He turns on his heel and walks away. My knives burn at my wrists, but I ignore the magic that seems to be asking me to kill him.

Not yet.

I wait until he’s disappeared before turning as well, but as soon as I shift to the left, a black door has already materialized. I twist the gold doorknob and step into a boxy passageway made of gray stones that go from the floor to the ceiling. Winter-cold air wafts from the cracks between the stones. I let some of my magic burn against my skin, warming me like I’m holding a mug of cocoa while a storm rages around me.

The passageway goes on for so long that for a second I doubt the magic and wonder if it led me astray—perhaps Lucius’s hold on it is stronger than I thought—but then the path ends, and I step into a cavernous circular room with giant cages lining the walls.

Only one cage has someone in it. He has his knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on them. It’s such a childish pose it makes my chest ache. I move toward him, but he doesn’t look up.

His white shirt is ripped and bloody. He’s probably already healed, of course, but they had their fun dragging him here.

I walk all the way to the bars of his cage before he lifts his head. His eyes are hard, and the beginning of a snarl pulls at his lips before he realizes it’s me.

“Ava.” He stumbles to his feet. “I wasn’t sure…” His voice cracks. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I didn’t want Ethan dead.” I don’t tell him it’s okay. It’s not.

He glances away before meeting my eyes again. “He was going to kill you.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I know,” I say again, softer.

His eyes search my face. Of course I understand why he did it, but I don’t want him to have one more death on his hands to save someone he loves. I should have been strong enough to do it myself—to live with Ethan’s death on my hands.

I’m torn between anger and gratefulness.

Roman reaches out a hand through the bars, and I hesitate, but then I take it and watch as he squeezes his fingers around mine. His grip is too hard. It hurts, but I don’t pull away. It calms me. The tiny bit of pain gives me focus.

I step up to the bars and put my other hand against the metal. It’s so cold it bites me. I pull back with a yelp.

“Ava,” Roman warns.

But I’m not listening. This is my plan now.