“Den Brodson?”

“Hello, Ellie.”

Ellysetta stared in disbelief at Den Brodson, the son of a Celierian butcher who had, at one time, been Ellysetta’s (wholly despised) betrothed. The months had not treated him kindly. He was a young man, but his hair, greasy and unkempt, was now liberally streaked with gray, and there were deep grooves along the sides of his mouth and bags under his blue eyes. His ruddy complexion had faded to a sickly olive gray. His stocky build had softened to doughy fleshiness.

“Oh, Den… what have you done?” There was only one reason he would be here. He had sold his soul to the Mages. She shook her head in horror. As much as she’d always despised him, Ellysetta wouldn’t wish Mage-claiming on her worst enemy.

“Young Brodson has been surprisingly useful for a mortal peasant,” the High Mage informed her. “If not for him, my chemar might never have found their way to Teleon—and on to Dharsa. And he was quite adept at finding your sisters in Dharsa and bringing them back to me.”

“You monstrous bogrot,” she breathed. He’d always been a hateful bullyboy, but she’d never realized he could be such a fiend.

“You were supposed to be mine, Ellie Baristani!” he spat. “You bore my Mark! Your family signed the papers! You were mine!”

“I was never yours, Den,” she shot back, “and I never would have been! How could you think I would ever give the smallest part of myself to a foul Shadow snake like you?”

Blue eyes, surrounded by stubby black lashes, narrowed with sudden, glittering malice. “Well, you won’t be the Tairen Soul’s either, Ellie Baristani. At least not for much longer.” He looked to the High Mage. “Master?”

Vadim Maur nodded. “You may begin, umagi.”

“Wait,” Melliandra said as Lord Shan started for the door. “You’ve been here a thousand years, but you don’t know Boura Fell. If you stumble around blindly, you’ll just get yourself killed or captured again.”

“Do you know where he’s got our daughter?”

“I know where he’s got the Tairen Soul—I heard rumors in the kitchens. If he’s still there, your daughter will most likely be nearby. If she’s not, I know of a few other places to check.”

“Then tell me quickly,” Shan said.

Melliandra started to tell him but then stopped. There was too much he needed to know—and he needed all of it to ensure his best chances of success.

“That will take too long. It’s better if I show you.” It took a lot for her to make that offer. All her life, she’d lived in a body that was not her own, possessed a mind that was invaded at will. She’d been abused, both physically and mentally, again and again. As one who had spent her life powerless, she never willingly gave of herself without expecting some personal benefit in return. And she definitely never deliberately made herself vulnerable—not to anyone. Until now.

She lifted his hands to her face and opened her mind, offering him access to the part of her mind not even Vadim Maur could enter. “The information you need is here in my mind. Take it.” When he didn’t immediately take her up on her offer, she snapped, “Quickly, before I change my mind.”

He gave her a deep, searching glance, then nodded and said, “Beylah vo, ajiana.” The way he said it felt almost like a kiss pressed against her cheek. “And forgive me, this may be uncomfortable.”

She gasped softly as Lord Death dove into her mind.

She suspected he was being as gentle as he could, but she could feel him inside her head, briskly rifling through her thoughts, siphoning off the information he needed. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, and her breathing turned ragged, fearing that he would look beyond the thoughts she’d pushed to the front of her mind to the other thoughts… the thoughts of Shia and her son. But he did not trespass. He took only what he needed and no more. Then her mind was her own once more.

“This will do,” he said. “This will more than do. You have a good eye.”

The compliment made her flush with pleasure. “Go,” she ordered brusquely, to hide her reaction. “You don’t have much time.”

“Then come with us,” Shan said. “We’ll see you to safety once we kill the Mage.”

“I can’t. I’ve got things of my own to tend to.”

Shan nodded in understanding. “Good luck, kaidina,” he said. “I know you think the Fey would kill you, but you will always find welcome in the House of Celay.”

The woman, his mate, reached for Melliandra’s hands. “Miora felah, ajiana. Blessings of the Fey upon you, child, and may the gods grant you more joy than you ever thought possible.”

The soft words were accompanied by a rush of warmth so strong, and a feeling of such… such… Melliandra had no words to describe it. The closest she could compare it to was the dizzying pleasure when she’d called her magic that time in the refuse shaft. It was like freedom and Shia’s smile and sunlight and blue skies all wrapped up in a single moment that made her want to laugh and cry all at once. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself to hold the feeling to her for as long as she could.

When she opened her eyes again, Lord Death and his mate were gone.

Chained to the walls of a lightless cell in the bowels of Boura Fell, Bel, Gaelen, and the rest of Ellysetta’s quintet awaited their turn in the torture masters’ untender care. Since waking from their drugged sleep, gods knew how many bells ago, the screams of their blade brothers had not stopped. Those screams had been growing steadily louder, as the torture masters of Eld worked their way down the line of new prisoners.