Chapter 4

Kazimir saw me lying on the ground and frowned. "Stop playing dead." He nudged my leg with his boot.

I didn't move.

He crouched down and hauled me up. My body was a block of ice. He froze for a second, and something like panic flashed through his eyes—gone almost at once, buried under the cold.

His palm was warm. Before I knew what I was doing, my body was leaning toward that warmth—half an inch.

I stopped it.

Kazimir let go and stepped back, as if he'd touched something filthy.

"Isabeau's soul is unraveling again," he said. "She needs a fragment of your core."

A core fragment. That meant my life.

She hadn't lied. He knew.

"Fine." I looked at him.

Kazimir stared into my eyes, searching for something—resentment, anger, anything. He found nothing. There was only dead calm.

"That fast?" He sneered. "What's your price this time?"

I drew the parchment from inside my clothes. My blood had dried on it.

"Sign it." I held it out.

He took it. When he saw what was written there, his face went dark.

"A soul-unbinding contract?" His fist clenched, crumpling the parchment. "Elowen, have you lost your mind?"

"Sign it, and the core is yours." My voice was quiet, without a ripple in it.

"You want to leave me?" He stepped in and gripped my shoulders hard enough to crack bone.

"Yes."

"You think signing this buys you a happy little life somewhere?" He ground the words out through his teeth. "You're a criminal. You'll spend the rest of your life atoning, here, with us."

"I'm done atoning." I looked at him.

A hundred years of torment. My blood. My life. He'd had all of it.

Enough.

Kazimir stared at me. Then he laughed—a short, cold sound. "Fine. Good. You think I can't bear to let you go?"

He bit his finger open and pressed a blood seal onto the contract. "You asked for this, Elowen. Once the core is out, get out of my lands."

The contract caught fire in midair and crumbled into ash. Deep in my soul, the thread that tied me to him snapped.

I saw Kazimir's hand jerk to his chest. He frowned, as if something had stung him. Two seconds later, he lowered his hand.

"Parlor tricks," he muttered.

My body felt a little lighter. "As you wish," I said evenly.

The altar stood at the very top of the castle. Isabeau lay at the center of the ritual circle, eyes closed. They brought me to her side. Kazimir stood between us, holding a staff made for one purpose only: extracting cores.

The old priest presiding over the ritual bowed low. "Your Highness, once the extraction begins, no power in heaven or on earth can stop it. We await your word."

Kazimir said nothing.

"Begin," I said.

At the center of the circle, the corner of Isabeau's mouth curved. Only I saw it.

Kazimir glanced at me. For some reason, his hands weren't steady. "You can still take this back," he said, his voice low. "Admit what you did, and I'll only take half."

Admit what I did. A hundred years, and he was still waiting for a confession.

"No need." I closed my eyes. "Take all of it."

The staff pressed against my chest. The incantation began.

Pain tore through my soul, ten thousand times worse than the knife that had taken my heart's blood. I didn't scream. I simply let it happen and felt my life being drawn out of me.

Inch by inch, the elven core came free.

It was no longer a brilliant green. It was ash-black and covered in cracks.

Kazimir saw it, and his pupils snapped tight.

"What is this... Why is your core shattered?"