Page 6 of The Realm That Falls to Her

I can’t help but stiffen at Hadeus’s words, but Destan’s mask of indifference is better than mine as he twirls his knife.

“Now, I don’t know if you’re aware, Eleanor, but the area around the collarbone is actually a very sensitive part of the fae body,” Destan says. “I understand that several very important nerve clusters run right over it, making any injury there excruciating for the victim.” He applies another swift cut to the flesh above the bone and Hadeus moans, sweat beading on his brow. “Lord Swallowtail may already be aware of this, but it’s probably worth reminding him that if he doesn’t start talking soon, I’ll be forced to demonstrate.”

I’m interrupted from wondering how Destan knows all this when Hadeus spits in his face.

“Very well,” Destan says, digging his knife into Hadeus’s flesh once more. He goes deeper this time, releasing a trail of blood down Hadeus’s chest. Hadeus’s cry is guttural, and he writhes against the ground, but can’t free the hands bound beneath him.

“Who knows, we might get down to the bone at this rate. Would you like to see the color of your own bones, Lord Swallowtail?”

“Stop,” he moans. “No.”

“Then tell us where Evanthe and the prince went.”

“I don’t know,” Hadeus wails. “It wasn’t planned. One minute they were fighting and then?—”

He clams up, as if only now realizing he has information that might be useful to us. Destan sighs.

“And we were just getting somewhere.” He raises the knife, but my hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist.

“Wait.”

Destan looks at me, curious. I want to find out where Ruskin is as much as he does, but this doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere. Maybe a new approach would be more effective. I have no interest in watching Hadeus suffer for the sake of it, no matter how conniving he might be. I might not be as squeamish as I once was, but I take no pleasure in torture.

“Listen, Hadeus,” I say, trying to catch the squirming man’s eyes to ensure he’s listening. “Evanthe isn’t on your side. She isn’t on anyone’s other than her own. She thinks the Seelie Court is a cesspool of greed and vanity that deserves to be punished. And do you know how she’s going to do that?”

Hadeus starts to say something, but Destan cuts him off with a wave of his knife.

“Have some manners and let her talk,” he says.

“She’ll do it with all the iron she’s been polluting the court with the last few weeks,” I continue, putting every ounce of sincerity I can into my tone. “She’s behind the attacks; she’s the one who’s been killing off the Seelie, and she’ll do the same thing to the whole kingdom if you give her the chance.”

I stare into Hadeus’s eyes, urging him to believe me, or at least show some glimmer of doubt—a willingness to entertain the possibility he might have backed the wrong horse.

But all I see there is blind rage and hate.

“Lies,” Hadeus bites out. “That’s all your kind ever have to offer. Disgusting, duplicitous creatures.”

“Can I skewer him now?” Destan asks.

“Don’t you see?” I say, desperate for Hadeus to come to his senses. “She’s getting you to tie your own noose to hang yourselves with. The more you help her, the closer you are to destroying everything you care about.”

“If she hasn’t killed your precious prince already, I hope she makes you watch, you two-faced whore.”

Destan drags his knife over Hadeus’s skin, slicing deep enough that I’m surprised he doesn’t flay him down to the bone.

Hadeus loses all composure. The scream that leaves his lungs rattles my ear drums long after it’s ended. It’s awful, and I study Destan’s grim face with a fresh view of him. I don’t want to watch the scene play out, but it seems hypocritical to turn away and let Destan do the dirty work. He works Hadeus over for ten more minutes, nicking and slicing, until the blond fae cannot stand it any longer.

“All right,” Hadeus begs when he finds his breath again, his arrogance leeched from him by Destan’s blade. “All right, I’ll tell you what I know, but please no more.” His words are labored, slurred with pain. Destan and I eagerly wait for him to go on.

“They were fighting. The usurper had tried to bind the High Queen, but she freed herself with a powerful spell—I could feel it in the air—just as Prince Ruskin tried to open a portal in the lake. I believe he was going to pull her through it.”

Hadeus coughs, the pain he’s in making his eyes water until a tear runs down the side of his face.

“And?” Destan prompts.

He takes a deep breath, every word clearly costing him effort.

“Then something happened to the water. It collapsed in on itself, becoming like a kind of black pit. No sunlight could touch it. They went through it, but after that, I do not know. There was too much smoke, and when it cleared, the High Queen was lost to us too.”

---