The Shadow Princess (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 6)

The words seem to bounce around and echo off the inside of my skull and I’m not confident they went anywhere that Amell could hear me.

Archer walks around me, and I’m only able to lift my head to follow his movements.

One stone is placed above my head, a good ten feet away, the next one off to the side at the same distance, and my arm flings out toward it as if being pulled by its power. Archer moves to my feet and as he places the stones, my legs stretch outward toward them until they ache. On the other side, the last pyrite is laid, and my arm shoots out, as if attracted to a magnet.

The stones have me splayed out on the stone floor, and I turn my head to see Archer walking back up to Ferelith, an eager expression on his face. “What else might I do for you?” he asks.

Ferelith leans in and places a chaste kiss on his lips. Archer’s eyes flutter in rapture.

Before he opens them, she has her knife unsheathed and the point pressed under his jaw. Archer doesn’t move, merely stares at her in adoration.

“Turn and let your cousin see you,” Ferelith instructs, and he does as bid. Ferelith moves with him to keep the knife in place.

Bringing her gaze to me, she says, “This is absolute power, Thalia. Archer has been a good little lapdog for me, but I’d easily spill his blood to further my cause. His blood sacrifice will keep control over you while you’re my guest.”

“Guest,” I sneer, thankful my mouth is able to move. “I’m your prisoner, and I’d like to know what you’re going to do to me.”

“All in good time,” Ferelith demurs with a sly smile. “Rest assured, I have very important plans for you. You’re the final piece to my puzzle. But first, I need you leashed, and draining Archer’s blood will keep you firmly under my thumb. Those pyrite stones and the bit of blood I placed on your head won’t hold you forever.”

She presses the knife tip into Archer’s skin, and he hisses from the pain. A trickle of blood slips down the front of his throat, but he makes no effort to move away, even though she has no physical hold on him.

“As you can see,” Ferelith purrs, “he won’t fight me.”

“Please don’t,” I say, knowing that no matter what Archer has done, I don’t want him dead. Locked away in a cell forever, sure. But not dead.

“I’m curious as to the extent of your familial love,” Ferelith muses. “Would you trade your life for his, after his betrayal?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation, and it’s the only answer my heart can give.

Ferelith sneers at me. “You’d offer your blood willingly for this coward’s? For he surely wouldn’t do the same for you.”

The realization punches deep—she speaks the truth. But I stick to my morals and give a truth back. “I’d offer my blood willingly, no matter what he’s done.”

Ferelith tips her head back and laughs, the knife dropping from Archer’s neck. I sigh in relief but before I can empty my lungs, Ferelith lunges and drives the knife deep into the underside of Archer’s chin. The long blade slides upward, through his mouth and into the bottom of his brain.

“No!” I scream as Archer falls lifelessly to the floor. “Why would you do that? I offered my blood willingly.”

Ferelith saunters toward me, dropping the bloody knife. She playfully wags a finger. “Words can be tricky, Thalia. Especially when dealing with blood magic. Blood given willingly is incredibly powerful. It gives the other person power over the donor.”

“But I didn’t give my blood. You took his,” I point out.

“His blood is your blood,” she replies smugly. “It’s Clairmont blood, and you offered it to me of your own accord. Now I control you.”

“No,” I gasp, unwilling to believe such a thing.

“You may rise,” she says, and my body releases. “But you cannot walk out of the stone circle. You also will not be able to use your magic while in this circle.”

I test her word and push up from the floor. I call on my magic, trying to summon the biggest blast of energy I can muster. I even call again on the dark shadows within me, but they’re absolutely silent.

“Gods,” I murmur, staring helplessly at Archer’s body.

“If it helps,” Ferelith says, moving to the table to grab the spell book. “I don’t intend to kill you anytime soon.”

“What do you intend?” I ask.

“I will bleed you slowly and take your power as my own. With the Clairmont power, no one will be able to challenge me, and I’ll sit the throne without opposition. All other regions will fall into place and pledge allegiance. If they don’t, I’ll burn my enemies with just mere thoughts while I sit in my palace.”