Chapter 7 · The Heir They Erased

"Don't touch the door again."

Dorian's hand clamped around my wrist before my blood could reach the next line in the stone.

His fingers were hot. His grip wasn't gentle. The oath burned under my skin, matching the red mark on his palm, and the pain shot from my wrist straight into my chest.

"Let go."

"You're waking them."

"I noticed."

Behind us, something scraped across the dark.

Not stone. Armor.

The vault floor shook. A row of black-boned soldiers pulled themselves out of the ground, one after another. Their ribs were plated in iron. Blue fire burned behind their empty eye sockets.

Dorian shoved me behind him and drew his short blade with his good hand.

"Mara, listen to me. You don't know what that door answers to."

"It answered to my blood."

"That's not the same thing as control."

"Funny. You never seemed worried about control when you dragged me into chains."

His jaw tightened.

The memory still sat between us. His younger face. His hands cutting through the straps around my wrists.