Shh. He brings a clawed finger to his lips, his eye glowing with mischief. Remember, they’re listening.

I shake my head, my thoughts too tangled to make any sense of the situation. With every blink, though, my memories come racing back, dozens of fractured frames and distorted images that make me dizzy. Malice betraying us. Locking me away. Force-feeding me some kind of poison that made me go unconscious.

“Let go of me,” I snap, wriggling against his hold to no avail. “Let me go right this moment!”

Malice sighs, tightening his grip as he stares deep into my eyes. “We were getting along so well, too.” He blows out another breath, his eyes trailing to the ceiling. “I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“What are you talking about? Get off me!”

He shakes his head, his voice entering my mind for the second time. I will right after you listen to what I have to say. It’s important.

“There’s nothing you could possibly say that would make me⁠—”

I’ve been plotting to kill Slaine this entire time.

I freeze, his words knocking me for a loop for the second time in five minutes. But then I remember how many times he’s lied to me, and my walls come back up. I don’t believe you.

And why would you? He blinks, his smile dropping along with his carefree demeanor. Except I’m afraid I’ll need you to trust me to do what comes next.

Why?

He sighs. Because I need your help. Because you’re the key to our freedom.

I don’t understand…

He stares, unblinking. Did Kaebl ever tell you who your father was? What you are?

We didn’t really get the chance to talk about it. I narrow my eyes in a glare. We didn’t really talk about anything, due to literally getting attacked by evil soldier demons.

Malice’s lips press together in a frown. Still, someone should have explained it to you.

And what was stopping you, exactly?

He shakes his head. Oversight. It does happen from time to time.

I scoff, rolling my eyes. I’m tired of hearing your voice. Just say what you need to say and get out of my cell.

Malice lets out a breath, his claws extending as the muscles along his forearm ripple, his irritation clear. I suppose it’s best to start at the beginning. Your father—Erik—was Abaddon’s right hand, and his most loyal soldier. The last of an extinct species of demons with black-feathered wings—Sables—he was equal parts powerful, capable, and brilliant. A fantastic asset on the battlefield, and a better friend. His gaze turns mournful as he recounts the memory. When he died… the entirety of Abaddon’s kingdom mourned.

Kaebl told me he was… murdered. And Zairn… I can’t finish the statement. That my father was tortured before he met his end.