Except the word came again: Control, and this time Aeduan knew exactly what it meant: he could control people’s blood. Anyone that he could scent, he could command. Which meant that the hunters watching him stood no chance. It meant these chains could be unbound in an instant.

Oh, what power he’d had within him for a month, yet he’d never known. No wonder people feared him. No wonder the Raider King had tensed whenever he was near. Such power was almost godlike.

And such power was truly worthy of the person he had once been.

Aeduan inhaled as much air as his lungs could contain, ribs bowing wide. The guards’ bloods coruscating against his senses. From the woman came a scent like a grandmother’s wrinkles and the tang of blood on steel. And from the man was wind from the north and bison fur still warm.

Control, the first soul nudged again, and so Aeduan did. Clumsily at first, his fingers shaping into claws behind his back, behind the column. He grabbed at the closest hunter—the woman—and squeezed.

But it felt like pawing at the breeze. He could feel her there, could even stretch his magic to reach for her, but he could not grab hold. His magic grasped nothing but empty air.

He tried again, this time focusing on the man. On the bison he had clearly hunted, on the Windswept Plains where he had clearly lived. There were deeper folds to his blood. A child’s laughter. A wine made from berries heated in the sun. A woman’s smile, one tooth crooked in front.

Aeduan inhaled more, all focus on the blood. On each new element rising to the top as he explored. Dogs barking. Fresh bison milk. The scrape of a knife on wood.

There. He had enough. There. He had finally grabbed hold. And now, as he squeezed, he took control—except that it was so much more. He was slithering inside, moving through veins and feeling the thump of a heart beating strong. He could stop that heart. He could freeze those veins. He could end this man’s life in an instant.

Control, the first Aeduan reminded. Only control.

It annoyed him, but the first soul was right. Death would serve no purpose here, at least not before Aeduan was free. So with hard, magic-fueled concentration, Aeduan spread his power into the man’s limbs. First into his arms, where he unfastened the keys at his waist. Then into his legs, where he sent the man stepping, one foot, then two, toward Aeduan.