Chapter 9 · Silver-Black Eyes

Kane's breath stopped.

Not slowed. Stopped. His chest locked mid-inhale, and the silver veins under his skin turned black, spreading up his neck like ink in water.

I grabbed his wrist. No pulse.

"Kane." I shook him. "Kane, stay with me."

His eyes snapped open. Silver-black. Not his color. Not his anything.

He smiled.

It wasn't Kane's smile. It was too soft, too knowing, like whoever was behind those eyes had been waiting for this exact moment.

"Hello, little mender," Kane said. Except it wasn't Kane's voice. It was a woman's. Low, warm, almost gentle. "You've done so well. Keeping him alive this long."

I let go like his skin burned me. "Who—"

"You know who I am." Kane's body sat up slowly, movements too smooth, too controlled. He tilted his head, studying me the way you'd study a painting. "You've seen my work. In your brother. In the wards your mother tried so hard to break."

My mother.

The dead queen.

"You're in his head," I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "You're the curse."

"I'm the lock," she corrected. "And you, little mender, are the key."

Kane's hand moved before I could react.