My hand automatically went to my throat, assessing the damage. “You don’t have to kill me to do that,” I rasped out, nearly choking on my fear.
Evren reached out to tug at a lock of my hair before letting it fall. He hummed thoughtfully. “And yet, killing you would be the simplest option. I’d save myself a lot of trouble.”
I tried not to grind my teeth together as his eyes ran over my body, lingering on the swell of my hips beneath the thin hospital gown. My stomach lurched sickeningly.
“My tastes are not so debased as the Darkseer’s, girl,” he’d once spat at me.
“Hear my offer first.”
“Make your case, girl, and make it quick.”
Panic slithered through me. What could I offer Evren to persuade him not to murder me in cold blood?
Every opponent has a weakness. You must root it out and exploit it.
What was Evren’s weakness? Pride? Envy? I thought back to that night in the Tusk, the look on Evren’s face upon discovering I was immune to his glamour. I’d humiliated him. Certainly, he envied Devereaux’s power, but even more than that, he feared being perceived as weak. What better way to tempt him by offering a chance at redemption in the eyes of his peers? Seizing upon Evren’s wounded vanity was my only hope.
Taking care to keep my voice calm and even, I began in earnest. “We both know your glamours don’t work on me—” Evren growled his discontent, so I went on quickly, “but what if therewas a way to reverse whatever genetic glitch it is that makes my blood immune to your glamour?”
Was such a thing even possible? I didn’t know.
He stared at me, stunned, and then burst into laughter. “You can’t be serious. You would welcome pain and suffering where your blood protects you?” he said, so surprised by my offer that he forgot to be menacing. Abruptly, he leaned in, and I flinched at the vitriol in his voice. “Why should I bother when there are so many other ways I can make you hurt?”
My lip trembled. Indeed, why bother with glamours when he could just stab me with a knife or crush my head against a wall?
And then I remembered something about the conversation I’d overheard between Evren and Devereaux in the observatory.
“Your ego bruises far too easily, Dronov. Don’t let it bother you.”
Evren had replied,“Of course it fucking bothers me! It would torment you, too, don’t deny it, Dev. I just don’t understand…”
My gaze narrowed on the Bloodweaver, scrutinizing his guarded expression. Evren’s pride had taken a beating that fatal evening in the Tusk when he discovered his glamours were futile against me. It wasn’t a leap to surmise that he was consumed with envy, jealous of his friends who could glamour me with a single touch while he remained impotent.
Yes, I thought, he could use a blade,but it wouldn’t give him a tenth of the satisfaction of watching me writhe under his glamour.I had to hope that his ego would win out.
I forced myself to smile. “You could hurt me in other ways,” I conceded, “but I imagine it would be much more fun to glamour me instead.”
Evren cocked his head, eyes glinting as if I’d just presented him with a new and intriguing game. A slow, poisonous smile spread over his cruel mouth as he began to laugh. “Fuck me,” he chortled. “Well, you’ve got me there, girl. Thatdoessound like fun.” His face was full of anticipation, like that of a lover beforethe act of pleasure, only a thousand times more malicious.
I swallowed back bile.
What the fuck had I just done?
Wordlessly, he withdrew a knife from beneath the folds of his black coat, and my eyes automatically darted to the silver blade, gleaming softly in the darkness.
Evren tugged back the sleeve of his shirt and glanced at me expectantly.
I took a steadying breath and reluctantly proffered him my hand.
His fingers closed around my left wrist in a vice-like grip, turning it so that the palm faced upward. “In exchange for your life, do you, Arden Farrow, willingly renounce and relinquish all protections of your blood that resist softmagic, and specifically,Bludkravkglamours?” His fingers tightened on my wrist as he added, “Even if the result of this bargain is that you shall suffer untold agonies?”
Dread curled low in my stomach. I had to trust that everything Casimir told me about true names was accurate.
A name is tied to a person, body and soul… Your name will give him power over you.
Unless I spoke my true name, this bargain would be non-binding. He would rage and vow vengeance once he discovered my duplicity, but it was worth the risk. This lie would save my life.
I forced myself to answer, “Yes.”