Chapter 16 · Say It

Vera pressed the silver blade harder against Ronan's throat.

A thin red line opened under it.

"Put the ring back on the stone," she said. Her voice stayed calm, which somehow made it worse. "Slowly. No games."

Ronan was on one knee in the blood-slick dust, silver net wrapped around his shoulders and chest. Every time he breathed, the metal smoked against his skin.

His face had gone gray.

But his eyes were on me.

Not the knife. Not Vera.

Me.

Don't.

That was what they said.

I looked down at my hand instead.

The ring sat on my finger like it belonged there. Black metal. Gold veins running through it now, hot enough to make my knuckles ache. My blood dripped from the cut in my palm and hissed when it hit the altar.

Under the altar, something knocked once.

Not a sound, exactly.

More like a giant fist against the inside of my ribs.

Vera's guards shifted around us. Four left standing. One had a burned hand from where I'd grabbed his wrist.