“Who am I?” I snarled, tightening my grip on the short nightwalker. Her wide eyes stared up at me, confused and terrified. There was a smear of blood on her small chin. She had fed on Tristan as well. She deserved to die, consumed in the flames that surrounded her, and she knew it.

“The Fire Starter,” she whimpered in a strangled voice.

My frown hardened into a cold smile. “Tell them what I have done,” I commanded in a low, grating whisper. “Tell them that if anyone touches what belongs to me, I shall hunt them down and collect their hearts for display in my domain. Remind them of who I am.”

Still smiling, I shoved her away from me toward the far door on the left side of the room. A terrified scream escaped her as she threw up her arms to protect her face, fully expecting to be engulfed in the fire. But as she reached the ring of fire, I extinguished it so she would pass through untouched. She stumbled and fell to her ass. Quickly realizing she had escaped without being singed, she pushed back to her feet and disappeared through the side door.

My gaze slowly tripped around the room as my eyes adjusted to the lower levels of light. My brain took in the broken bodies and growing pools of blood as they spread about the room like small black lakes. After nearly a full minute, my eyes reached the far dais. Sadira remained on the stairs before Macaire’s seat, never moving from the spot she’d occupied when I entered the main hall.

My face was void of all emotion and my thoughts a blank slate. I wasn’t even aware that I was approaching her until I heard Tristan scream.

“No, Mistress!” he cried, twisting painfully so he could watch me, the chain still around his neck. His bleeding had stopped, for the most part, but he was weak. “She’s our mother.”

“My mother died centuries ago. She is nothing to me!” I shouted. Anger suddenly blossomed within chest and flowed through my veins like magma searching for an opening. I walked over to her, once again facing her soaked in the blood of others.

“You can’t touch me,” Sadira confidently announced. “I am part of the triad.”

I licked my lips as a grim smile graced my features, still edging closer. “If I’ve learned anything during the past few nights, it’s that you’re replaceable. I’ll find another.”

The triad had been the ones to create the seal that kept the naturi locked away. And with the naturi threatening to break free, we needed to reform the triad, considering that Tabor had been destroyed nearly fifty years ago. While no one seemed pleased with the choice, Danaus had become Tabor’s replacement. Maker or not, I had no doubt I could find a replacement for Sadira as well, if necessary.

“There’s not enough time.” Confidence still filled her voice, but she rose to her feet. “The new moon and the harvest holiday are in four nights, and they will use it to break the seal. You can’t destroy me if you hope to stop the naturi.”

“Please, Mistress!” Tristan begged. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left the room. Punish me.”

I paused, my teeth clenched in frustration. She was right that there wasn’t enough time to find a replacement. And with my luck, it would turn out to be another Thorne fiasco. I couldn’t risk it, no matter how much I loathed her.

“Why?” The single word came out strangled and fractured from the back of my throat.

“He’s weak. He has to be taught what it means to be a nightwalker.” Her shoulders straightened as she spoke, confident in her reasons for torturing one of her own precious children.

“Is this what it means to be a nightwalker?” I demanded, holding my bloody hands out to her.

“Yes,” she hissed, her composure cracking. Her thin, bony hands clenched into fists before her stomach. An unhealthy glow rose from her wide brown eyes. “It’s about power and not bowing to those weaker than you. I love Tristan, but he had to learn that.”

I snorted, my fingers trembling, sending drops of blood to the black marble floor. “If you think that is what tonight was about, you’re a fool. He was an appetizer and you let it happen. He relied on you for protection and you betrayed him. Tonight was about revenge. It was about striking back at me because you were too much of a coward to stand up to the court.”

“They would have killed me,” she argued, her voice wavering.

“Not yet. Like you said, you’re part of the triad. They would have toyed with you, but you would have survived. Unfortunately, Tristan wasn’t worth it for you. It was easier to hand him over.”

Turning sharply on a heel, I stalked back over to Tristan, who had been silently watching the petite tête-à-tête between mother and daughter. I wanted her to attack my back. I longed for one more small reason to lash out at her, just so the tiny voice of my battered conscience could use the excuse of self-defense when I ripped her head off. But Sadira never moved.

“Don’t come back to the suite,” I called back to her without turning around. “If I ever see you again after Rowe is defeated, I will kill you. And trust me, I will be looking forward to that day.”

“You’re not free of me, my Mira,” Sadira called, her sweet lilting voice burrowing its way under my skin: You belong to me. Tristan belongs to me. I am your maker. It was almost hypnotic, the way it drifted through my brain. There were no protective walls I could put up to guard against her intrusion into my mind. She was my maker; she would have access as long as she survived.

I spun on my heel to snarl at her, but as I turned, the Great Hall disappeared from around me. The massive stone walls and black marble floor were replaced by a worn wooden floor and uneven stone walls. Sadira had done the same trick before when I was severely wounded. She had mentally taken me to the dungeon I was reborn in. But this time I wasn’t in the dungeon. I was in the small farmhouse I had inhabited briefly back in Greece before Sadira kidnapped me.

A small whimper escaped me as I looked around the crude house that had given me such joy for an extremely short period of time. For a few years I’d lived in a home, was loved by my husband and adored by my sweet daughter Calla.

“Stop this, Sadira,” I commanded in the firmest voice I could muster. I struggled to hold onto the rage and violence that had driven me through my earlier fight.

“This is where it all started, my daughter,” she patiently replied. She stood before me in the open doorway, though I wasn’t sure if it was truly her or simply part of the illusion. Behind her, black night stretched in all directions. “This place was simply a dream. You were hiding. I set you free.”

“You kidnapped me!” I shouted. “I had no choice.” I took a step forward and swore I heard the floor creak beneath my feet.

“Mama,” cried a low, sleepy voice.

“No,” I gasped, taking another step toward Sadira, my arms wrapped tightly around my stomach. I moved away from the soft patter of little footsteps from the next room. “Don’t do this, Sadira. She’s not real. She’s dead. She’s been dead for centuries.”

“I know that, Mira, but you refuse to let her go,” Sadira gently said. Her voice was light, a caress, a soft touch on my cheek. This is your chance to say good-bye and then you can start over with me and Tristan. We will be your family. You won’t have this horrible weight hanging on you.”

I tried to close my eyes but it was all in my head. There was no escaping the images she wanted me to see. “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not—” but my words became lodged in my throat when a girl about three years old entered the room. She wore a long white shirt that just missed covering her small bare feet. A wealth of sleep-tangled black hair fell down her back. She stared up at me with her father’s brown eyes. But then, she got most of her looks from her father, and I was grateful about that. I didn’t want my daughter to be cursed like me, but perfectly normal like her father.