Page 69 of Fae Champion

“Lord Sandor was tortured before he was killed.” Pru left the bathing room.

I stalked after her. “That’s … I mean, that’s awful. But it was to be expected, wasn’t it?”

“It was. But the queen went down there with Ivar and Braque, and they’re the ones who tortured him.”

I swallowed thickly as I dripped water onto the hardwood floor. “I take it they aren’t usually the ones who do that?”

“No. The queen has pygmy ogres for that. Nasty creatures.”

“I’ll bet.” I slipped into another robe Pru offered me, then followed her directions to sit at the vanity so she could comb out my hair. “Just spit it out, please.”

Her gaze pinned on the tangled strands that stretched past my waist. “I don’t know everything that happened and I don’t want to. Goblins come and go in the fae dungeon only to deliver food and water to the prisoners and pygmy ogres, nothing more. No one cleans there.”

Disgust clogged my throat before I managed to gulp it down. It must smell awful.

“Lord Sandor was flayed alive, his skin peeled off, before his hands and feet, then his arms and legs, were”—she cleared her throat—“hacked off.”

Horror made me silent.

“Lord Braque or Ivar, one of them, kept him from bleeding to his death while the queen asked herquestions. By the end of it, she uncovered a plot against her.”

I scarcely breathed.

“Drake Rush and his friends are all involved, but you’re at the helm of it. And the king himself is behind it all. It’s why he sent men to get you, because he knows you have the power to take her down.”

I whirled on her so fast I took the comb with me. A moment later it clattered mutely on the rug beneath the vanity. I gaped. “I-I don’t. What the hell? I had no idea about the king or her before Sandor and Dougal and them showed up to take me!” The breath heaved through my nostrils. “I don’t even talk with the king. He’s practically a stranger.”

Pru retrieved the comb and continued untangling the locks that were thoroughly tousled thanks to Rush’s efforts in bed.

“Men will say many things under torture,” Pru offered.

I met her eyes in the vanity mirror. “And Finnian?”

“From what the goblin heard, Lord Sandor didn’t accuse him.”

“And…?” I barely dared say his name, not wanting him to be involved at all. I whispered, “What about Reed?”

“The male from the stables?”

“Yes,” I breathed, my heartbeat too fast as I waited. He seemed too innocent, toonicein a world where that was uncommon, for the queen to set her sights on him.

“He wasn’t mentioned that I know of.”

I sucked in a ragged inhale. “And the others? Rush, Hiroshi, Ryder, and West? Rush is her favorite.”

“Yes, yes he was.”

My pulse thundered through my head, making my thoughts wispy, elusive, difficult to hold on to. “What do I do?” My question sounded like someone else’s.

“Mistress wants Pru’s advice?” I nodded. “Ladies and lords never ask for goblins’ advice.”

“I’m not a regular lady.”

Her eyes softened. “True, you are not.” She mumbled to herself, then, “Do whatever you must to survive.”

“And what about the guys?”

“They’ve been plotting against her for a very long time. They’ll be ready.”

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