Her mouth was slack for a moment before her face twisted into a glare. The girl stretched out a hand, forming a fist. The flame from a torch streaked toward him like a fiery arrow. Instinctively, Lykor threw an arm up to protect his face, realizing a moment too late that he should’ve used a shield. Pain ignited in his palm.

WHAT THE FUCK? Lykor stared at his claw, angry and blistered. Bubbled and burned.

He bared his fangs at the elf, eyes pinning on the tether to confirm that it was still latched to her wrist. Ignoring him, she dashed to the wall of hanging, gold-plated weapons.

Lykor heard chuckling. He tunneled inward to confront that bane in his skull, materializing in their mindspace. Aesar was in his library, doubled over, laughing at him.

WHAT? Lykor snarled, keeping half of his attention on the girl, who was jumping to reach a golden mace. She couldn’t lift that one anyway.

So Kal’s sire curated those human shaman lines with elven blood after all. Aesar wiped at a stray tear, eyes shining with mirth. What are the odds that we share a bond with one of them? He flapped a hand and burst into another cackling fit, plopping down onto a reading couch.

YES, FUCKING HILARIOUS. Lykor lingered at the threshold of Aesar’s atrium, crossing his arms. WHAT’S YOUR POINT?

Elbows perched on his knees, Aesar leaned forward. What if all of those half-elves have elemental power? That striking male you’re obsessed with could too.

I AM NOT OBSESSED. Aesar’s unexpected jab had Lykor’s rebuttal more defensive than he’d intended.

Redirecting his thoughts away from that amber-eyed elf, Lykor cycled through the possibilities of having elemental power at his disposal, doubting that he could siphon those powers from the girl and use them himself. Not that Aesar would allow him to attempt it without a fight.

Lykor voiced his conclusion. SHE COULD USE THAT MAGIC FOR US TO AID IN CROSSING THE WASTES.

Aesar’s amusement faded. The king has more of a head start than we anticipated if he’s already resurrected shaman power. He stared at the sofa’s armrest, tracing a seam. I wouldn’t be surprised if he intends to control the abilities of these half-elves or those with shaman blood. My guess is that he’ll attempt to subdue the Maelstrom and brave the sea to reach the Aelfyn homeland.

Lykor scoffed. THAT’S ABSURD.

She might know something. Aesar glanced at him, thumbing his chin. We have no idea what she could be capable of but you’re lucky she appears just as startled as we are by those powers.

Lykor studied the girl as she finally gave up on reaching for a weapon. His conversation with Aesar occurred in heartbeats while she glowered at him from across the room.

LET ME GUESS. YOU WANT TO BE THE ONE TALKING TO HER?

I could get more answers than you and not terrify her at the same time. Aesar folded his arms, kicking an ankle over a knee. I don’t know if the stars finally decided to balance the scales, but we could use the help of her elemental magic. And for the record, I don’t agree with keeping her hostage.

Lykor dug his fists into his eyes, a bone-deep weariness clinging to his marrow. WOULD YOU LIKE TO RISK HER INFORMING THE ELVES OF OUR LOCATION?

Fine, Aesar conceded, pursing his lips. If she’s staying, then maybe you can bring yourself to be civil and rectify this situation. Aesar pointed an accusatory finger at him. How about you start by healing where you sank your talons into her flesh?

I’M NOT A SAVANT LIKE YOU, Lykor fired back. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MEND.

Stop being such a prick, Aesar reprimanded, his tone withering. Use my knowledge. You have no qualms about helping yourself to my head with everything else.

Muttering to himself, Lykor summoned Essence. He sifted through Aesar’s mind, curling mending light around his palm. He flung the magic at the girl.

Red threads sailed across the chamber, twisting together like an array of comets. Flinching, the elf stumbled away and gasped when the scarlet tangle collided with her chest, stitching the gashes left by his claw.

So refined. Aesar rolled his eyes. Lykor was surprised that he didn’t lose them on their journey into the back of his skull. Now, try asking her name.

Closing the distance, Lykor stalked up to the girl and barked, “What’s your name, you shaman twat?”

Aesar slumped into the couch, throwing his head back with a frustrated sigh.

The girl’s eyes went wide before she scowled, cerulean irises cold enough to frost the room.

ANY OTHER CLEVER SUGGESTIONS?

Don’t mind me. Aesar arched his brow. I’m content with watching you screw this up. He flapped his hand. I’ll be here when you’re ready for me to intervene.

The girl tilted her chin, folding her arms. “I don’t know anything about the Heart if you’re going to ask again. Prince Vesr—”

Lykor warped the few remaining feet in front of her. She shrieked, scrambling back to hit the wall before she could finish that damning word. He wrapped his fingers around her mouth and growled through his teeth. “Don’t say it.”

Lykor yanked his hand away when she bit him. “Don’t say his name, you shaman spawn.” He seized her leathers, shaking her instead of wringing her neck like he would’ve preferred. “Do you want to fucking die?”

The girl’s nostrils flared, her defiance obviously coalescing. “You’re going to kill me anyway, so what does the timing matter?”

“One way or another, you’re telling me everything you know about the Heart. It’s your choice on how much you’d like to endure first.” She shrank back when Lykor elongated his fangs.

Stop scaring her. Aesar scolded, rising to resume his pacing across the library.

“Answer me or I’ll start peeling layers off your eyeballs with rending.” A bluff since Aesar still had that portion of their Well locked away. But the elf didn’t know that.

Do you have to be so needlessly graphic?

Lykor sensed Aesar poised to spring, undoubtedly ready to throw his full strength against him and battle for control if Lykor went any further than intimidation.

Regardless, Lykor flared Essence. The unformed magic glittered like the gold in the stones, billowing around the chamber. The elf stiffened, plastering herself against the wall before her eyes darted to the torches.

Lykor flashed his canines. “Try it,” he taunted, fists tightening against her leathers. “I’ll play with your fire.”

“The Heart spoke to me,” she said quickly, apparently thinking better of any more rebellion.

The way she claimed something so asinine dragged an incredulous laugh out of Lykor’s throat. She yanked her shredded armor straight when he released her.

“What did the Heart say, then?” Lykor sarcastically mocked. He placated Aesar by releasing his magic before that meddler got any ideas about wrestling their entire Well away. “And don’t bother wasting your breath if you’re going to say something even more ridiculous.”

She faltered, teeth dragging over her lip. “I—I don’t remember.”

Lykor snorted. “How convenient.”

“I’m not lying.” The elf straightened, glaring up at him with those unnerving eyes. “Let me hold the relic without this tether and I’ll prove it to you.”

A wave of uncertainty had Lykor flashing his attention to Aesar before he thought better of seeking his advice. THIS COULD BE HER ATTEMPT AT MANIPULATING ME INTO TAKING OFF THAT MANACLE.

Aesar shrugged, apparently not seeing any harm. Obviously, he was more trusting since she had some type of association with his twin. She doesn’t seem to know any more than we do about the Hearts’ role in shackling the dragons.

Cracking the aggravation out of his neck, Lykor entertained the notion. The girl’s claim was too bizarre to be a jest. If she was foolish enough to summon her power, he’d finish ripping the talents from her Well and rid himself of this bond’s affliction.

Lykor drew out his key and the Heart of Stars from his trouser pocket. He extended the gleaming crystal, dropping the relic into her palms. Seizing her wrist, he unlocked the shackle, letting the metal clatter to the floor.