Everything. Anything. For you.

  And though the words are directed at another face, at another person entirely – they land perfectly with the wrong mark. Octavian goes stiff and then soft. He looks at the cave ahead again and presses his lips together. Then he shakes himself. He grabs Theo’s arm and turns them around.

  “What are you doing?” Theo asks. The world spins as they move.

  “There is something I forgot.”

  “And we have to return for it now?”

  “It’s important.”

  When another question loads itself on Theo’s lips, Octavian gives him a beseeching look. “Didn’t you just say you would trust me now?”

  Before Theo can reply, a wave of nausea grips him. He staggers, only held aloft by Octavian’s grip on his arm. Octavian doesn’t react to the misstep as he continues to drag Theo away.

  Distantly, the sound of footfalls and a low voice – a woman’s voice – reach Theo’s ears. He blinks, trying to organize his sluggish thoughts.

  “Did you hear that?” he asks.

  “Hear what?” Octavian replies. He glances down at Theo and his brow furrows, then he shakes his head. “I don’t hear anything, Theodori. You look unwell. We should return to the camp quickly.”

  “But my victory –”

  – and my prisoners.

  Once again, Evland Childes floats to the top of his thoughts like scum on a pond – like a drowning man surfacing from the ocean for air.

  “Your victory is assured,” Octavian says as he pulls Theo along. He casts a look over his shoulder and his jaw tightens as he increases his pace. “Your plan could use refinement, as always, but you moved well. You – we – finally impressed the Elders, Theodori. They thought we would fail, but we’ve proved them wrong, as always.”

  “Not as always,” Theo corrects.

  “We will turn our attention to the South next, Theodori. We will bring them and their demon princes down – I assure you, their heads will rot outside the borders of our kingdom. Together, we can make strides in this world. Already I’ve made sources, those we can turn to.” Octavian smiles, the expression small but victorious. “I’m so pleased, Theodori,” he continues. “I really wasn’t sure if we were going to make it…”

  He trails off, his pace not slowing as his words fade.

  “Of course we would win,” Theo says. Even his words sound strange to him, slightly slurred.

  “He distracted you. I thought – I was worried, oh, this is ridiculous.”

  “He?”

  “You were spending all of your days at his side, Theodori. What was I to think other than that you had lost yourself to lust or whatever it was – his beauty wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but lesser men have fallen prey to the enemy for such things in the past.”

  Theo’s thoughts slop about in his brain. “Octavian, what are you talking about?”

  “The Siacchian,” Octavian spits the words.

  Theo jerks to a halt. He draws himself to his full height – has he been hunching? Despite the tilt to the world and the strange blur at the edge of his vision, he meets Octavian’s gaze directly. “Evland Childes.”

  Octavian’s face goes still. His throat bobs. He seems to part his lips with effort as he says, “What?”

  “His name. His name is Evland Childes.”

  Octavian stares at Theo. He has such absolute control of his expressions; it has always been something Theo admired about him. When superiors would pull them aside and lecture them for their failures, Theo could never maintain the rage that sparked in his eyes or the exasperation that tugged at his lips, whereas Octavian looked like stone.

  Even now, as his eyes dart about Theo’s face, around the cavern, his expression is closed. But maybe it’s because of the years together that Theo is able to read the tiny creases in his lips, the twitch to his gaze – Octavian is furious, heartbroken.

  Betrayed?

  “No,” Octavian says. “No. It’s not.”

  He presses a finger against Theo’s chest and – impossibly – Theo staggers back, put off balance by the shove.

  “You think you’re so smart, Theodori, don’t you?” Octavian hisses. “You think you could still keep me at your side when you break down into this shell of yourself – this man enraptured by a pretty boy?” His lips curl. “Come back to me, Theodori. Show me you’re still there – show me you’re still the fearless leader you always promised me you would be.”

  “I have nothing to prove to you,” Theodori snarls, baring his teeth. His hands curl into fists, short nails cutting into his palms.

  “Oh, but you do.” Octavian chuckles, the noise bitter. “Did you really think I would stay with you through it all? Do you think I have no choices, Theodori? Do you not realize how many others came to me with offers of power and glory – offers that I turned down because I had put all my faith in you.” He spits the word.

  Theo stares. “How dare you speak to me –”

  Octavian whips up a finger. “Hush. You had your time to lord over me. But you’ve lost that power now.”

  Theo tries to raise his arms to fight back, but his body does not respond.

  Octavian leans close. He smells faintly of blood, Theo realizes. “Do you really want to know what happened to your perfect plan, Theodori?” he whispers.

  When Theo doesn’t reply, Octavian continues, “Oh, we went to kill the leaders located in the Abraxi District as promised, of course, but the enemy was waiting for us – waiting for us because you betrayed them.”

  Theo blinks dumbly.

  “You know the soldiers all hate you now, don’t you? They think you’ve lost yourself in a pretty man. Sure, they fear you, they would never say as much to your face, but they were all too eager to run to me for alternatives. Why do you think I insisted on being the one to lead the invasion into the heart of Cesscounthe? I’m not a fighter like the Wolf’s Teeth. No, but I needed to be there. I’ve earned their trust, yes, but how else was I to negotiate terms of peace between the Siacchians and our soldiers? How else was I to tell our people that you were the one who leaked our invasion plans?”

  When Theo splutters, words failing him, Octavian continues, “And of course, it makes sense that you didn’t notice me working – you’ve never noticed how hard I’ve worked. And you never gave much thought to the connections I formed either, did you? Didn’t ever think that one day, someone might come to me with an offer that outweighs even you.” He jabs his finger at Theo.

  Theo’s heart crumples. He stares at Octavian, this man who has been his ally through years – through everything. They were supposed to rise to the top together. They were supposed to be comrades –

  “And you should know, Theodori, that I didn’t want to. But you left me with no other choice. In the end, it’s exactly as you said: we can only look out for ourselves. If someone – even the enemy – comes to me with an offer for victory, for joined powers – for all the things we were fighting for – I couldn’t simply say no.

  “Even if that means having to sacrifice you.”

  “What have you done?” Theo says. He tries to move again, but his feet are so heavy, he only manages to take a single step.

  “I’ve fixed it,” Octavian says. “I gave you the option. But you always come back to him. To that damned captive. I wish I had never suggested we take a Siacchian –”

  “His name is Evland Childes!”

  Octavian’s eyes blaze. “I know there’s a lot moving through your system at the moment, but try to keep up, Theodori. That boy was playing you like a game this entire time.”

  “Playing me – that’s impossible.”

  “Impossible? Ask him his name. Maybe you should win one of your ridiculous Ravage games first, just to make sure he tells you the truth.”

  Who is he if not Evland Childes? Theo claws the thought from his mind, desperate to escape the pain that arises at the idea of Evland – no, is that even his name? – lying to him. Instead, Theo focuses on Octavian’s other words. “Moving through my system – Octavian, what have you done to me?” Theo slumps, bracing himself against the wall.

  Octavian crouches so he can meet Theo’s gaze. “I learned from the best, Theodori.” He brandishes a bottle that looks so familiar. The smell turns Theo’s stomach, taking him back to his years of training.

  Monkshood.

  Theo feels his body shaking like his skin is trying to shrivel from his bones. He tries to call to his wolf like he has been trained, like he has done so many times before, but there is no response. He growls. The noise is weak. Octavian must have used a ridiculously high dose – that drink he gave Theo earlier –

  Theo manages to heave himself to his feet, but still, his body can barely move.

  He closes his eyes.

  Stupid. How could he have not noticed?

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were so caught up in lust with that prisoner, Theodori,” Octavian says. He scoffs. “Or should I say Theo? You’re a fool. Just like your mother and father were. I should have had the Wolf’s Teeth kill that man on his second night here. I should have never put my faith in you, Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born.”

  Before Theo can reply, the clap of feet against stone rings through the caverns. The noise bounces off the walls, doubled with each stride. Theo turns – only for a warm body to slam into his chest.

  And though he shouldn’t have, Theo tumbles. His muscles have softened to liquid, his reaction time quartered.

  He hits the ground with a grunt – but can’t summon anger at the thing – the person – that has slammed into him.

  For Theo knows this scent now filling his nose. He inhales it deeply and his confusion and anger – even that growing bite of fear – wilt, leaving only contentment behind. This is his person, here, in his arms. Safe.

  Impossibly, Evland Childes is here, on top of him.

  Evland Childes struggles and then looks down, realizing it is Theo beneath him. His eyes roll in his skull like a nervous horse, but his fear seems to ease as he meets Theo’s gaze. His mouth shapes Theo’s name.

  Beyond them, Octavian towers, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, look,” he coos, rage coloring his cheeks. “You found each other again. I knew that crazy bitch couldn’t be trusted to keep you in one place for so long. No matter. She has me now to deal with the loose ends.”

  His boot descends. Theo rolls himself so he can protect Evland – whatever his name is – from the blow at the last moment. Pain starbursts through him as the attack collides with his skull.

  Darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen – Luka

  Theo’s deadweight pins Luka to the ground. He struggles, but he is as trapped as a bug beneath glass. Octavian shakes his head as he watches before he calls a limping Linne over. Together, the two of them carry an unconscious Theo and a struggling Luka back to the cavern hollow. Luka takes the tiniest bit of satisfaction in how his mother pants and heaves as she does so, blood staining her leg and her perfect hairdo finally mussed.

  All feelings of smugness fade when Luka catches sight of Xyla, now retied. Blood crusts her ripped trousers and streams from a swelling lump on her temple. Her eyes flutter as she sees Luka return, her expression crumpling.

  “All you had to do was keep them here!” Octavian hisses to Linne as he struggles to drop Theo’s unconscious body. Theo hits the ground with a dull thud, a low moan rising from his chest. “That’s all you had to do, Lockehart. And yet, here we are with one almost escaped. Our whole plan could have unraveled thanks to your carelessness.”

  Linne fixes the man with a cool gaze, not backing down from Octavian’s glacial eyes or the pale cream fur creeping down his arms. “My carelessness?” she repeats. “You should have arrived four minutes ago, Octavian. I knew they would use that tunnel should they decide to escape. Had you been here at the assigned time, we would never have had this problem.”

  Octavian’s lips part but before he can speak, Theo twitches, muscles flexing in his back.

  Octavian curses. “He’s a monster,” he hisses. “The monkshood should have kept him unconscious for at least ten minutes.”

  “Perhaps you should use the Midnight Kiss on him.”

  “No!” Octavian snaps, looking surprised at his own vehemence.

  “Then we don’t have any time to spare,” Linne snaps. “If you won’t do it, give the sword to me.” She holds out her hand, her bloodied fingers shining in the blue lights.

  Her attention diverted, Luka attempts to jerk free from his mother’s grasp, but she seizes him by the hair. His attempt to escape is aborted with a single yank, and Luka gasps in pain.

  At the noise, Theo stirs again, his lids fluttering. His eyes crack as he gazes up at Luka, awareness flooding his face as he takes in the situation. His gaze snaps to Octavian, and he bares his teeth – which are more human than beast.

  Luka’s stomach sinks. Monkshood, Octavian had said. It must do something to the monster inside an impyassus.

  How long does it last? He glances at Xyla, whose wounds have started to heal. She doesn’t meet his gaze this time, her logic washed away by panic – no. Not panic.

  Cold acceptance.

  No.

  Luka wills her to look at him, to see the determination in his eyes. One failed attempt at escape doesn’t mean the end. They would get out of here. His gaze darts to Theo.

  We’ll all escape.

  “It’s pointless to give a weapon to someone who doesn’t know how to use it,” Octavian says to Linne and draws the sword bound at Theo’s waist. The blade is the length of his forearm and shines in the lights, untarnished and sharp.

  Luka’s mouth goes dry.

  “Surely you wouldn’t benefit from killing him,” Luka says, the words leaping from his lips.

  Octavian rounds on him, eyes bright. “Speak again, Siacchian,” he growls, teeth growing past his snarl into fangs. “I’ve been eagerly awaiting the moment I can separate your head from your neck for a long time now.”

  Linne’s hand tightens on Luka’s hair. “He will remain silent,” she growls. She forces Luka to his knees, and he is reminded of his childhood tutors. How many times had they done the same to him after another failed test? He had thought he was past this powerlessness.

  But I failed. I failed the Bombani Exam.

  I’m a failure.

  Defeat weighs on his chest like a stone and Luka sinks beneath its cool waves.

  All his life, the one thing he had that buoyed him above the rest was his position as the second to ever receive a perfect score on the Bombani Exam. The whispered scorn and rumors from his neighbors in the Abraxi District, the disappointed scowl of his mother when Luka had asked if he could make his debut day after day and her resounding “no” – even his father, who sometimes looked at him like Luka was a living ghost – the one thing that kept Luka from succumbing was his victory.

  Who am I without that title?

  The answer is all too clear:

  No one.

  No one important. No one worth saving.

  Suddenly, Xyla’s defeat made all too much sense.

  Luka’s shoulders slump. The pebbles scattering the cavern floor dig into his knees. His scalp aches from where his mother grips it, forcing his head to bow. Beyond him, he can hear Octavian crunching across the gravel, approaching Theo’s prone body, sword catching the light. Theo groans quietly as the other man nears, managing to roll onto his stomach.

  Theo.

  Theo, who captured Luka’s best friend.

  Theo, who threatened his country and home.

  Theo, who was the first to see Luka and know him and still want him.

  Theo – who is going to die with him should Luka do nothing.

  Tension shoots through Luka at the thought. His chest aches, as if his heart is compressing itself into a ball. For a moment, he allows himself to envision that dreadful future:

  Octavian would slice Theo’s head off. Blood would muddle the floor, mixing with Evland Childes’. Theo would never breathe again, never offer that surprised smile – like he was shocked it had somehow slipped past his defenses – again.

  He would never kiss Luka again.

  He would be gone.

  Octavian would then kill Xyla and then Luka. Their bodies would be disposed of. And then what – did Linne really think she could trust these Kiterans? Did she really imagine their future would work together?

  Octavian brandishes the sword, and a weak growl flutters past Theo’s lips. Theo struggles, muscles flexing. Only his fingers show the tiniest signs of movement – is the drug starting to clear his system?

  But I’m a failure, whispers a tiny voice inside of Luka. There’s nothing I can do now. The words echo through Luka’s head, crescendoing into a mantra that he desperately tries to ignore.

  Octavian’s sword rises, a silver arc above Theo’s head –

  – Theo’s blood. Theo hurt. Theo dying.

  Theo dead.

  Luka’s heart breaks. Something sweeps across his vision, basking the world in red. Distantly, he hears someone – something? – screaming. Something roaring. An animal wounded, enraged, and ready to lash out.

  His mother holds him down with her arm alone. It will not be enough.

  Sensations tear across Luka’s skin, moving so quickly, it’s little more than an itch. His eyes roll back, and it’s like a film settles over them, casting the world in shades of gray. Suddenly, the sharp scent of Xyla’s fear, Theo’s anger, and his mother’s bitterness rip through him.

  Suddenly, for the first time in his entire life, Luka has teeth.

  His maw gapes, and he jerks, powered by inhumane strength. He’s never lost control like this.

  He has never felt so powerful.

  His mother cannot contain him.

  Linne will never hold him down again.

  “You told me you were certain he wasn’t a hopiar!” Octavian howls, rounding on Luka as he rears up to his full height. Octavian moves as if he wants to stop Luka, but this puny human won’t even be able to slow him down.

  Linne reaches for Luka again. She has become so much smaller – almost frail. It seems ridiculous that she thinks she can keep him away from Theo. Luka moves with single-minded purpose. When her arms dangle in his path, Luka parts his mouth.

 

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