I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Good.”

Sarad Nukpana knew that my dad had escaped the Saghred and whose body he was living in. There was no statute of limitations on Saghred stealing. If anyone discovered that Arlyn Ravide was my father, Eamaliel Anguis, he would be arrested and tried, with execution being a foregone conclusion.

I closed the distance between us and hugged him, tightly. “Be careful.”

“Whenever possible. I know I’m probably wasting my words, but would you please do the same?”

I smiled and glanced at Vegard. “Whenever possible.”

Dad’s expression was stern. “Raine, souls came out of you and went into Reapers; those same Reapers damned near killed you to get more. And Mychael told me what happened with the mage’s specter in the bordello.”

“Nothing happened. I stopped it.”

“Did you? You are strong, incredibly so, but—”

I knew where he was going. Strong, but not strong enough. “Mychael calls me stubborn,” I said to lighten the mood.

“Raine, the Saghred and those Reapers have existed for untold millennia. They know how to get what they want. Have a care, daughter. Please. I didn’t fight my way out of the Saghred to watch you be consumed by it—or by those who hunt it.” He paused, his solemn eyes on mine. “Those Reapers were coming for you. Yes, they took the sorcerer’s specter first. It was easier prey. But what attracted them was you.”

Kalta tactfully cleared his throat. “Miss Benares, if I may ask a question.”

A question from a nachtmagus probably wasn’t a question I wanted to think about, let alone answer. “Go ahead.”

“When the souls came out of you, were they struggling against the Reapers . . . or were they struggling against you?”

Kalta knew the answer just as well as I did.

“They were struggling to get out of me.” I took a deep, steadying breath. “Nothing’s ever hurt me that bad in my life.”

He regarded me somberly. “It is the nature of spirits to cross over. Most not only want to; they need to. Only the most angry or confused spirits refuse to go—they either want revenge, or they won’t admit, or simply don’t know, that they’re dead. Crossing over completes the cycle of life into death. It is the natural way of things.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Pardon me for disputing the natural order, but what happened sure as hell didn’t feel natural to me.”

“No doubt. You are the vessel that holds them prisoner.” He paused. “You and the Saghred are virtually one.”

He didn’t need to spell it out for me. I knew. I knew it to the point that I’d given up trying to deny or forget it. The closer the Saghred and I became, the more often the Reapers would appear. Like Sarad Nukpana, they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted.

Death had all the time in the world.

Mine was running out.

Mychael wanted me to stay in the citadel. I had to leave the citadel, and I had a good reason.

Like Piaras, I had lessons.

I was learning how to kill Sarad Nukpana.

And today those lessons would have the added bonus of giving me a much-needed outlet for my growing fear, frustration, and rage. Yes, I could have taken it out on a Guardian in their gym, but that wasn’t the kind of workout I needed. Well, it was, but I required a specialist. No Guardian was a master swordsman with the long, curved blades favored by goblins.

Tamnais Nathrach was.

So was Sarad Nukpana.

Since Nukpana had oozed his way out of the Saghred, I’d made it my goal to not only know every way that Nukpana, his Khrynsani, or any other goblin could possibly come after me, but have a lethal response ready for each and every one of them.

Tam could help. He’d known Sarad Nukpana at the goblin court, and fenced with him on numerous occasions. Not with deadly intent, but when goblin courtiers crossed blades, blood was spilled. Naturally, it was always an unfortunate accident.

Mychael didn’t like it. Not the lethal response part; he didn’t like me being anywhere near Tam. Tam was a dark mage; my connection with the Saghred made me a dark mage magnet. The two of us together with the Saghred wasn’t just trouble for us; it could be trouble for every living creature, period, not to mention civilization, such that it was.

The Saghred didn’t just forge our umi’atsu bond; the rock specifically chose Tam to pair me with.

Tam used to be the chief mage for the royal House of Mal’Salin, the late goblin queen’s magical enforcer, and possibly one of the most powerful dark mages there was. The Saghred didn’t want to use Tam; it wanted Tam to use it. The rock was starving and it wanted souls. And after the escape of those four souls yesterday, it had to be more desperate than ever. There was no way in hell that I was feeding the thing and the Saghred knew it, so it forged an umi’atsu bond between me and Tam. Since I refused to feed it, given enough time and temptation, Tam just might. But that didn’t mean the rock was giving up on me; what happened in that bordello was proof.

Like I said, Mychael didn’t want me near Tam, but he agreed with me learning to defend myself in every way Sarad Nukpana could possibly attack me. He had just one condition; actually it was more like two dozen conditions.

I was on horseback, riding to Tam’s nightclub, surrounded by at least two dozen mounted and absurdly well-armed Guardians. Needless to say, anyone we met gave us a wide berth. It was late afternoon, and the sun was starting to go down behind some of the Conclave’s government buildings, throwing most of the city streets into shadow.

I’d sent word ahead to Tam that what had happened with the Reapers wasn’t keeping me from my lesson, so the front doors were unlocked and unwarded. The main floor of the theatre was usually filled with small tables covered in crisp white cloths, each with two or four chairs. The second-floor dining suites were like private boxes in a fine theatre. Columns stretched from the floor to the high, vaulted ceiling, carved with mermaids and mermen—sirens that could sing men or women to their doom—or somewhere much more enjoyable.

Today the tables were bare of cloths and most of them were stacked against the far walls, leaving the center of the floor clear and open. Officially Sirens was closed for renovation. In reality, Tam had closed the club until the present situation had been dealt with. Tam had a lot of potentially fatal “situations” other than being in an umi’atsu bond with me and Mychael, and he didn’t want running a nightclub to distract him from staying alive, nor did he want some of his clients being killed because they had the poor timing to walk between Tam and someone bent on killing him.

Tam was waiting for me. He was wearing sleek, dark fencing clothes with his black hair pulled back in a long goblin battle braid. His strong hands were bare, and a pair of steel-mesh dueling goggles dangled from his long fingers.

Like most goblins, Tam was tall and leanly muscled, and as I’d experienced on more than one occasion, Tam was also lightning quick. His pale gray skin set off what was a goblin’s most distinctive feature—a pair of fangs that weren’t for decorative use only. A goblin wouldn’t hesitate to use them if a fight turned dirty. Tam wouldn’t hesitate to use them if I got within nibbling range.

Tam’s black eyes gleamed in the club’s dim lighting, lighting he wasn’t going to turn up for our lesson. Sarad Nukpana’s goblin eyes were at their best in this kind of light. Either I learned to adapt or I learned to be dead.

A table near the wall held an array of bladed goblin weapons. Chances were any fighting I’d be doing would be with magic, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. I’d always considered myself a good fencer; and when the situation called for it, I wasn’t squeamish about killing. If it came down to me or them, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me. Survival was a powerful motivator.