Kieran hadn't said a word since I gave the order. He stood by the balcony now, his back to me, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass in the moonlight. His hands were clenched at his sides like he needed to hold the world in place.
I knew what he was thinking. If he had been a moment later.
I didn't let myself think the same.
Instead, I peeled the tattered fabric from my arm, hissing as dried blood pulled skin with it. The gash wasn't deep, not anymore , but the blackened edges told me enough. The Void dust was potent, and it hadn't been meant to merely wound.
It had been meant to kill slowly. Quietly. As if divine blood deserved a more poetic end.
A knock sounded.
Kieran turned before I could, stalking to the door and wrenching it open with enough force to make the hinges groan.
One of Kieran's generals stood on the other side, pale-faced and breathless, a blade strapped across his chest and more guards bristling behind him.
