“One sign, Dorian,” she said. “Just give me one sign that you’re in there.” The Valg prince laughed low and harsh, that beautiful face twisted with ancient brutality. His sapphire eyes were empty as he said, “I am going to destroy everything you love.” She raised her father’s sword in both hands, advancing still. “You’d never do it,” the thing said. “Dorian,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “You are Dorian.” Seconds—she had seconds left to give him. Her blood dripped onto the gravel, and she let it pool there, her eyes fixed on the prince as she began tracing a symbol with her foot. The
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