped body, wearing identical scrubs to the ones I’d been put in. He knelt at Belanor’s feet, hands bound in front of him.
The sight of Finn on his knees made my power surge forward, snapping like jaws at cage bars. At least his body looked whole and healed. Although, in my case, that usually meant I’d been tortured beforehand. What had Finn endured because of me?
Blinking rapidly, I forced myself to search the area around him and Belanor, searching for Guardians or any indication of the trap he’d inevitably laid. But there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the library.
“Welcome, Miss Sworn. I’m so pleased you received my invitation,” Belanor said, his voice pleasant and polished. “The vampire is welcome, of course. It saves me the trouble of finding him later.”
At a glance, I could see the faerie prince was fully healed from our last encounter. Wearing a suit of pale blue and lacy sleeves, Belanor looked as collected as he had the day we’d met. His pale hair was gathered in a short, neat ponytail that gleamed. The sight of him was a reminder, as if I needed one, of how formidable the fae could be. I’d smashed Belanor’s skull into pieces—broken his elegant, burned face until it was unrecognizable, and there he stood as if nothing ever happened.
“Release my wolf. Right now. I won’t ask twice,” I said at last. The words were flat and brief.
I’d come here with the intention of stalling for time, as Laurie had instructed, but the sight of Belanor’s hands on Finn was repugnant. Suddenly I didn’t care about plans or strategies; I just wanted my friend’s freedom.
The silence stretched. Gil shifted beside me, as if he were physically restraining himself from rushing forward. I remembered the tortures Belanor had put him through alongside me. I’d been so focused on my own list of grievances that, somehow, I had forgotten Gil’s.
Seeing the black hatred in his eyes, it felt like Belanor’s crimes against the vampire transcended what I’d endured. Unlike my circumstances, there would be no reversing what Gilbert Payne had become. A deep, vital part of himself was gone forever, and I’d want revenge on the person responsible for that, too.
Fuck, I thought. I shouldn’t have insisted on taking him with me. Gil’s bloodlust, focused solely on Belanor now, could put Finn at risk. There were some gambles even I wasn’t willing to make. It was the only reason I hadn’t used my powers yet—in the time it took to get through Belanor’s mental defenses, he could drag that dagger across Finn’s throat.
While I tried to think of a way to get Gil out of here, the object of our loathing pretended to consider my command. In a silent taunt, Belanor moved the dagger so the tip balanced on the surface of Finn’s flesh. Then he tilted his head and asked, “Or what?”
Despite what I’d done to him, there was no trace of fear around the faerie prince. I studied his curious expression, and it hit me—Belanor wasn’t afraid because he didn’t view me as a threat. By some miracle, he truly thought I was still human. I’d been half-convinced he would guess the truth after I’d stomped on his head with a strength no true mortal would have.
If this fanatic knew I was fully healed, that my powers had been restored, he’d hunt me to the end of my days. Across every continent and through every crevice of the world. I would never be able to return to Granby or lead a normal life. Not to mention the price my family could potentially pay, as well, if Belanor decided to go after them.
I had to keep my powers secret. But how could I get us out of this without magic?
Use his weaknesses, someone instructed from inside my head—I knew right away that it was Oliver. I also knew that he wasn’t real, but hearing his voice steadied me, just as it always had. I released a brief, soundless breath and thought about what I’d learned in the weeks of being Belanor’s prisoner. What could be used against him?
Me, I thought.
Right now, I was Belanor’s biggest weakness. The realization triggered an image, and I recalled how the cherubim under the prince’s command had reacted to my ultimatum the night they came to Bea’s. I’d threatened to hurt myself, and like a spell, every one of them had followed my commands. We had stood in that ruined bar, facing each other across a battlefield of upturned chairs and blood.
Belanor was still waiting for a response.
Holding up one finger, I turned away from him and took stock of the rest of the room. As I hoped, there was a desk on the other side, bigger than a desk had any business being. I walked over to it, nudged the opulent chair aside, and opened the top drawer.
A letter opener rested in the center, atop a bed of green velvet. It looked like a miniature sword.
Keeping all expression from my face, I picked up the tiny weapon by its silver handle. I hid it in the folds of my skirt and crossed the room again. The clip of my heels against the floor sent echoes toward the vaulted ceiling, and the sound cut short every few yards when I walked on a rug.
I stopped at Gil’s side, exactly where I’d been standing before, and placed the edge of the letter opener against my throat.
“Or I’ll end this here and now,” I said calmly.
Gil and Finn spoke at once, their voices overlapping. I kept my eyes on Belanor, too focused on him to really hear what they were saying.
“Silence, pup,” he said, giving the werewolf a shake that made him flinch. My fingers tightened around the letter opener. Before I could threaten Belanor or demand Finn’s release again, he flashed a sardonic smile. “How delightfully dramatic. You really have been spending time in Laurelis’s company.”
I felt my lip curl. “How delightfully sexist. You really just assumed everything I do is because of a male. Now let Finn go, or you’ll have to remove me from this room in a body bag. If that happens, you’ll never know whether I was strong enough to survive your spell. Hey, you and Vulen never got to finish what you started—maybe forcing me to relive my worst memory was the torture that would’ve worked.”
My flippant tone belied my rolling stomach. To hide it further, I pressed the letter opener harder against my throat, drawing Belanor’s attention back to it. I was careful not to break skin, for Gil’s sake.
The Seelie Prince allowed another pause to hover between us, his expression caught halfway between disdain and admiration. “You claim to speak your own mind,” he said finally, “and yet it is my brother’s words that come out of your mouth. His cleverness. His arrogance.”
“No,” I said, my voice softer now. Not with rage or violence, but pain. I hoped Belanor misinterpreted it, because any glimpse of suffering would only bring him pleasure. I willed my heart to transform into concrete or metal. “They are my words. I am my own person, Belanor Dondarte. You tried to take that from me, and you failed.”
I could feel the intensity of Gil and Finn’s attention. I didn’t acknowledge either of them, legitimately worried that they’d take one look into my eyes and do something rash. The bond shimmered with everything Gil felt, and on the other side of it, darkness roiled.
“The night is not over yet,” Belanor reminded me. “Much can happen between now and the final bell toll.”