“Consider us congratulated and honored by your magnificent presence,” Thorne says with a smirk and an obnoxious and exaggerated bow. “We’re absolutely beyond honored by your presence.” He says the last words sarcastically. It’s been months since I’ve seen this side of Thorne, the smirking and lazy prince, who makes his way through every interaction with flippant and brazen remarks, as if he hasn’t a care in the world and fears nothing. Mazus only bares his teeth.

“I wouldn’t be so cavalier, son. You haven’t heard what my mating present is yet.” I keep my features schooled in a neutral expression, but inside I’m screaming, completely rattled by this whole interaction.

“You know what,” Thorne says, tapping his chin and looking around the room like he’s trying to find something. “I think we’re out of room in the palace for even a single additional gift.” My lips quirk at Thorne’s comments, and it bolsters my own haughty resolve.

Mimicking Thorne’s irreverence, I add, “I think you may be right. Thanks for the greeting and gift, but we’re all set.”

“What happy news, then, since I intend to take as my gift,” Mazus says, eyes feral with delight. Without warning, Thorne is ripped from my side, appearing next to his father and bound in slimy black ropes that look suspiciously like the mass that had surrounded Krantz.

“Thorne!” I cry out, then turn my gaze back to Mazus. He only smirks, and the expression is so like Thorne it makes me nauseous. With a blood-curdling shriek, I hurl as much aether as I can at the ropes like I had with Krantz, but this time the black mass doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it squeezes Thorne tighter. Panic briefly flashes across his eyes before he gains control over his features again, looking bored and uninterested in what’s taking place. For added effect, he even picks at his fingernails, while I completely fall apart inside.

I close my eyes to evaluate the aether around Mazus, and my suspicions are confirmed when I find a web of pulsing onyx surrounding him, at least ten times the size of what Krantz had accumulated and somehow darker and inkier. It makes me lightheaded to look at, and I’m forced to open my eyes again. I try sending small streams of light to probe the ropes holding Thorne, looking for any weakness, but it does nothing.

Mazus makes a tsking noise.

“Unfortunately for you, Laurel, the only magic that might help you break those bindings is entirely unknown to you. What a shame you and Thorne never explored the true power of the mating bond,” Mazus simpers.

“What do you mean?” I hiss.

“Do you want to tell her Admon, or should I?” Mazus asks the old male. Admon’s eyes meet mine, regret and something else I can’t place clearly written across his expression, but I only bare my teeth.