I frowned, hesitating momentarily in wrangling the creature as I ran through every bit of knowledge I'd gathered in my years of research, leafing through dusty books in our library and sitting in my father's office eavesdropping on phone conversations he had with other Heads. Mistress Lyressa, it had to be her. With the realization, it came back to me, what Graysen had shared with me in the woodland—A monster with the face of a child.

Battle-black eyes flicked to mine. "Look, from the corner of your eye, and you'll see what everyone else does," Graysen gritted out quietly.

When I turned my head away, peeking at the girl through the feathered shadows of my eyelashes, I saw a beautiful child with sweet lips and a pert nose. Angelic curls of blond framed soft round cheeks. Innocent. A lie. A wonderful, deadly lie.

Mistress Lyressa bounced as she walked, swinging her arms like an excited girl would. She wore a white sailor blouse tied with a navy bow, a pleated skirt, knee-high socks and shiny black patent shoes. She looked almost as if she were skipping her way off to school, not heading toward a stone altar crusted with age-old blood.

It was her big wide eyes that captivated me in that sweet innocent face. The most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. They were the dusky blue of a distant mountain range, striates of violet and clouded with pink and peach. A sunrise. A beautiful glorious sunrise.

The sunrise was cast over in gloom by the thing that prowled behind her.

The third Horned God towered over everyone.

Urstlo.

Its figure vaguely resembled a giant human in shape, but that was where the similarity ended. It was formed from darkness—pitch-black night. The kind of darkness that squeezed the air from my lungs and threatened to shatter my mind. The only thing to be seen within that nightmare figure were four crimson eyes, and a mere glimpse of something else roiling beneath the darkness—flashes of silver and the faintest sound of gnashing.

The creature hissed—Let me out... I want to see... Let me taste it. The thing inside me could feel the ancient, cruel power of the Horned God lapping against my flesh.

Wrong, wrong, wrong—my powers sang. Pain and suffering and agony wrapped themselves around the shadowy god, but the creature that resided within me was desperate to discover just how wrong Urstlo was.

I squirmed a little, trying not to look obvious in my discomfort. My clothes were too tight. My shoes uncomfortable. I felt harnessed. My skin was suddenly clammy, and when I rubbed my forehead a thin layer of sweat coated my trembling fingers.

Shit, shit, shit—

My breath left me in a long, low whispering hiss.

A terrible, terrifying mistake, I realized as Urstlo's pace faltered. It lifted its head, and from within its cloak of darkness, I heard it sniff the air—

Urstlo stopped walking altogether.

A trickle of sweat slithered from beneath my hair down my spine.

Urstlo drew in another long inhale, its head slightly turning my way, its numerous eyes glowing like red-hot coals.

Urstlo slowly, ever so slowly, twisted toward the Crowthers.

My heart stuttered—kicked into a frantic hummingbird pulse.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Graysen pressing a palm across his chest, right over his heart. His head whipped to mine, eyes full of worry.

Urstlo stepped toward the Crowthers, a blot of darkness in the dim temple.

Inside, the creature growled, digging into my bones with claws and fangs.

Shield yourself!—I urged.

It snarled viciously back at me—NO!

They'll feel me. They'll know. They'll claim me!—I begged it.

I turned everything inside, desperate to bind the creature to me, to hold back its curiosity— the dark power that fought against every terrified beat of my heart, demanding to be let go.

Urstlo stalked closer... So close... It's going to find me!

What can I do? Run? Swift?

Three more steps and it would be before me.

Two more steps—and my knees almost buckled.

One more—terror punched the oxygen from my lungs.

Urstlo loomed over the Crowthers.

Every single Crowther remained where they knelt, not a single emotion to show they feared Urstlo or were even concerned or curious why the Horned God towered over their House. But they were tense, battle-ready. I could feel the thickness of it in the air, saw it in the way the brothers carefully shifted to brace themselves, as Varen's hand minutely twitched, fingers inching to the inside of his jacket.

I heard a sound from Urstlo, a deep inhale of breath—

Ferne gracefully rose.

Valarie gasped, the sound cutting through the silence of the temple.

Varen reached for her. "Ferne!"

But she'd taken a single long step, taking her out of line.

Ferne tilted her head to the side, long black hair shimmering with blue light fell over her shoulder as she pivoted around to face Urstlo.

The Horned God reared back. It cocked its head, hunching its shoulders to bow down lower, and stared at Ferne through those crimson eyes. The sound of nostrils flaring to sniff could be heard as if this was the way it chose to sense someone.

The hollow clack of Ferne's high heels on stone echoed against the carved walls as she took a sideways step. Mistress Lyressa had stopped in her journey toward the dais, as had Master Sirro, both of them turning back to see who had disrespected them.

Master Sirro didn't look angered, merely curious.

Though Ferne faced Urstlo, I knew she wasn't addressing the creature, she was speaking to Mistress Lyressa, her voice low and raspy. "You have my eyes."

Lyressa's beautiful eyes—Ferne's—leisurely skated over the youngest Crowther's lithe body. A smile curved her lips. "My, you've grown. It feels like only yesterday when I gazed upon a small child." Ice speared through my chest to hear her voice, youthful as the child she appeared but ancient and twisted as well.

Ferne inclined her head, smiling serenely. If she were terrified of facing a Horned God, nothing gave her away.

Shock spiraled through me. A Horned God had stolen Ferne's eyes, as I'd guessed the night before. Graysen's mother had died because he couldn't protect her against the Horned Gods and his sister's eyes had been stolen. For failing them both, he'd been punished. Punished ruthlessly over the course of a year by his aunt.

How old would Ferne have been?

My mind quickly came up with the answer...three, she'd have been three years old when Mistress Lyressa had stolen her eyes.

I half-turned to Graysen and found him rigid, his chest heaving with shortened breath. I could feel his anger, his panic. He lurched forward—

I locked a hand on his shoulder. Beneath my grip, taut muscles bulged as he struggled against my strength. But I tightened my hold, my fingernails biting into his flesh. A warning. A reminder. He wanted to do something, anything, to protect his baby sister and I needed to stop his recklessness.

Graysen's gaze sliced to mine—such turmoil burned in his eyes, fury and hate and guilt, and there was unfettered panic too. He was terrified for Ferne.

The clatter of shoes drew my gaze back to Mistress Lyressa who walked up to Ferne and rose up on tippytoes in her childish shoes. Her hand, gods, the putrid flesh of the patchwork hand she'd stolen from who-knows, reached up to cup Ferne's chin to tilt her head this way and that. Acid burned up my throat. Was she thinking of stealing something else from Ferne?

"Such pretty eyes... I couldn't resist when I saw you with them." She gazed through the sunrise-orbs she'd stolen, staring at the delicate lattice-work of lace that was wrapped around Ferne's forehead, hiding the empty eye-sockets from everyone's sight.

Horror churned in my gut.

I'd often wondered if Ferne's eyes had been stolen because she was other, wondered if she could see things others couldn't. But Lyressa had stolen them from Ferne, a three-year-old child, just because she liked the color of the irises?

Graysen shoved at my hand squeezing his shoulder. I let go, only to snatch a fistful of his hair, arching his neck back painfully. Veins corded on his throat. Fury blazed from eyes gone so feral I wasn't sure if I could reach him. His lips, thin and bloodless, pulled back from white teeth as he silently snarled.

I shook his head just once. My iron glare was just as intent—No.

His nostrils flared.

I tightened my hold, my gaze glacial.

Slowly, so slowly, I felt the change in him, the acquiescence a moment before his limbs slackened in defeat.

There was nothing any one of us could do.

I relaxed my hold, but I didn't release him. I turned back to Ferne to see her smiling. "I hope they bring you joy," she said to Mistress Lyressa.

"They do. They garner such exquisite compliments."

Satisfied, the Horned God released Ferne, and the youngest Crowther respectfully inclined her head before stepping back into line between her father and Jett, and swooped to one knee. Her glossy black hair fell forward like a waterfall and hid her face.

Maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was because I'd been focused on keeping Graysen kneeling or maybe it was because Urstlo's attention had been diverted to Ferne. Whatever Urstlo had sensed and smelled was gone, or maybe it was only distracted from the hunt. It turned and followed Mistress Lyressa as she moved with purpose toward the dais. And as my gaze trailed them, I locked eyes with Master Sirro. His attention hadn't been on his companions, nor had it been on Ferne, it had been on me.

His golden gaze glided down my arm to my fingers knotted around Graysen's messy hair to keep him in place. The fine skin around his eyes crinkled and his mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile.

I let go of Graysen and tore my gaze from Master Sirro's, letting it fall upon Ferne kneeling in front of me, her head bowed in reverence. A sudden thought slithered into my mind—She confronted Mistress Lyressa, not because the Horned God had stolen her eyes, but to distract Urstlo from me...

Why would she?

But the thought slipped away as soon as the Horned Gods reached my father, stepped onto the dais and turned to face us all.

"Rise," Master Sirro said in his polished voice, gesturing with an elegant wave of a hand.

The temple was suddenly a loud cacophony of shifting fabric and clattering feet as the Houses rose to their feet, and as one, turned to face the dais.

Relief flooded through me to be hidden from sight by the tall Crowthers. For once being small wasn't such a bad thing. But it was short-lived when I remembered why we were here. The Blessing from the Horned Gods was detailed among the books I'd read. I'd heard about it from Lise, as well as from my father who'd earlier explained what tonight would entail to better prepare me.

But nothing...nothing could prepare me for this.

The tithe's sacrifice—her stolen soul blended with her blood would be consumed by Evvie and Corne, and with every sip of that ruby-red liquid, their natural life expectancy would be extended and fertility enhanced. After all, the Horned Gods needed us to keep them hidden and they needed the continuation of our Houses. As for the couple's happiness...well that wasn't something the Horned Gods were concerned about.

With the shift of position of the Houses, Graysen swapped places with one of his cousins to move back to my side. His hand skimmed my chilly goose-prickled arm. Concern flashed in his obsidian eyes. But before he could ask what worried me, Evvie and Corné entered the temple. Evvie looked stoic, a keen edge to her normally serene features. She didn't glance at Corné, nor take his hand, but stepped forward as regal as a queen, as a woman who might sling the mantle of Great House around her shoulders and wear it well. Corné stumbled a step to catch up with her, and together they walked through our ranks.

Corné kept his gaze straight ahead but as he passed by, his eyes slid sideways to find mine fixed on him.

I smiled.

He quickly averted his gaze, his milky-white skin paling to a sickly color, and he swallowed. The tips of his fingers skimmed his bruised and swollen cheek.

My smile grew broader.

A young woman trailed behind them both—the Wychthorn tithe.

She was taller than even my sister, and my complete opposite with straight dark brown hair falling just above her shoulders and rich brown eyes. The almost see-through shift tangled around her ankles as she kept pace. And that brilliance her soul shone with—she glowed—an iridescent sheen to her skin that lit up the shadowed depth of the temple.

This was the girl I'd comforted two nights ago before she been taken from the tithe prison to the temple and kept there to be polished and preened and primped.

Quiet. She was so quiet. I thought she'd be raging or weeping or begging. But there was a faraway look in her gaze—obviously she'd been sedated to ease her into death.

As she walked by, there was a flash of deep searing heat that would have scalded my flesh if not for the bone-chilling souls lowering the temperature of my body. She glanced my way, a sudden jolt as if she'd abruptly awoken and become aware of my presence. Her eyes flashed wide, perhaps not with recognition but with some innate instinct that recognized what I'd been to her.

The power inside me writhed with eagerness—What is she?

She was an Everlasting Shard—pure of soul and a life extender. Nothing untoward had happened to this girl, her charmed life had shone brightly and she would have lived until a ripe old age, longer than her family, and all her friends...if she hadn't unwittingly crossed paths with one of the Houses. Our House.

Let me out—it purred.

No.

The creature roiled inside my gut, bristling and hackling that I was denying it freedom.

It roared—LET ME OUT!

I snarled back—NO!

I had to keep it bound and hidden. If the Horned Gods discovered what I was. That my family had shielded me all these years... Entire Houses had been wiped out for less.

The creature slammed against my mind, against my will, pounding me as if I were a brick wall.

I squeezed my eyes shut and held onto the adamere bracelet with all my might, squeezing the beads so tightly in my palms I was sure they'd bruise—My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none.

I needed to reach that place that kept everything in check.

The thing inside me writhed and screamed and hissed and yowled. It fought back with fangs and claws. Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!

NO!—I screamed back at it.

And just like that—I lost my grip on the creature.

Its senses swirled outward—

Blind panic erupted and I mentally scrambled, lurching forward to grab hold and reel it back in—

Too late, too late. I'd been noticed.

Undiluted fear slammed into me.

Master Sirro's head whipped around. I was mostly hidden from his sight, but I could feel his senses searching down the line of Houses, those near-invisible wisps of power rolling like fog down the steps of the dais, creeping like black crawling insects through the rows of Houses, testing and tasting.

I could feel someone else's attention.

I peered around Ferne who stood to my right. Across from us, standing amongst her family, Elyse Estlore's gaze shot to mine.

My heart jolted.

There was strain on her face. Her golden skin had paled and her unnerving gaze was fixed on mine.

Oh my gods, she didn't recognize what's inside me, did she?

Lyressa and Urstlo were hungrily fixated on the tithe, on her pure soul shining like a beacon. But Master Sirro was still searching for me, a furrow between his brows. One arm was folded over his chest, while his other hand curled beneath his chin, a crooked finger brushing back and forth along his jawline, stroking through the bristles of his short neat beard.

Narrowed golden eyes bounced between the Estlores and Crowthers.

Inside, that familiar fizzing feeling bubbled in my veins and under my skin, as if I was going to erupt like a ripe peach split and full of juice. My chest fell and rose with short panicked breaths. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep the gasp for oxygen from resounding in the cold airy space.

I was breaking apart. I didn't know how much longer I could keep it together.

I trembled with the effort, my adamere bracelet shivering with me, as the creature fought to free itself. Fat drops of sweat rolled from my temples like tears. Gods, it was so powerful. I knew how powerful it could be.

Gripping my beads tighter, as tight as my hold on the thing thrashing around inside me, I willed it back down, begged it to hide—My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none.