The entire time she'd been asleep she'd dreamt of poisonous silver piercing his heart. His beautiful blue eyes had grown ice-cold as they stared lifelessly at her. Accusingly at her.
"You're too late. Why were you late?" he'd asked her.
It was a dream, sívamet. A nightmare only. You eased the pain for me.
There can be no untruths between lifemates, she quoted him. It would be impossible to lessen your pain. The threads of silver remaining are still in your body burning just as severely as the ones I removed.
Perhaps that is so, but it felt less. Your love kept me safe from the Moarta de argint—death by silver.
Is that what they call this torture?
It absolves the Lycan council from all guilt. They didn't kill me. Essentially, I kill myself by moving my body constantly to try to get away from the pain and the silver works its way deeper. They can go to Mikhail with a clear conscience.
That made her furious. How could the Lycan council sentence Dimitri to such a torturous death and then go to a meeting with the Carpathians discussing becoming allies with them?
I'm going to remove more threads, Dimitri, but I won't be able to get them all. I'm going for the ones closest to your heart.
She didn't wait for his reply. She entered his body as pure spirit. The hooks she'd tampered with had remained closed off. No new silver had dripped into his body, but the ones she'd left had made progress. She knew what to do now. Calling on her mage heritage, she again used her gifts to push the silver from his body.
Silver, silver, so deadly, so bright,
I summon earth's power to stay your blight,
As you were created and formed deep within,
I command you, silver, to remove and ascend.
Silver threads that twine and harm,