She fought for breath, feeling like he’d punched her in the chest. His face blurred as her eyes watered. “You’d steal my soul? Turn me into a mindless breeder for you?”

“I would not do that to you!”

“And you wonder why I don’t want to have children with you! Would you take their souls, too?” She made a fist above her heart. “Press a fire scythe to their chests?” As she began backing away from him, sorcery whorled around her.

“No!” He looked like the idea appalled him. “I did consider doing that to you, but immediately decided against it.”

Her voice shook with fury when she said, “I’m done with this. With you. Done.”

When he strode toward her, she commanded him, “Freeze in place.” She was astonished at how easily she wielded her persuasion, her sorcery flowing unhampered. Maybe her nervousness had affected it.

After all, every time she’d used it in the past, she might have been calling Vrekeners down upon herself and Sabine. No chance of that now.

Though Thronos fought the command, he was forced to obey it. “Gods damn it, Melanthe, don’t use your sorcery on me! You can’t comprehend what it’s like for me to lose control of my body and mind.” When she merely raised her brows, he said, “Don’t do this now. We’ve been moving in the right direction. You can’t deny the change between us.”

“Because I didn’t know what you were plotting! I command you to remain in this glade for twenty-four hours. That ought to give you some time for contemplation.”

Incredulous, he bit out, “You don’t believe I’ve done enough of that? And where will you go? To steal a key by yourself?”

“Precisely.” If she reached both demon lairs before dawn, the armies would still be locked in conflict. Not only could she follow the sounds of their skirmishes, she would encounter few demons within their respective dens.

Of course, with her sense of direction, she should be lost directly.

Even if she somehow made it to the Abysmals’ stronghold, it was fronted by a maze of ruins. Yet she expected to find her way into and out of them? She couldn’t find her way out of a human mini-mart.

As if he read her mind, Thronos said, “How will you know where to go? If you follow that path back toward Inferno, you’ll have to cross the pest zone.”

Or she could follow the path away from Inferno for a time, then cut north (or south, or whatever) to reach the plateau. Inferno would be on one side, Deep Place on the other.

She’d thread the needle, get the lay of the land, and decide her strategy. “I have a plan.”

He shook his head hard. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve managed all these years without you.” Of course, she’d always had Sabine to protect her.

“You’ve managed, but you’ve never been in hell.”

“Debatable.” Perhaps Lanthe could finally protect herself, take off the training wheels to become a badass like her sister.

Lanthe remembered a time centuries ago, when she’d asked Sabine, “Why are you so much bolder and braver than I am?”

Sabine had told her, “Illusion is reality, Lanthe. If you look or act all-powerful for long enough, guess what you’ll become.”

Lanthe squared her shoulders. “One last thing. I’m sorry to have to tell you this—actually, I’m not sorry at all—but your brother is the one who stabbed me with a pitchfork and brained Sabine. He and his men are the ones who hunted us.”

“Aristo? What are you talking about? You’ve never encountered my brother.”

“I peeked into your head and saw your recollection of our first meeting after your fall. I saw your brother’s face, but it certainly wasn’t the first time.”

While Thronos gaped at her words, she said, “Now, hand over that medallion.” She couldn’t believe she’d been so wrapped up in him that she’d all but forgotten about it.

He reluctantly removed the piece from his pocket, handing it over as ordered. “How did you know?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t sense this gold?” She ran the pads of her fingers over the gleaming smoothness. Red gold. In her hands.

It was the size of a pocket watch, with the finest engravings across the surface, depicting . . . flames. Seeing it reminded her of her dream on the island, of a woman saying, Set worlds aflame.

Lanthe looped the chain around her neck, telling Thronos, “I kept waiting for you to make a gift of this. Now I realize you probably meant to use it against me.”

“That isn’t true. I did intend to give it to you.”

“What do you think my reaction would’ve been like? How might I have expressed my gratitude? Maybe you’ve learned a Sorceri lesson: never put off till tomorrow what you can revel in today.”

“If you leave me here like this, I won’t be able to protect myself.”

“Then I command you to remain in this glade for twenty-four hours unless there is a threat to your life.”

“Damn it, Melanthe! Can you not imagine what this is like for me, to feel the force of your sorcery again? It makes my skin crawl!” His muscles swelled as he strained against her commands. “There is no more horrific feeling. When I jumped through that window . . . and I couldn’t fly . . .” His voice grew hoarse. “To see the ground rushing closer, and I couldn’t move my wings. I just wanted . . . to move my wings. Look into my thoughts right now—see that memory!”