“Why does this bother you?” I asked. “We do not know that there is any truth to it.”

“There is truth to it,” he said.

“How do you know?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “What haven’t you told me?”

He stopped pacing and finally looked at me. The white rings around his eyes had grown thicker, brighter.

“Adrian,” I whispered.

“Dis has started to speak to me because she knows my plans,” he said. “One of the things she said was that Asha had found her own path forward. I believe that means she’s created an incarnate. I am an incarnate. We are their hand upon this earth.”

“You have been here for two hundred years without an adversary equal to your power. Why send someone now?”

“If only I knew,” he said. “Fuck.”

He placed the palms of his hands against his forehead as if he were in pain.

“Adrian,” I said, taking a step closer, but his hand shot out, halting me.

“Don’t,” he snapped.

I waited, watching. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched tightly, and his hands shook.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

He let out a harsh breath and then fell to his knees.

“Adrian,” I whispered, taking a step closer. Then he looked at me, and the white had consumed his eyes and they glowed. “Adrian?”

“Run,” he gritted out, the veins in his neck bulging.

I turned just as he lunged, but I did not make it far before I hit the ground. I rolled and tried to kick him, but he was already on top of me, holding me down, his fingers biting into my wrists.

“Adrian, please!”

I struggled against him, but he held tighter.

“You have done this to him!” The voice sounded like Adrian’s, but I knew it was not him. Dis was in control. “He had no desire to be free of me until you returned—and to think I gave you to him as a gift.”

I twisted and kneed him in the stomach. He loosened his grip, and I smashed my elbow into his face. It was enough to draw blood but not enough to push him off.

His hand went to my neck, and he leaned down and spoke against my ear, his blood dripping onto my face.

“How does it feel to know you will die at the hands of the man you love most?”

He tightened his grasp and I ceased to take in air. My face felt hot and swollen, my tongue thick. I struggled, attempting to free my hands, which he had pinned between our chests, but I could not move to stab him. This was what he meant—why he had not been surprised that I had created a book to kill him.

If you do destroy me, it will be because of Dis. You’ll remember that, won’t you?