"What you did to Sibyl and Maura was understandable. Our son had died. You were grieving. Distraught." And because of what Gilda had done, his girls would never grow up. As much as that hurt, he'd forgiven her, hoping his daughters would follow his example.

They hadn't.

"That's not what I'm talking about," she said. "There are things about me you don't know. Terrible things. I'm not sure how much longer I can live with these secrets. They're eating me from the inside, gnawing at me."

Angus was careful to hide his shock. He thought he knew everything about his wife, but perhaps he'd been wrong. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"It is. I've taken so much from you. From all of you."

"What are you talking about, love? The only thing you've taken from me is your touch. We're past that now, aren't we?" He hoped so. He hoped that her letting him hold her now was a sign her stubbornness was at an end. Finally.

"Once I tell you, you won't want to touch me ever again."

Angus tilted her body, hooked his thumb under her chin, and turned her head so she would look at him. "There is nothing you can do that I wouldn't love you enough to forgive."

Her dark eyes glittered with tears. "You're wrong, Angus."

"Tell me. Tell me what you've done that's so bad, because I think you're wrong."

A single tear spilled over, and the sadness he saw in her face nearly made him weep. "I've tried to live without you these last seven months. I thought the distance between us would make my betrayal easier to bear."

"What betrayal?"

Angus tried to reach through their link and see what was going on in her head, but he couldn't get through. All he could feel was her barely constrained panic and a sense of grief so thick he didn't know how she could stand it.

She looked down in shame. "It was the night Isaac died."

Isaac. Their youngest son. He'd died in battle, along with three other Theronai. But that had been so long ago. Two centuries. As much as he still ached for his lost son, he also felt a huge swelling of pride for what he'd done that nighta"for the man he'd grown to become and the countless lives he'd saved. He'd sacrificed his life, but it hadn't been in vain. The descendants of the humans he'd saved that night still lived on, making the world a better place.

Angus caressed her arm, hoping to comfort her. "Love, anything you did that long ago I already know. Whatever it is you think you did, I've already forgiven you."

"No. You're wrong. I've hidden it. So carefully, so deep, I know you've never seen my shame."

"Then tell me now so I can forgive you and you can heal. Let's get past this. The lives of our people depend on our strength, our example."

"Yours, maybe. I'm afraid my example has been lacking."

"Tell me, Gilda. I can't imagine a thing you could do so bad I would stop loving you."

She fell silent. Pulled in a breath. Her body shuddered, as if uttering the words after holding them in so long was a struggle. "The night Isaac died, I was destroyed. I knew the moment I heard the news that my heart would never be whole again. I couldn't bear the pain, and knew I couldn't allow it to happen again. I couldn't lose another child."

Angus remembered that night, despite his desire to forget. Their link had intensified their pain, as they each not only suffered their own grief, but the other's as well. Rather than cling to him for support, as he'd ached for her to do, she'd fleda"run into the hills and shut down. When she came back, she was colder. Harder.

"I went into the woods," she said. "I gathered as much power into me as I could hold, hoping it would kill me and take away the pain. I raged at the unfairness of our son's death. Why hadn't it been me that had died instead of him? Why hadn't it been one of the other men? I'd already given so much to this war. How could G.o.d take our last living son, too?"

Angus had no answers. He sat in silence, giving her time to work up her courage to say whatever it was she had to say.

"The power in me kept growing and yet I didn't die. That made me angrier. I knew I couldn't ever again allow another child of mine to die, so I vowed never again to conceive. I would not give any more of my heart's blood to this war."

Her voice quieted, vibrating with shame. "I hadn't intended for my magic to do what it did. I hadn't planned any of this, or had a single conscious thought as to what it might mean, but there was so much power, so much grief and rage that it went out of control. The power ripped from my body, doing my unconscious will, shimmering out from the top of that hill in waves so strong I could see the trees shake as it pa.s.sed."

"What magic?" asked Angus. "What had you done?"

"For years our people have believed that our men are infertile because of something the Synestryn did to us. I've let them believe it, but it's a lie." She pulled in a deep breath. "I did it, not our enemy. It was me. My magic spread out over the face of the planet, rendering every male Theronai sterile, because only then could I be sure I'd never conceive."

Shock choked the breath from Angus's body. "You did that to us? To me?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

How could she have done that? How could she have destroyed their entire race so utterly? He couldn't fathom why she would have done something like that, even in her grief. He knew she hadn't consciously planned to sterilize them, but that intent had come from hera"from somewhere inside her he didn't recognize. A dark, selfish place.

Angus needed some time to digest this news, to process it and make sense of it. His entire perspective shifted. Not only did he now know that his ability to have children had been stolena"not by his enemy, but by his wifea"he also realized something he never thought possible.

Gilda could lie to him. She'd been lying for years. Centuries.

That was the betrayal that hurt most. He'd given her everything he had, everything he was. He breathed for her. She was his very blood. He could no more keep a secret from her than he could stop the Earth from spinning. Lying to her seemed inconceivable.

And yet she'd lied so easily to him, which made him wonder what else she'd lied about.

Angus hated seeing her in this light. He hated looking at her, wondering what other secrets she held from him.

He felt her reaching for him through their link, and for the first time in memory, he blocked her out. Not because he didn't want her to feel his pain, but because he couldn't stand the thought of having her inside him right now.

Angus settled her body against the wall of the tub and got out. He needed some time to think. To be alone. Or at least away from Gilda.

He didn't even bother drying off, just dragged his clothes over his wet skin and left. As he shut the door behind him, he caught a glimpse of the luceria ring on his finger.

The deep storm-cloud gray swirls that had been frozen in place for centuriesa"the patterns that had been with him so long he'd memorized their every curvea"began to move.

The bond he had with Gilda, his Gray Lady, was coming undone. He knew that if it was broken, it would mean his death. The fact that the notion didn't bother him overmuch told him just how deeply Gilda's betrayal had cut him.

Gilda's tears dripped into the water. It had grown cold, making her shiver, but she didn't get out. The small punishment the cold gave her was nothing compared to what she deserved.

She should have known that the weight of her secret would not be relieved by telling Angus. Instead, the hurt she'd caused him weighed her down even more.

He was too good a man for her. He didn't deserve the pain she'd heaped on him.

He didn't deserve hera"being chained to her for eternity.

Gilda knew what she had to do. She had to pull herself together, use every bit of waning strength she had to rescue Tori, and pray to G.o.d that the girl would be compatible with Angus so she could set him free.

Of course, there was only one way she could do that. She'd promised him she'd stay by his side as long as she lived, which meant she'd have to die.

The idea didn't scare her. She was tired of living with all this grief, tired of fighting, and watching the people she loved die. As hard as it would be to let Angus go, especially into the arms of another woman, she knew it was the right thing to do.

The Sentinels needed Angus. He was too strong a warrior to let go. He would live on and keep fighting for as long as it took to defeat the Synestryn.

Gilda couldn't.

Now that the decision was made, everything else seemed so simple. So clear.

She got out of the tub, put on her favorite silk gown, and went to say good-bye to her daughter. Sibyl wouldn't speak to hera"she hadn't in decadesa"but by G.o.d, she would listen.

Chapter 19.

Ricky answered his cool new cell phonea"the one the guy with the creepy eyes gave him. Their meetings were fuzzy, but he remembered the guy saying someone would call.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"It's time," rasped a whispering voice over the line. "Do you understand?"

"Who?" asked Ricky automatically.

"Nika Madison."

Even though the voice didn't tell him what it was time for, deep down Ricky knew. He had a vague memory of a suitcase of supplies someone he knew had given him. He couldn't remember who it was, but he had hidden that box in the back of his closet. He hadn't even remembered it was there until now.

Instructions flooded his mind, compelling his feet to move. He abandoned the video game he'd been playing and went to his room, ignoring the angry voices of his buddies behind him.

It was only a short walk from his room to where he knew he'd find her.

Ricky suffered a moment of fear that the giant, angry Theronai Madoc might be there, but that fear seemed to evaporate as soon as it came, leaving him numb.

All he had to do was what he was told and everything would be fine. He'd be free to live his life, no longer a prisoner of Dabyr and all its stupid rules.

Madoc left to talk to Joseph. Nika had lain down to reach out for Tori when someone knocked at the door.

She opened it, and a young man, about sixteen years old, stood there.

"Can I help you?"

"Is Madoc here?" he asked, looking past her almost nervously.

"No. He'sa"" She didn't have time to finish the sentence. He barreled through the doorway, grabbing her throat in one strong hand. He kicked the door shut behind him and shoved a rag over her nose and mouth.

A sharp, medicinal scent burned her nose and throat. She clawed at his arm, but it did no good. Her fingers had gone weak, boneless.

The world began to fade away, and with one last panicked thought, she shouted Madoc's name.

Ricky had done it. He'd knocked the crazy chick out. Now all he had to do was get her outside the walls and he was free. No more Sentinel prison. No more boring school all year round. No more rules.

The guy with the creepy eyes was going to give him more money than he could spend in one lifetime. They'd already gotten him an apartment and a sweet ride. And they'd promised not to kill the girla"he'd made sure of that.

Ricky was no murderer.

He peeked out into the hall and saw no one coming. He grabbed the big suitcase, rolled it into the suite, shoved the crazy chick's body in it, and zipped it closed.

She was so skinny, she fit easily. No sweat.

He'd pop her in the trunk, then drive out the gates. He was allowed outside the walls during daylight one day a month. Today was that day, and it was going to be the last time he ever had to ask for permission again.

Madoc!

Nika's shout slammed into his brain, propelled by pure, raw panic. Fear exploded inside him as he realized she was in trouble. Big trouble.

He was halfway to Joseph's office, but he spun on his heel and sprinted back the way he came. He reached out for her through their link, feeling nothing.

If she was dead . . .

His feet pounded hard. He accidentally shouldered a kid out of his way as he pa.s.sed, slamming him into a wall. The kid tripped and fell, but Madoc didn't give a f.u.c.k.

He ripped his cell from his belt and dialed Nicholas. "Something's happened to Nika. Can you see her?"

"I'm looking now. Hold on."

Madoc kept the phone pressed to his ear and fumbled for his key card as he ran, dropping it. He didn't stop to pick it up. "Unlock my door or I'm breaking it down."

He rounded the corner, saw the light on his lock turn green, and slammed through the opening like a battering ram.

"Nika!"

She didn't answer. A frantic, ten-second search of the place showed no sign of her.

Nicholas's voice buzzed in his ear. "There was a boy at your door. He pushed his way into the suite. Came out thirty seconds ago towing a big suitcase."

Madoc had pa.s.sed him. "If he hurt her, the little p.i.s.sant f.u.c.ker's going to die."

He charged back out into the hall, chasing down the kid. As he cleared the corner, he saw the boy look over his shoulder, panic, and sprint away, leaving the suitcase behind.

"I see him," said Nicholas. "Let him go. Take care of Nika."

Like he had to be told that. He'd find and kill the f.u.c.ker later. Right now he needed to get to Nika.

It seemed to take forever to reach the end of the hall. It stretched out into eternity, growing longer with every step he took.

What if she wasn't in the suitcase? Even worse, what if she was, but it was too late?

A million different thoughts flooded Madoc's mind, clogging it with terror. He felt streaks of wetness drying on his cheeks, but paid them no attention.

Finally, he reached the bag and ripped the zipper open. Nika lay curled inside, her head bent at an awkward angle. She didn't make a sound. He couldn't see her chest move.

A wounded sound poured out of him with every breath. His hands shook as he reached for her.