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“Were you aware that there was a prison here?” Elroth asked pointedly. “In a way station where any fae who asks should be guaranteed safety?”

Teegar scowled. “Even the dungeons have dungeons here, my king. The cells are where I picked up my supply, nice and hidden. Lord Farras never built this nightmare to be a safe place.”

Izetta glanced at Farras, who stood bolt upright, eyes blazing with fury. Teegar had doomed them both.

“That is all the confession I need for now.” Elroth nodded to his warriors. “Teegar is henceforth stripped of rank and title and shall be held for trial. See to it that representatives of the wolves and Undead have equal rank with the fae when it comes to judgment. The crimes of the Magician are not against us alone.”

The wolves and Undead made approving noises. Malatest and the Alpha stepped forward to nod their heads in thanks.

King Elroth returned the gesture. Then his attention went to Izetta. “Many thanks for your assistance, my lady.”

“You are welcome, sire, though I’m not a lady. I am Izetta.”

“Izetta. Your name is known even in the Gilden Wood. I am glad we met in pursuit of a common goal.”

She smiled, showing her fangs. “One word of advice, sire, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” he replied, his brows rising.

“The Magician had customers among your people. Don’t forget they’ll need you now.”

He put a hand to his heart. “I’m taking my people to a place of healing. I promise you they will have whatever they require.”

Izetta had heard plenty of promises from men with crowns, but Elroth seemed to mean it. She retreated to where the vampires stood while Lila and the silver-clad warrior returned Lord Gareth to his family.

Teegar was taken away. He cried and cursed as he vanished through the portal between two of the king’s warriors, while the wolves and vampires cheered.

“And now,” the king said, his eyes growing sharp. “What shall we do with Lord Farras?”

“Elroth is angry,” Malatest murmured as Izetta reached his side. “If I were Farras, I would grovel very hard.”

Errata appeared on her other side. Silently, Izetta handed her back her amulet.

The werecougar stuffed it in her pocket. “Good work up there. Can I get a copy of that video?”

Izetta didn’t reply. The warrior in black was dragging Farras before the king. The fae lord had lost none of his insolence, but his hands were shaking now. Whether it was fear or rage, she could not tell.

“Why?” Elroth asked Farras. “You are my cousin, wealthy and talented, and you have always had my ear. What could you want so dearly that I must die?”

The room grew so silent, Izetta thought she could hear the shadows slide along the floor.

“The sovereign power of the throne,” Farras said simply.

Color rose again in Elroth’s face. “Treason.”

“Call it creative self-interest.”

“Let me guess,” Elroth said dryly. “Killing me would only get you so far without the support of your peers, so you invented your drug to addict, bankrupt, or blackmail your way to an army of obedient hangers-on.”

“Oh, I did not invent bacchante, merely discovered a source.” Farras smiled, showing bloody teeth where a blow had cut the inside of his mouth. “And I rarely got involved in the details. There were so many other transactions that required my personal touch.”

A rustle of indrawn breath circled the hall. How many here had got that personal touch? By the sullen mood among the fae, Izetta guessed quite a few.

“Why involve other supernaturals?” Elroth demanded.

“For the gold,” Farras replied, catching and holding the king’s gaze. “If you got out more, you’d know money is as good as magic in the real world. You talk about a decline in fae power, but instead of navigating the future, you run back to the forest like a startled deer. Change happens, cousin, whether you embrace it or not.”

Elroth’s head jerked back as if a snake had reared before him. “Oh, cleverly spoken, Farras. You do enjoy the sharp edge of your honest wit.”

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