Chapter 9 · The Temple Still Bleeds

"You don't get to look away now, Saintess."

Cane's fingers locked around Selena's wrist and yanked her forward. The dream-temple was bleeding. Black cracks split the white marble under their feet and the air stank like cold iron. "Where is he?"

"Let go of me," Selena snapped, twisting. Her skin was hot against his palm. Too hot. "You're hurting me."

"Good. You should hurt," he said. "Where's Veyr?"

She tried to pull free. He didn't let go. He dragged her another step and the floor pulsed under them, that sick heartbeat of the Void. The whole place was his now. Her temple, his rules.

"He's not here," she said. "This is my dream. You dragged me here. He's not—"

"He is," Cane cut in. "You brought him with you. Guilt's a leash, Selena. You tied it yourself."

A laugh echoed off the broken columns. Old. Smooth. Sickeningly kind.

"Cane, my boy. That's no way to hold a lady."

Selena flinched. Her whole body went rigid in Cane's grip.

Veyr stepped out from behind the altar. Not old in the way humans get old. Old in the way statues get old.