Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(116)

Ignacio smiled at her. “You see how much your father loves you?”

Finn shook her head at him. He only loved what he owned, and he never would own her again.

With another wave of his hand the three sets of doorways out of the ballroom swung open. “I’ll even let the rest go. How’s that?”

He snapped his fingers and the ballroom guests came to life again, while his black-eyed minions stayed still. The deafening screams of the nobles echoed around Finn once more and she resisted the urge to clap a hand over her ears.

“Get out!” Ignacio roared, the magic making his voice boom throughout the ballroom like a crack of thunder. The guests fell still and quiet at his command, as if a god had spoken and they wondered if they should pray. “Or stay and die. The choice is yours.”

At the sight of the open doors, the royals and guards began to escape, running with reckless abandon. The shadowless stood still, awaiting Ignacio’s command but looking hungrily at the running nobles.

Finn watched as the king and queen were rushed out of the room by a group of guards. They shouted Alfie’s name, but the prince looked away from them, his eyes shining as they were ushered out of the ballroom.

Now it was only Alfie and her against Ignacio. Xiomara was still out cold on the far side of the ballroom.

Ignacio glanced at the shadowless noncommittally. “Feast on whoever you like, but the three in this room are mine.”

At that, his servants loped out of the room, running after the scent of prey.

The ballroom was swaddled in silence. Ignacio cocked his head at Finn, amused. A shiver rolled up her spine, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to move. But then the prince’s voice sounded at her side.

“I’m right behind you,” he said.

She looked at him. His face was resolute. Fear burned beneath it all, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from stepping forward. She wouldn’t let it stop her either.

“Give me some cover,” she said to him.

He nodded. “It’s yours.”

Then she was running forward, straight for Ignacio. The prince pulled water from every vase, every glass of wine, every bead of sweat in the room. With a wave of his hands the water turned into a heavy, thick mist. Finn closed the distance to Ignacio and pulled stones from the palace ground, sending them at the spot where he had stood as the mist closed around him. She could hear him gasp as the stones made contact. Had she done it? Had she somehow landed a blow?

The mist cleared around her. Ignacio stood before her, his chest bleeding through his shirt from the stones. He grinned at her before disappearing in a puff of black mist. Some sort of illusion?

He was toying with them.

Frustration twisted through her, painful and familiar. Why were things always like this when it came to him? She was forever a step behind, thinking she’d finally rid herself of him only to find him smiling down at her once more, readying to strike her with another blow, another command, another collar around her neck. Why was she even fighting anymore? What was the point?

“Prince!” she called, turning to find him. But Alfie was not there.

Behind her stood a little girl. She looked exactly as Finn remembered, just as Finn saw her in her nightmares.

It was the girl she’d killed—the very first life she’d ever taken.

The ballroom was empty. It was just her and the girl. The girl’s eyes softened as she gazed at her, her hair ruffled by a warm, heady breeze that passed between them.

Then the air turned cold as her brown eyes darkened. Her veins thickened and grew black, standing out against her skin like spiderwebs spun from shadows. She lunged forward, and tackled Finn to the ground. She wrapped her callused hands around Finn’s throat and squeezed with all her might. Finn couldn’t take in a wisp of a breath. Her eyes watered. Her heart beat wildly in her throat.

“You deserve this,” the girl was saying over and over. Her voice carried like an echo, eerie and resonant. “You deserve to die for what you did.”

And though Finn clawed at the girl’s hands, trying desperately to break free, part of her still believed that her words were true. A life for a life.

Then the face changed. One dimple became two, dark eyes became gold. It wasn’t the little girl choking her.

It was Alfie.

He snapped out of it just after she did. Alfie wrenched backward, panic in his eyes.

“I don’t know how—I—I wasn’t hurting you it was—I—” he sputtered.

She rubbed her throat, breathing deep through her mouth. “It’s okay,” she croaked. “It’s okay. You haven’t crossed the line, Prince. It wasn’t you.”

His eyes wet, Alfie nodded at her words, clinging to them as he looked down at his hands in unabashed fear. She looked at him and wanted to say what she’d wished someone had said to her each time Ignacio had made her end a life with her bare hands.

It wasn’t you, it was never you, she wanted to shout. It was your body, but it wasn’t your own. It was your hands, but they aren’t stained. His are.

Without asking, she knew who Alfie had been imagining—Xiomara. Guilt written in his features, the prince pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Why did Ignacio have the power to cultivate darkness in everyone and everything?

“So this is the muchacho you left me for?” Ignacio tutted from behind them. Finn and Alfie started, scrambling to their feet. “This boy who would wrap his hands around your throat? You know I’m the only one who knows the real you and still loves you. How many times do I have to tell you that? The only person you have is me.”