Disgust crosses his expression as he cuts me off. “Laurel, begging like this is beneath you. And certainly doesn’t make me want to marry you. Weakness is repulsive.” He practically spits the last sentence, but I barely comprehend what he’s saying. The distinct buzz of magical energy from the aether builds in my body. No, not right now. I need to stay in control. Sweat gathers on my brow from the effort of pushing the magic down. “As we speak, my soldiers are picking off the pitiful remaining army you have. I’ve sent my best assassin after your General,” he spits the word, as if the idea of a young female general disgusts him. No. No, no, no. Not again. I can’t lose another person. The buzzing intensifies, and this time I can’t dampen it. It shakes my bones and churns my organs. I’m consumed by rage and so… much… energy… “I will take you back to Velmara to experiment on. Thayaria will be absorbed into Velmara, and we can forget all about this pitiful excuse for a war.”

He takes a step toward me, and I react instantly. His body freezes, eyes widening in shock and horror as he realizes I’ve stopped his ability to move. I stare at my own hands, unsure what magic I’ve used and how to undo it. Looking at Mazus again, determination settles across his expression. He grunts, breaking my magical hold on him, then calls for guards to bring in iron shackles. I vaguely sense the guards arrive, distracted by my fury and the effort of keeping my magic under control. If I let go and unleash it, I’ll have no ability to direct it, not in this emotional state. Not to mention the years-long plan to keep the true depth of my power hidden, the plan my parents died for, will be ruined.

Soldiers grab me and pin my arms to my sides, their grips so tight it makes my arms ache. I scream in fear, but there’s no one coming to save me. My parents are dead, thousands of my soldiers have already fallen, and Nemesia… the only person left in this world who I love is probably already dead. Mazus steps toward me, a dagger and several vials in his hands. He slices down my arm and a whimper of pain escapes me. Tears collect in my eyes and blur my vision. I try again to break out of the soldiers’ hold, whipping and contorting my body in any position I can think of to break free, but to no avail.

Collecting the crimson blood that seeps from my skin, Mazus grins at me with malice. I panic, unsure of what’s happening. Iron shackles clamp around my wrists, and then Mazus is speaking with his aether-voice, able to compel me because of the iron, even though I have more power than him.