Chapter 25 · The Hand With the Crown Ring

"Mara, don't move."

The dead hand closed around my wrist.

Its fingers were black bone wrapped in cracked leather, and a gold ring sat on the smallest finger. The crown carved into it looked almost like the mark burned into my oath.

I jerked back. The hand tightened.

Pain shot up my arm.

"Dorian!"

He hit the gate with his shoulder, one hand still gripping his sword. The black metal groaned, but the hand didn't let go of me.

"Let her go," he snarled.

The thing behind the gate turned my wrist toward the narrow crack. Its grip was cold enough to numb my fingers. I could feel the ring scraping my skin.

Then the oath mark on my palm flared.

Dorian staggered.

A red line split across his palm, matching mine.

"Stop fighting it," he said through his teeth. "Mara, look at me."

"I'm trying to get my hand back!"

"You're feeding it more power."

"That's your brilliant advice?"

"Yes. For once, listen to me."

The gate shuddered between us. Dust rained from the stone arch.