Chapter 10
Xari set her new hair butter on the nightstand before stepping toward the mirror by the window. Now that the adrenaline of the makeover had faded, she stared at her reflection, her expression unreadable. A flicker of embarrassment stirred in her stomach—she wasn't used to drawing attention, and this would certainly do just that.
The soft creak of the door behind her made her heart flutter.
Ashur leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his sharp, calculating eyes flickering over her. He didn't speak right away, just took in the change with an unreadable expression.
Xari braced herself. She knew Ashur well enough to expect teasing.
"Did you lose a fight?" he asked, amusement laced in his voice. "Or did someone finally convince you to care about your appearance?"
Xari huffed, turning away from the mirror. "Funny ."
Still, Ashur kept looking—longer than usual. There was something behind his gaze. Not quite shock, not quite approval… interest.
"Seriously, though." He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "What happened to this?" He reached out, fingers grazing a fresh curl that framed her face, then pulled away just as quickly.
Xari smirked, tilting her head. "Neve introduced me to her beautician."
Ashur blinked. "Huh." He crossed his arms again, nodding slightly. "Didn't think you'd let anyone touch your hair."
"Yeah, well." Xari exhaled, feeling the weight of the day settle in—not in a bad way, just in a way that felt... different. "Guess I needed a change."
A pause stretched between them. The room felt smaller, filled with something unspoken.
Then, quietly, Ashur said, "It suits you."
Xari glanced at him, caught off guard. A strange warmth spread in her chest. Ashur didn't do compliments—not unless they were wrapped in sarcasm or meant to throw someone off balance. But this? This was sincere.
Before she could think of a response, Ashur turned toward the window, glancing out at the streets below, now bathed in the golden sunset. "Well," he said, his voice shifting back to something familiar, "if you're done playing dress-up, I wanted to talk to you."
And just like that, reality pulled her back in.
"About?" Xari crossed her arms, forcing her voice steady. But she couldn't slow the quickening of her pulse, and the hope that he was not going to mention the night before.
Still watching the streets below, her friend ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I'm still stuck on something Neve mentioned last night, after we left the docks." Uh oh, here it comes. "She said something about… your bond. To Zara." Ashur turned toward Xari now, his face grim. "Xari, what was she talking about?"
Xari blanched. She did not want to have this conversation right now. Not today, when she had actually, finally, felt like herself for once. And she tried not to acknowledge the tide of disappointment that washed over her. A small part of her hoped that Ashur seeing her, the new and improved Xari, would spark a more intimate conversation.
She swallowed that feeling down. Letting out a heavy, shaky sigh, Xari turned her head to the window. "Zara is my birth mother. I can't really tell you how I know, I just do. She's the one who's been controlling my visions all these years. And when we were at the docks, and heard those Venatori talking about the lyrium, and Zara… it's not a coincidence, Ashur." She now turned to look at him, her brows furrowed. "I saw her. The lyrium, her acolytes, Zara… it was her. The same voice that's been calling to me. She called me Kaelira. I think— I think that's my birth name."
Ashur blinked. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. His face didn't shift—not in shock, not in anger—but she could feel the weight of his thoughts, the gears turning in his mind.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, measured. "Your mother."
Xari nodded, her hands clenching at her sides.
Ashur exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. " Zara Renata… is your mother. Okay. So she created a bond with you? How?"
Xari groaned, childlike, holding her head in her hands. Revisiting the details of this was exhausting. "I had a dream recently, of me when I was born. Zara was performing some kind of ritual, using my blood. She was connecting me to her, using me to make her more powerful, or something like that. But the ritual was interrupted, and that's when my parents found me. The bond still happened, though. I guess, just not to the extent Zara intended."
Ashur didn't react right away. His expression remained unreadable, but Xari knew him well enough to recognize the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped once against his arm before stilling.
When he finally spoke, it wasn't what she expected. "Does she have control over you?"
Xari stiffened. The question was unexpected, sending a chill down her spine.
"No," she said quickly. Too quickly.
Ashur's eyes snapped to hers, sharp and searching.
"I mean… I don't think so," she amended, gritting her teeth. She thought back to the night when she had painted the serpents on her canvas, unwillingly, during one of the visions. I'm not telling anyone about that. "I feel her, Ashur. Like a shadow at the edge of my mind." Her throat tightened. "And I think she's waiting."
Ashur's jaw clenched. "For what?"
Xari hesitated. The words felt heavy, like saying them aloud would give them more power than she wanted them to have. But she needed to say them out loud.
"To find her." The admission sent a chill down her spine. "I think—no, I know—Zara wants me to join her.
Ashur's hand twitched, like he wanted to grab her, shake some kind of certainty out of her. Instead, he ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "This isn't something we can ignore, Xari."
She bristled. "You think I want to ignore it?"
"I think you don't want to face what it could mean," Ashur shot back.
Xari flinched.
His expression softened just a fraction, but his voice stayed firm. "We have to figure this out. Before she does."
She bristled. "What do you think I've been trying to do, Ashur? I haven't really had much to go by! I just learned about this bond thing a few days ago!"
His voice sharpened, and for the first time, emotion cracked through his usually controlled expression. "Zara Renata is one of the most dangerous people in the Imperium, and you—" He cut himself off, exhaling harshly before running a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Xari."
She crossed her arms tighter, her defenses snapping into place like instinct. "What do you want me to say? That I just found out? That I barely understand it myself? That I didn't want to see that look on your face?"
Ashur's jaw tightened. "What look?"
"Like you're trying to decide whether you still trust me."
Silence.
His gaze held hers, sharp and unrelenting, as if he could extract the truth just by looking hard enough.
Then, after what felt like forever, he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "That's not what this is."
Xari hesitated. "Then what is it?"
Ashur exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now. "I'm trying to figure out what this means—for you. And for the Shadow Dragons."
She dropped her gaze, staring at the floor. "Mae suspended me from missions. Cut off my best shot at getting answers. At finding a way to sever this bond." Her fingers dug into her arms. "I don't know what to do next."
Ashur inhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate, before exhaling. When he spoke, his voice was steady, resolute. "We're Shadow Dragons, Xari. We don't do this alone."
Xari blinked at him. " We ?"
A ghost of a smirk flickered across his face—so quick she almost missed it. "You think I'm letting you handle this by yourself?"
Something in her chest eased, just a fraction.
But then Ashur's expression hardened again. "We need to figure out how to break this bond."
Xari swallowed. "Yeah."
Because as much as she hated to admit it, she could feel it—time was running out.
"I'll do what I do best—gather information. And Neve will help. But what we can't do—" his expression darkened, his voice laced with warning, "is draw attention to ourselves. Not from Mae or Dorian. Not from Zara. Not from anyone." His gaze locked onto hers, steady and unyielding. "That means we act like nothing's changed. Like nothing is going on. Do you understand me?"
Xari held his gaze, her eyes wide, searching his face for any crack in his resolve. But Ashur remained steady—unshaken, determined.
Swallowing, she nodded.
Ashur studied her for a beat longer, as if assessing whether she truly meant it. Then, satisfied, he gave a curt nod. "Good." He turned back toward the window, his fingers drumming idly against the frame. "I'll start digging tonight. See if there's any mention of blood magic bonds, rituals—anything that could tell us what Zara did to you." His jaw clenched briefly. "And how to undo it."
Xari exhaled through her nose. "And I'll talk to Neve. See what else she knows."
"Carefully," Ashur warned, shooting her a look. "No one else can know about this."
Xari rolled her eyes. "I know." But she understood the weight behind his words. If Mae or Dorian found out, they'd shut her out for good. Or worse—see her as a liability. And the Venatori… if they discovered her?
She didn't want to think about that.
The room fell into silence, tense but unspokenly united.
After a moment, Ashur pushed off the window frame, stretching his arms over his head with a sigh. "Alright. You should get some rest." His tone had shifted back to something more familiar—lighter, though still carrying an edge of concern.
Xari huffed. "You're the one who showed up in my room at this hour."
Ashur smirked. "And now I'm leaving." He stepped toward the door but paused just before crossing the threshold. "We'll figure this out, Xari."
She wanted to believe that.
As the door clicked shut behind him, she stared at the space he'd just occupied, her chest fluttering.
We have to.
Vyrantium, Tevinter Imperium
The scent of copper filled the chamber, thick and cloying. Steam curled from the obsidian basin, where dark crimson swirled in lazy spirals, the surface disturbed only by the occasional ripple of unseen forces. Zara Renata stood at the edge, her maroon silk robe slipping from her shoulders, pooling at her feet like a discarded offering. The candlelight cast flickering shadows across her bare skin, tracing the sigils carved into the marble floor—a language older than the empire itself.
She stepped into the bath, her breath steady despite the sharp contrast between warmth and the cold weight of death that clung to the liquid. As she submerged herself, the blood embraced her, thick and viscous, sliding over her skin like a second layer of flesh. Power hummed beneath the surface, responding to her presence, recognizing her as its conduit.
Each month at first dusk, the ritual was repeated. It must be. Not just her youth– her power, the very essence of her life and mana– depended on it.
But gathering enough sacrifices was not an easy task. They had to be virgin, pure. Zara could not simply order her acolytes to snatch every prospect off the street, it would be too obvious. This is why the red lyrium needed to be harvested. Refined properly, it would serve as a conduit, amplifying the ritual's effects while reducing the need for frequent sacrifices. A necessary balance.
Her gaze flickered to the sigils carved into the stone walls, each one a tether anchoring her to the power she had cultivated for decades. They would hold—for now. But the connection she sought, the true power she was meant to wield, required more..
Closing her eyes, Zara whispered the incantation, her voice weaving through the silence like a serpent through tall grass. The blood stirred, coiling around her limbs, seeping into her pores, threading through her veins like a lover's embrace. A shudder passed through her as the energy of the virgin sacrifices surged within her, raw and potent.
Beneath her closed lids, her eyes twitched as the magic took hold. One by one, the fine lines on her forehead smoothed, the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes fading into nothing. The liver spots on her hands vanished, her skin tightening with youth. Stray silver strands darkened, returning to the inky black of her prime. Power coiled in her core, igniting every nerve, humming at the edge of her lips and fingertips.
Zara's fingers twitched, and the blood around her stirred in response, the energy within it pulsing like a heartbeat. Time was running out. The whispers had grown more insistent, pressing against the edges of her mind with an urgency she could no longer ignore.
The bond was incomplete.
Kaelira.
A smile curled her lips, sharp as a blade's edge.
The visions always led her back to the girl. A wayward ember, lost yet burning, resisting the inferno that had birthed her. Zara traced a finger through the blood, watching the patterns shift. There was still time. The girl could not outrun destiny forever.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Zara leaned back, allowing the blood to cradle her fully. The ritual was complete. The power within her settled, coalescing into something deep, patient, unyielding.
She would wait. And when the time was right, her daughter would join her.
And if she denied her fate?
She would bleed.
Xari gasped awake, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. The scent of blood clung to her senses, even though there was none in the room. It wasn't real. It was .
She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, willing the images away. The dark chamber. The sigils. Zara.
Her stomach twisted. The woman had been there—not just a memory, but something more. She could still feel the ghostly caress of the blood against her skin, a whisper of power curling in her veins, as if it had been meant for her.
Xari shoved the blankets off and stood, her pulse still hammering. She needed air. She needed to move.
More than that, she needed answers.
She threw on her boots and slipped out of her room, moving quickly and quietly through the corridors. Every instinct told her to keep to the shadows, to make herself unseen. If Mae or Dorian caught her sneaking around, she'd have to come up with a convincing excuse—and she wasn't sure she had one.
But she didn't care. She needed to talk to Neve.
If anyone could help her figure this out, it was her.
Neve's apartment wasn't far, just across the district of Dock Town, past the market. Xari took the long way, avoiding the more commonly used paths, slipping through gaps between buildings and ducking past candlelit walkways where night guards might still be lingering.
When she reached Neve's door, she hesitated for only a second before rapping her knuckles sharply against the wood.
No response.
Xari exhaled and knocked again, more insistent this time. Come on, Neve.
A muffled groan came from the other side, followed by the rustle of fabric. Moments later, the narrow slit in her door creaked open just enough to reveal a sleepy-eyed Neve, her dark waves a mess and her expression a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.
"Xari?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "What is—"
"I need your help."
Xari's tone caught Neve's attention, hesitating a moment before unlocking the door and opening it. "Come in."
Xari pushed past her into the apartment, Neve shutting the door behind them. "It happened again."
Neve sighed, already moving to light a lantern. "I have a feeling I'm not going back to sleep, am I?"
Xari shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. But I have no one else." Her voice was low, weary.
The mage studied her, concerned. "Zara?"
Xari did not respond, keeping her eyes on the floor, an unspoken answer.
Neve inhaled sharply, the last remnants of sleep fading from her eyes. "Shit," she muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair. "What did you see this time?"
Xari exhaled slowly, forcing herself to meet Neve's gaze. "She was bathing. In…" her words caught like vomit in her throat, but she forced them out. " Blood. I felt it, on my skin, I– it's like I was her, like I was the one in the blood bath. I heard her thoughts. She sacrifices virgins for her sick rituals. For her twisted fucking vanity , and her power. But she's behind the red lyrium harvesting. She wants to use it to replace the sacrifices. Neve, she…" She felt sick. "She wants me to join her."
Neve blanched, her fingers tightening around the lantern's handle. "She's getting stronger," she said, voice low, urgent. "That's why you felt so close to her. If she uses enough lyrium…" Neve turned, already moving. She grabbed a book from her cluttered desk, flipping through the brittle pages with practiced ease.
Xari sat on a nearby chair, feeling faint. She watched the mage, her expression darkening. "What happens if she uses enough lyrium, Neve?"
Neve paused, her fingers brushing over the pages with growing urgency. Her face was pale, and Xari could see the weight of her thoughts settling in. She didn't answer immediately, as if she were trying to work through the implications herself.
Finally, Neve spoke, her voice quiet but intense. "If she uses enough lyrium to amplify her magic… it won't just tether you to her—it could possess you. The bond could become more than just a link between you both. It could consume you."
Xari felt her stomach twist at the implication. "Consume me?" she echoed, a cold sweat breaking out across her skin.
Neve nodded, her eyes not leaving the pages in front of her. "Blood magic is dangerous, especially when amplified by lyrium. If she gets her hands on enough of it, she might be able to control you completely—pull you into her web, make you do her bidding without you even knowing it. She could break you down piece by piece."
Xari's fists clenched in her lap. "I won't let that happen."
Neve finally looked up, her gaze steady. "You can't stop it on your own, Xari. You'll need a way to sever the connection. Completely. Before it reaches that point."
Xari took a deep breath, feeling the weight of those words settle heavy in her chest. "Then we need to find a way, Neve. And fast."
"I'm a private investigator, Xari. I'm not a blood magic scholar." The words came out harsher than intended. She exhaled, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I know how important this is. I'll see what I can find out. But first," she pushed up from her chair, heading toward the kitchen— "I need tea."
Xari watched Neve, a flicker of amusement mixed with the tension in her chest. Despite the urgency, the sight of Neve's frustration was oddly grounding. "Yeah, I think we both need that," Xari muttered, rubbing her temples.
Neve busied herself in the small kitchen, the clink of the teacup breaking the silence between them. Xari's mind was still racing—Zara, the ritual, the blood magic, the lyrium—it was all tangled together, a mess of terror and urgency she couldn't escape.
Neve returned moments later with two steaming cups, setting one down in front of Xari. She slid into a chair across from her, staring into her own tea as if it held some answers.
Xari took a slow sip, the warmth settling into her chest, though it did little to calm the storm inside her. "I need to get to Zara before she finishes whatever she's planning. She wants me for something—needs me." She stopped, swallowing hard. "I can't let her control me."
Neve's gaze softened, her lips pressing together in a tight line. "We won't let that happen," she said quietly.
Xari shook her head, more to herself than Neve. "I don't know how much time we have."
Neve's voice was firm as she spoke next, a note of determination in her tone. "Then we'll make time. I'll dig through every book and contact I have. We'll figure this out." She paused, looking up at Xari. "You're not alone in this. I don't care what Mae or Dorian say; as far as I'm concerned, they don't have to know about any of this."
Xari gave a tight nod, feeling the warmth of the tea slip down her throat. Despite the fear that clenched at her gut, the weight of Neve's words gave her a sliver of hope. It was a dangerous hope, but it was something she hadn't allowed herself in a long time.
"Ashur's doing what he can, as well," Xari said, her voice steady now. "But if this leads to danger– I'm not gonna let you guys get hurt for me."
Neve's eyes narrowed, her expression hardening as she leaned forward. "Don't even start with that. You're not the only one who has a stake in this, Xari," she shot back, the fire in her voice clear.
Xari looked at her, guilt creeping up her spine. "I know, but—"
Neve held up a hand, cutting her off. "No. If Zara's after you, then she's after all of us. This is bigger than just you or me. So, don't you dare push us away." Her gaze softened for a brief moment, and she leaned back in her chair. "We're a team. Don't forget that."
Xari swallowed, the tight knot in her chest loosening just a fraction. "I won't forget. But still, I can't let anyone else suffer because of me."
Neve gave her a hard look. "Then we'll make sure that doesn't happen. Together." She paused for a moment, her gaze flicking to the door as though she was mentally tracking the dangerous path ahead. "But if you're really serious about stopping her... we need to figure out exactly what Zara is planning. The sooner we do that, the better. I'll talk to Mae and Dorian. They're already setting up an operation to Vyrantium to intercept the lyrium shipments. We know that's where Zara is, but that's about it. I'll be bringing them what I find out about her whereabouts. But Xari," her gaze bore into Xari, unyielding, like a lecturing mother, "you cannot try and follow us."
Xari's heart sank at the warning, her instincts screaming to argue, but she forced herself to stay still. She could feel the weight of Neve's words pressing down on her, the unspoken danger hanging in the air.
"I know what Mae said," Xari said, her voice quieter than she intended, but the edge of defiance still lingered beneath it. "But I can't sit this out. If Zara's in Vyrantium—"
Neve shook her head, cutting her off. "You don't get it, Xari. You're too close to Zara. If you go there now, it'll be like walking into her trap willingly. Don't be foolish. You'll jeopardize yourself and the team." She sighed, her shoulders slumping for a moment before she met Xari's gaze again, her expression softer but still firm. "I'll handle this. You've already been through enough. Let us do our part now."
Xari wanted to argue. She wanted to throw herself back into the fight, be the one to take the risk, to prove she wasn't afraid. But Neve was right. It wasn't just her life at stake anymore.
Taking a deep breath, Xari nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. You'll handle it. But you'd better not let anything happen to you or Ashur, or I'll—"
Neve held up her hand with a smirk, cutting her off. "We'll be fine. Just focus on keeping yourself safe for once. We're all in this together, remember?"
Xari gave her a tight smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She wanted to believe that, to trust that they could handle this. But the storm of uncertainty swirling inside her refused to let go.
Still, she forced herself to nod.
Neve didn't say anything more, but the way she looked at Xari—more concerned than anything else—spoke volumes. Xari couldn't help but feel the weight of the unspoken between them.
Xari paced the length of her quarters, her boots striking the wooden floor with sharp, rhythmic taps. The safehouse felt suffocating, the walls closing in on her as her thoughts raced. The tension of waiting gnawed at her, and the stillness of the room only seemed to amplify the noise in her mind. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand being left out, being told to stay behind like a child.
Neve and Ashur were out gathering intel, working to piece together whatever scraps of information they could find on Zara's hideout in Vyrantium, and any knowledge of blood bonds. The weight of the unknown pressed on her chest, making it harder to breathe. Zara was too close. She had to act, had to do something—anything. She was no stranger to danger, no stranger to moving in the shadows, and she refused to sit idly by while her enemy closed in.
Her eyes drifted to the small window in the corner, the pale moonlight casting faint shadows across the room. Despite everyone's warnings, she had every intention of going to Vyrantium. The question wasn't if —it was how . And that's where Corin came in.
She gritted her teeth, a surge of resolve running through her. Corin, with his noble status, could get her a boat—one that would sail under cover of night, slipping past the eyes of the Shadow Dragons and any other obstacles they might encounter. It wouldn't be easy. It might cost a favor, or maybe more, but she'd figure that out later. He owed her, after all. And Xari was not going to let the people she cared about risk everything while she stayed safely in the shadows.
Her fingers clenched at the thought. She knew Maevaris and Dorian were already making plans, assembling an agenda for the mission, but they would never take her with them. Not with her visions and the bond with Zara so unpredictable. And that, more than anything, was what made Xari burn with the need to act.
She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, making up her mind. She couldn't wait for Ashur and Neve to return. She needed to speak to Corin now .
Xari's heart pounded as she stood in the dim entryway of Corin's estate.
His expression was guarded, a far cry from the easy smiles of their youth. The air between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words.
But Xari didn't have time for pleasantries.
"Corin," she began, voice low but firm, "I need a favor. A big one."
He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. "Xari, what kind of favor?"
"I need a boat," she said quickly, before he could press further. "Tonight. Under the cover of darkness."
His gaze flickered, hesitation creeping into his features. "Vyrantium? That's a dangerous place, even for you."
"I don't have a choice," she shot back.
She saw the doubt in his eyes. The reluctance. She understood it.
"Corin, please." Her voice softened. "I need this. If you care about me—even a little—you'll help me."
Silence stretched between them, thick and weighted.
Then Corin sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Fine. I'll make the arrangements. But Xari—" his voice dropped, his expression darkening—"if you get yourself killed, I'll never forgive you."
Xari gave a tight, almost-smile. "I won't get caught. You have my word."
He didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "Be at the docks by eight."
Xari turned to leave, already planning her next move.
But before she reached the door, she hesitated.
"Corin…" she said quietly. "Thank you."
For a moment, their eyes met—just a glimpse of something old, something unspoken.
Then it was gone.
He nodded once. "Go."
Xari stepped back into the city, the weight of her next move pressing down on her.
No turning back now.
Xari stepped out into the cool afternoon air, pressing her lips into a thin line. The weight of her promise to Corin settled on her shoulders, but she pushed it aside. She wouldn't fail this time. Zara had made her move. Now it was Xari's turn.
She slipped back into the safehouse, sneaking into her room undetected. Now, all she could do was wait—for Neve and Ashur, for whatever information they uncovered. And yet, she already knew the truth. Sometimes, waiting was worse than walking straight into danger. The unknown gnawed at her, an incessant hum in the back of her mind.
A sharp knock at the door cut through her thoughts.
Xari stiffened, shoving her unease aside as she moved toward it.
When she opened it, a stranger stood in the hallway—a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in the unmistakable armor of an Imperial Templar. His face was sharp, framed by a well-kept, pointed beard. He had the composed stillness of someone accustomed to dangerous situations. But it was his cloak—deep, midnight blue—that set her teeth on edge. Shadow Dragon. One of Maevaris's elite.
The man inclined his head slightly. "Xari Mercar." His voice was low, firm. "Maevaris has assigned me to accompany you. I'm Tarquin—your personal guard."
The words struck like a blow.
The audacity.
Maevaris had hired a glorified babysitter? For her? Xari opened her mouth to protest, but Tarquin raised a hand, cutting her off before she could get a word out.
"You can be upset," he continued, his voice calm, unreadable. "But Maevaris's orders are clear. You are not to leave the city until this mission is over."
Xari clenched her jaw. "I don't need a babysitter," she shot back, irritation bleeding into her voice. "I can handle myself."
Tarquin didn't flinch. "Maevaris didn't assign me to babysit." His tone remained measured, even. "She assigned me to keep you alive." He let the words settle between them, his gaze steady. "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. Your choice."
Xari narrowed her eyes, her pulse quickening. She was used to being in control, used to working alone—even when she didn't want to. But something in the certainty of Tarquin's voice made her pause. Just another roadblock.
She exhaled sharply, stepping back to let him in. "Fine. But I'm not going to like it."
"I don't expect you to," he said simply, stepping inside. "But that's not why I'm here."
Xari folded her arms. "So what now? You hover over me while I sulk in my room?"
Tarquin barely glanced at her, his sharp eyes scanning the map spread across her desk. "Frankly, I don't care what you do." He turned back to her. "My job is simple—make sure you don't leave Minrathous."
Silence stretched between them.
Xari's mind ran in a dozen directions, but every path led to the same truth: Zara's moves were accelerating. The visions. The magic. It was all building toward something she wasn't ready to face.
But it didn't matter, did it?
Zara's pawns were shifting into place.
And Xari refused to be one of them.
The weight of Tarquin's presence pressed against her, a constant reminder of her confinement. But she refused to let it rattle her. She had bigger problems than the ever-watchful eyes of Maevaris's handpicked guard.
As if on cue, footsteps echoed down the hall. Ashur and Neve entered the room, their expressions tight. Xari's eyes flicked between them, her instincts screaming that something was wrong.
Ashur's brow was furrowed, his movements controlled. Too controlled.
Neve's usual calm was strained, her gaze flicking once toward Tarquin before snapping back to Xari.
They couldn't speak freely. Not with him here.
Ashur kept his voice low. "We'll tell you everything when we get back from Vyrantium." His eyes darted to Tarquin, then back to Xari.
Xari clenched her fists, frustration burning in her chest. "Right," she muttered, voice heavy with the weight of what she couldn't say. Being kept in the dark wasn't just frustrating—it was dangerous. But with Tarquin standing guard, she had no choice.
Neve gave her a reassuring nod, her quiet strength grounding Xari despite the tension. "It won't be long. We'll be back before you know it."
Xari met Neve's gaze, offering a tight, determined smile. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it together, but she would.
For the team.
For herself.
"Just hurry," Xari said. "And be careful."
The team's departure came sooner than Xari expected. Their movements were swift, deliberate, as they gathered their gear and slipped into the night.
Xari stood at the window, watching them disappear. Ashur was the last to fade into the darkness, his broad shoulders steady until even he was swallowed by shadow.
Unease curled in her stomach.
It was all happening too fast. Zara's plans were moving. And Xari was no closer to stopping them.
Turning from the window, she caught Tarquin watching her from the hallway, his expression unreadable.
Maevaris really thought this would work? That some stranger could keep her contained?
She almost laughed.
Tarquin didn't know her at all.
The sun was setting, which meant the boat Corin had arranged would be waiting soon.
Clearing her throat, she strode toward the door, glancing back just enough to flash a smirk. "I'm not about to stay locked inside all night. I'm starving." She pushed the door open. "Try to keep up, yeah?"
The streets of Minrathous were alive with movement, the city shifting into its nocturnal rhythm. Lanterns flickered to life, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Vendors called out prices, and the scent of roasted meat mingled with the sharper bite of spice.
Tarquin followed close behind, silent as a second shadow.
Xari kept her steps casual, her pace unhurried, as if she really were just looking for a late meal. Not planning her escape.
But she could feel it—the moment approaching.
The market was the perfect cover.
Lanterns glowed warm against the stalls. Music floated through the streets, a pulsing heartbeat of drums and flutes.
Now.
She turned her head slightly, just enough to check Tarquin's position. He trailed a few paces behind, watching the crowd, not her.
Good.
Taking a steady breath, she slipped into a narrow alley between two stalls. Her heart pounded, but her steps remained light, measured. She weaved through shadowed streets, moving quickly, efficiently. Tarquin wouldn't expect it—he thought she'd be predictable.
The alley opened into a small square, where street performers had drawn a crowd. The music swelled, loud enough to cover the sound of her movements.
Perfect.
She slipped into the mass of people, weaving through the tight spaces, keeping her body angled to avoid detection.
At the far end of the square, the narrow path toward the docks beckoned.
Her escape was waiting.
But first, she had to lose Tarquin.
Without hesitation, she ducked into a nearby stall, fingers grazing a beaded necklace as if she were browsing. Then, in one smooth motion, she slipped behind the merchant's display and into another alley, vanishing from sight.
She moved with practiced ease, each step deliberate as she maneuvered through the winding streets. The moon hung low, offering just enough light to see but not enough to betray her.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Footsteps.
Not rushed, but relentless.
Tarquin.
He wasn't giving up easily.
Her pulse quickened.
She took another sharp turn, then another, her movements controlled but quick. The scent of salt in the air told her she was close.
Then—silence.
The streets were too still.
Every sound felt magnified—the distant rustle of fabric, the flap of wings overhead, the beat of her own heart.
Something wasn't right.
Xari slowed, pressing her back against the cold stone of a nearby building, forcing herself to listen.
The docks were close. Too close.
She exhaled through her nose, steadying her pulse. Then she moved.
The boat sat low in the water, shrouded in shadow. At first glance, it looked like any other merchant vessel—plain, unassuming. But something was wrong.
The silence.
No shouted orders. No scurrying deckhands.
As Xari stepped onto the wooden planks, the creak of her boots felt deafening. The crew lingered near the mast, stiff, their movements too controlled. Their gazes flicked toward her, brief but assessing. Calculating.
Not sailors.
Soldiers.
Xari's stomach clenched. Her fingers twitched toward the dagger at her waist, but she forced herself to keep still. Not yet.
She walked further onto the deck, senses sharpened, cataloging every oddity—the unnatural stillness, the low murmurs of a conversation she wasn't meant to hear, the deliberate way the men avoided looking at her directly.
Then she saw it.
A symbol, barely visible in the dim lantern glow. Embroidered onto the crew's garments.
Serpents.
A chill crawled up her spine.
Her heart pounded as she scanned the crew again. Their rigid postures. The quiet coordination. The weight of something unspoken pressing down on the deck like a held breath.
She had been wrong.
This wasn't a transport ship.
It was a trap.
Xari swallowed against the rising panic, keeping her expression neutral. No sudden movements. No sign of weakness.
She spotted a man near the main mast, taller than the others, his stance unnervingly still. His gaze wasn't on her—it was fixed straight ahead, as if waiting for something.
Something inevitable.
Xari stepped closer, forcing casual confidence into her voice. "Where's the captain?"
The man turned slowly, his expression unreadable. His eyes flickered over her—too quick—before dropping away. Avoidance.
Xari didn't like it.
"Everything is as it should be," he said, his tone too smooth, too rehearsed. "Zara has planned for your arrival."
The name hit like a blow to the chest.
Xari went rigid, a cold wave rolling through her veins. Her mind screamed at her to move, to run, but it was too late.
She turned sharply, eyes sweeping the deck. The crew moved with careful precision, the ropes already untethered, the sails unfurling.
The ship was leaving.
The city—the docks—fading into the distance.
No more slipping away in the chaos. No more last-minute escapes.
Her voice was steady, but barely. "What do you mean by that?"
The man didn't flinch. His gaze remained slightly averted, his lips barely curving into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"The ritual awaits."
The words sent ice through her bloodstream.
Xari's breath hitched. The world tilted, her pulse roaring in her ears as realization crashed into her.
This wasn't freedom.
This wasn't escape.
This was a coffin.
Zara had planned every step.
Xari had walked right into it.
Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Through the fog of panic, she glanced back at the shore—one last desperate look.
A figure stood at the edge of the boardwalk, watching.
Tarquin.
The sight of him, unmoving, growing smaller with every second, sent a fresh spike of dread through her chest.
She spun back to the man at the mast, her voice sharp, demanding. "How did you know I'd be here?"
No response.
His silence was heavier than words, and it made her stomach churn.
Her fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger. "Who told you?"
Still, nothing.
Then—finally—his lips parted, and the faintest whisper of amusement laced his words.
"Zara knows all."
The final piece of the puzzle fell into place, and it made her sick.
Xari's throat tightened. Had Corin known? Had he been part of this? No. He wouldn't—he couldn't—
Would he?
A surge of fury ignited in her chest, burning through the betrayal.
Her dagger was in her hand before she fully registered drawing it, her arm swinging in one clean, practiced motion toward the man's throat.
She never made contact.
Pain—blinding, searing—exploded through her skull.
A crack of impact. A shock down her spine.
Her body locked, then crumpled.
Darkness swallowed her whole.