"You traitorous piece of filth," she seethed at Rhysand. "You're just as bad as these human beasts." One by one, as if a hand were shoving them in, his talons pushed back into his skin, leaving blood in their wake.

He swore, low and vicious.

"You were planning this all along."

Her magic sent him sprawling, and it then hurled into Rhysand again—so hard that his head cracked against the stones and the knife dropped from his splayed fingers. No one made a move to help him, and she struck him once more with her power. The red marble splintered where he hit it, spiderwebbing toward you. With wave after wave she hit him.

Rhys groaned.

"Stop," you breathed, blood filling your mouth as you strained a hand to reach her feet. "Please."

Rhys's arms buckled as he fought to rise, and blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the marble. His eyes met yours.

The bond between you went taut. You fashed between your body and his, seeing yourself through his eyes, bleeding and broken and sobbing. You snapped back into your own mind as Amarantha turned to you again.

"Stop? Stop? Don't pretend you care, human," she crooned, and curled her finger. You arched your back, your spine straining to the point of cracking, and Rhysand bellowed your name as you lost your grip on the room.

Then the memories began—a compilation of the worst moments of your life, a storybook of despair and darkness. The final page came, and you wept, not entirely feeling the agony of your body as you saw that young rabbit, bleeding out in that forest clearing, your knife through her throat. Your first kill— the first life you’d taken.

You’d been starving, desperate. Yet afterward, once your family had devoured it, you had crept back into the woods and wept for hours, knowing a line had been crossed, your soul stained.

"Say that you don't love him!" Amarantha shrieked, and the blood on your hands became the blood of that rabbit-became the blood of what you had lost.