CHAPTER 98
Isabella seemed to had vanished from the face of the earth, tucked away in a pocket of reality that his current, weakened senses could not pierce.
"I can't find her," Lucain voice was thick with the restrained agony. "The air is empty, Clara. The bond is screaming, but it's screaming from nowhere. It's as if she's stepped outside of time."
The only thing keeping him calm was the fact that she was still alive, the agony pushing through the bond. He turned his crimson gaze toward the witch, who was still catching her breath, her hands stained with the soot of his agony.
He knew his own limits; he was a king of force, of shadow, and of blood, but he lacked the delicate, weaving intuition of the craft.
To find someone hidden, he needed a different kind of sight. "Clara," he said, his voice dropping into a commanding register that brooked no argument.
