All the air within the chamber seemed to be sucked away as she watched Talarion stagger backwards, one of his hands flying up to the crimson stained hole in his chest. Her lips were still parted, but if she was screaming or calling his name, she couldn't hear her own voice. Only a high pitched ringing filled her ears.

    Her lungs tightened with lack of breath but she couldn't seem to pull any down, and her heart was a violent battering ram behind her ribs. Talarion dropped to his knees and doubled over with a haggard cough, blood dripping from between his teeth.

    A shudder racked Tissaia's body, even as her brother raised a burning defiant glare towards their father. Their father! The male who was supposed to have been their protector. The male they had needed protection from. He towered over her brother with a wicked laugh that managed to cut past the steady ringing.

    Fury sparked into a roaring furnace within her gut, and air suddenly flooded her lungs once more. She would not sit here helplessly and watch her father take her brother's life. Tissaia let the book slip from her hands as she silently pushed herself to her feet. Roshan was still prowling towards Talarion, oblivious to her movement.

    Tissaia raised her hands, amethyst flames crackling from her palms, and drew one more steadying breath. Her gaze fixed on the back of Roshan's head as he raised his sword anew. Before he could let it fall, flaming tendrils wrapped around his forearms. He gave a howl as the scent of burning flesh curdled the air, but the cry was short lived.

    Tissaia collided with his back and locked her legs around his waist, a feral scream bubbling up within her as she dug her scalding fingers into his flesh. Roshan stumbled under her weight and his cries grew louder as she ravaged his face, gouging deep lines anywhere she could find unprotected skin.

    Blood misted across her face and hands, but she paid it no mind. Not when he had spilled so much from herself and her brother. She had vowed to spill just as much of his, and she was going to. Tissaia ceased her attack long enough to unhook one of her legs and throw it over her father's shoulder instead.

    His hand clamped down on her thigh and blistering pain lanced her veins, but Tissaia only gritted her teeth and with one sharp movement, hurled them both onto the ground. She was on top of the male before he could recover and pinned his arms down with her knees.

    A knife that had been discarded nearby found its way into her grasp and almost without realizing it, Tissaia ripped the blade across his sternum, over and over again. Slicing through layers of leather and fabric. Tearing open skin until blood slickened the hilt in her grasp. But she didn't cut deep enough to kill him.

    All those hours she'd spent being tortured to encourage her brother to advance in his own training, she had learned a few things herself. She had learned exactly how to angle a knife beneath a layer of skin and pry it free of the others. Slowly. Excruciatingly.

    She knew exactly where she could cut without endangering his life. Exactly how deep she could leave her marks. Because of all the marks that had been left on her, and her brother. And her hand was unpracticed, making it all the worse.

    Roshan was still screaming and struggling beneath her with every blow she dealt, and it only fueled her anger further. He had never stopped when she screamed as a young child, and he never stopped when she wept as a teenager. He never stopped even when she no longer reacted as an adult. He. Never. Stopped. And neither would she.

    Tissaia just held her father's gaze and screamed right back in his face, feeding all her rage, all her pain, into it. There were no words that could convey it, and no words her father would ever understand. He only understood violence, and had made sure his children were well versed in it too.

    She kept hacking away, even when bits of gore coated the front of her clothes. Salty tears mixed with the blood upon her skin, though she didn't know when they'd begun to fall. Tissaia kept slicing, over, and over, and over, her father's screams ingraining themselves in her memory until she knew that even if her old nightmares left after this, new ones would take their place.

    She might have continued slicing forever if a knee hadn't rammed into her back and flipped her off of him. Tissaia let out a haggard cough as breath rattled from her lungs, but there was no time to waste. She rolled onto her stomach, chest heaving in an effort to regain air, but Roshan was already bearing down on her.

    Tissaia lifted a shining hand, but before her father could reach her, a sturdy arm clamped around his throat and dragged him backwards. Azael's jaw was clenched, and blood still ran down his face. His broken arm hung at his side, but he was awake, and he wasn't letting go.

    Talarion was there the next instant, one of his wicked fang-like knives poised to strike, but Roshan threw a hand up and a blast of magic caught her brother right in the chest. Tissaia lunged to catch him and Talarion fell into her with a hoarse groan. She couldn't swallow her gasp at the sight of his injury. Blood was still seeping into his leather suit and the thin fabric shirt beneath it.

    Talarion shoved her hand away before she could heal him. "I'm fine," he grunted. "That blow must've ripped it open again."

    Tissaia began to protest, but was interrupted by a sharp cry from Azael. Roshan had latched onto his broken arm and wrenched it over his shoulder. Azael swore, then screamed again as his arm dislocated with a harsh crack. Roshan took advantage of his momentary disorientation and twisted out of his grasp. His forehead collided with Azael's, knocking the Prince off balance.

    "This prick just won't quit," Talarion seethed.

    Tissaia met his gaze. "Then it's time to end it." Her throat bobbed as Talarion's hand rested at the nape of her neck. "It wasn't in vain," she whispered. "None of it. I know how Kaius sealed the book, and I saw how it can be undone. He gave us a chance for the future."

    "You know how to read it?" Talarion echoed in disbelief. She nodded.

    "If you value your own mate's life, you'll tell me what you know!" Her father roared, jolting her attention back to him.

    He stood between them and Azael, who was struggling to pick himself up off the floor. There was fresh blood on his lips and his broken arm now hung at an unnatural angle. His gaze was hazy, likely from shock and pain, when he looked back at her and Talarion.

    Azael shook his head roughly and an amber shield wrapped around him before he glared up at Roshan. "You're a fucking coward," he said with a wry laugh, shoving to his feet. Tissaia's stomach churned as he swayed haphazardly and more blood dripped down from his temple onto his neck.

    "Kill me if you wish, but even that won't prevent them from killing you." His smile turned dark and bitter. "You'll just succeed in making your daughter a Queen, like you always wanted, only you won't be around to try to control her."

    Roshan narrowed his eyes. "Come now, my Lord," Azael crooned. "You know our customs as well as I. You even planned for this exact scenario, did you not? Tissaia and I are mated. In the eyes of the gods, that is an even deeper and more binding bond than marriage. My titles are hers, and should I die, the crown I would someday inherit will go directly to her instead."

    Tissaia could only gape at Azael as his pale blue gaze met hers. She knew he spoke the truth. She just hadn't truly believed it before. "She would need no King," he added softly. Another piece of information, just for her, in case it truly did come to that.

    Tears stung her eyes as she murmured in response, "I would want no other King."

    Talarion's arm tightened around her shoulders. "It's over, Father," he snarled. "Step away from the Prince."

    Roshan's dark eyes flamed with rage, and she and her twin dove towards him simultaneously as he rounded on Azael, a dagger held in his grasp. She didn't even know when he'd recovered it. His magic illuminated the blade as he threw himself at Azael. Her mate was already brandishing Orilight, its golden glow spilling across his face.

    Roshan's impact smashed through Azael's weak shield, but Orilight held strong, keeping her father's dagger at bay. The two began exchanging rapid blows and just as they were within reach, Azael sent their father reeling backwards from a kick to his mangled chest.

    But even as Roshan flew backwards, he pointed his palm at Azael, and one last bolt of magic struck him in the head. Tissaia's lips parted in horror as blood beaded in the air and Azael careened backwards, Orilight already falling from his grasp. His face smacked against a stone wall and he crumpled to the floor, his hair turning crimson and a thick puddle forming beneath his cheek.

    "Go!" Talarion shouted. "Heal him, before there's no time!"

    She didn't spare a thought to argue. Tissaia sprinted past her father and crashed to her knees beside Azael. His eyes were open, but there was no hint of recognition within them. Nothing to tell her whether or not he was even conscious. "Azael!" She gave his shoulder a harsh shake. There was no response. Not even a blink. "Azael, Darling, can you hear me?"

    She leveled both palms over the gushing wound and fed her healing magic into it. A tremor shot through her as her magic leached away, knitting his skin together far too slowly. A few frightened tears managed to slip down her face before she smeared them away with her shoulder.

    "Darling," she called again. "Please, Azael, answer me!" She couldn't even see if his chest was moving, as he'd landed partially on his stomach, with his broken and dislocated arm trapped beneath his torso.

    Gods, what if she couldn't heal the damage her father had done? What if he was already slipping away, and she had no way of knowing? Tissaia choked on a sob. "Azael," she rasped once more. "You don't get to leave me. Do you hear me? You cannot fucking leave me! Not now!"

    She tipped her head back, breathing all the prayers she could think of as she pushed her magic harder, until she could feel her own energy flagging. And still, the Prince did not stir.