Chapter 12 · Trial by Blood

The vault door bucked hard enough to shake dust from the gold ceiling.

Nessa grabbed the edge of the stone table before it threw her sideways. The blood-shadow of Colin was still fading over the black floor, his last warning hanging in her ears like a bad song.

Don't trust Dorian.

Too late for that, apparently.

Another hit slammed into the door.

Dorian shoved himself between her and the entrance, one hand pressed to the blood soaking through his shirt. The black curse lines had crawled up his throat now. They pulsed under his skin every time he breathed.

"Move," Nessa snapped.

"No."

"You're bleeding all over a dead woman's vault. Very dramatic. Still not useful."

He glanced back at her. His face had gone gray, but his mouth twitched anyway. "You always this sweet when people are trying to kill us?"

"Only the ones lying to me."

That hit. Good.

Dorian's jaw tightened. He turned back toward the door before she could see whatever answer he didn't want to give.

The vault shook again.

A crack split down the black stone panel. Red light leaked through it. Not torchlight. Bloodwork.