The Silver Siren (Iron Butterfly, #3)(59)

His or mine?

Tomac’s sword arced and he turned his body into the movement, decapitating the mannequin in one fluid movement. The straw-filled head flew across the room to come and rest by my foot, face down. Tomac turned and apparently noticed my intrusion for the first time. His head cocked to the left, the movement very much like a bird of prey as he studied me with interest.

“Tha-l-i-a,” he dragged out my name in a trill of notes that made my skin crawl. “I broke it.” He gestured to the stuffed head that had rolled to my feet. “Could you fix it, please?”

I looked down at the faceless structure and picked it up. Part of me wanted to run from him, but another wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t afraid of Tomac. That even without my powers he couldn’t scare me. Somehow, knowing that we were both the same, both susceptible to the same anger and fury, made me want to pity him. Help him—because in some way, I would be helping myself.

The head felt heavy in my hands and I looked underneath into the neck and saw that there was a wood handle that had been severed in two. I walked with confidence across the room, my shoes echoing across the stone floor. The mannequin was finely made. Someone had taken good care in making it as lifelike as possible. It was even dressed in a long green robe. I pulled the handle farther out of the head and jammed the stake into the body of the practice dummy, twisting and turning it as it slowly slid down. I had to stand on tiptoe as I spun the head around to face the front.

What I saw stopped me cold.

This dummy was not faceless. I had expected this one to be like those we’d used at the Citadel. But someone had taken the time to sew on a mouth and two silver coins for eyes. My hands started to shake as I stared at the face of the dummy. There was no mistaking his choice of coins for eyes. The silver was intentional. I swallowed nervously.

The hysterical laugh was the only warning I got as Tomac’s sword cut through the air.

I ducked and rolled. The sword missed my head by mere inches, re-decapitating the practice dummy. Only my roll didn’t go as well as I hoped, since my very long dress wrapped around my legs, hampering my escape. My heart was in my throat as I tried to scamper backwards on the floor and untangle my feet from the yards of material considered proper for a young woman. This dress would soon be the death of me.

Tomac danced around me on the floor, whooping and hollering to his own manic song. I kicked free of my dress and jumped up, running for the door. He flung a broken piece of chair across the floor at me and it rattled along and tripped me. My chin slammed into the floor first and pain raced up my jaw. Lights flickered painfully in my skull. I felt dizzy as I rolled over to my back, just as Tomac kneeled over me pinning me with his knees and body. One hand grasped me around the throat and his other arm rose high behind him, the sword tip at my throat. My hands wrapped around his hand and I worked on twisting it to release, but I couldn’t fight both the hand and the sword tip. I felt a prickle of pain and something wet pooled down my neck.

“Nighty-night, birdy. You will no longer plague my dreams.” His body weight lifted, and I knew he was about to plunge the sword into me.

I closed my eyes and relaxed, preparing myself for the pain that would inevitably come, followed by my death. Until I reminded myself that I was surrendering, and I don’t surrender.

Besides, Kael wouldn’t want me to. He would tell me to be strong. And I had to for him as well as myself. My death would leave him vulnerable.

I reached deep down in myself for the anger and rage at my situation. Right now I hated Tomac. Not as much him as what was done to him. This wasn’t his fault.

My body silently screamed with rage, focused not on Tomac but on the sword. Pain ripped through my body and I felt like I had been pierced, though the sword had not touched me. I let the pain flow through me and outward, focusing on the sharp blade only inches from me. Tomac hesitated for a second, and in that one pause I was able to push through the nothingness, the void, the shadows that were Sinnendor.

The sword cracked, just a single crack splintered up the side, but Tomac pulled back to look at the sword in puzzlement. It wouldn’t be enough to stop him. He just smiled and raised it again.

Now, I was beat, tired, and exhausted.

A roar ripped through the air as Sevril’s body flew into Tomac, knocking him to the ground. The sword still nicked me, but I was free. Hands gripped me under the arms and started to drag me backwards out of the room. I watched as Sevril had Tomac pinned to the ground, punching him again and again. The sword lay abandoned feet across the floor.

I lost sight of Sevril and his brother as someone pulled me out of the hall. Whoever had me stopped and then came to my side to pick me up.

Xiven. I couldn’t help but use what little physical energy I had left—

To slap him.





Chapter 26



“Ouch! What in heaven did you do that for?” Xiven grunted as he continued to keep a hurried pace as he jogged away from the hall where Sevril and Tomac were fighting.

“Put me down! Put me down before I kill you,” I seethed. His hands loosened and I dropped unceremoniously to the ground. My feet barely caught me.

“Now, Thalia! It’s not like you think. I mean…it is like you think, but really it’s not.”

“You work with Talbot. You’re part of the Septori,” my voice carried loudly and echoed. Xiven winced and looked around helplessly.