Page 82 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“Please, please, please, I beg you. Please don’t do this.”

She lifted me high in the air. Her children jumped, scratching at my feet with their little clawed hands.

“Feast, my children. Let her blood nourish you.”

I focused on the nearest hatchling and called my dagger to my hand.

Calypso dropped me.

I buried my dagger in the guppie’s skull. Blood splattered across my face.

The other children quickly moved to devour the dead siren.

“No… you monster!” Calypso cried.

“We are all monsters here.” I launched myself at her distracted and dismayed form, burying my dagger in her neck. Blood poured down her naked body to the waiting mouths of the hatchlings. “Feast.”

Calypso let out a guttural scream as I dragged Little Death through the thick flesh of her neck. Her tentacles clawed at me, sucking at my skin, but still I sawed through her flesh. Blood gurgled in her throat.

The life faded from her eyes and with her dying breath she said, “You’ll pay for this Mind Breaker.”

I set my jaw and with one final tear I severed her head from her neck. The body went limp beneath me.

Fisting her hair in my hand, I leapt from the throne onto the slick dais while the hungry hoard of hatchlings devoured thecorpse of their queen. The sounds of their teeth ripping through flesh made my skin crawl. I didn’t stay to witness the carnage. I had to get the song back from Ursula.

I fled, head in hand, as the cavern descended into madness. Sirens fled the flesh-eating frenzied guppies. The sound of their bodies hitting the water mixed with the sounds of screams as the hatchlings devoured their mothers.

Blood stained the once-pristine water, snaking its way out of the cavern and into the river.

Guards ducked out of the way as I passed, holding their queen’s head—her mouth still agape, frozen in fear for an eternity.

Once a safe distance away from the cave, I sank the head into the snow and fell to my knees in exhaustion. I had to tell Tharan. Word would spread of the queen’s death at the hands of a Woodland emissary.

Twisting the whisper stone, I waited for the reassuring sound of Tharan’s voice, but no answer came. He must be busy in the elven court.

I sighed, burying my face in my hands. I needed to find Ursula and get the song back. But first, I needed to get a bag to cover this head. I buried the monstrous thing in snow. Wiping the blood from my face, I headed toward the outskirts of Ruska.

The streets bustled with midday foot traffic while vendors sold their wares. Pulling my hood over my head, I approached the stall of a fishmonger. With a sleight of hand even Lucius would find impressive, I nabbed the nearest burlap sack, tucking it under my arm, before walking cooly out of the bazaar.

A rush of adrenaline dissipated any exhaustion I felt. I learned to be quick and quiet with my hands if I wanted to survive out in the world. Escaping Gideon meant leaving every possession behind. I sold the very dress off my back to put food in my belly. It was desperation that made me turn to mercenarywork, and I didn’t relish the memories that came with it, but I will say there was a thrill in stealing and not getting caught. Although the adrenaline from chopping off a queen’s head was nothing to scoff at.

With the bag secured, I headed back to where I hid the head and quickly concealed it. Now, I needed to find Ursula and get the song back.

Catching a ride on the back of a cart, I made my way to the docks. The bagged head shook as the cart rumbled over the cobblestones. I hoped Ursula would go back to her lair at the Rusty Bucket before making the arduous trip to the Undersea Palace.

I burst through the door to the dive. Blood seeped through the burlap sack, dripping on the grimy floor.

“Is she here?” I said to the bartender, whose eyes went wide at the sight of what remained of the blood still smeared across my face and the bag in my hand.

He nodded frantically and pointed up the stairs.

Flinging her door open. I found Ursula frantically trying to wake one of her paramours.

“Come on, get up. We have to go,” she said, tugging at the man’s limp body. I recognized the signs of overdose. This man had likely mixed too much alcohol with dust and choked on his own vomit. The other woman sat crumbled in the corner, hiding her face.

I didn’t have time for empathy. In an instant I was on top of her, fist clenched around her delicate neck. Her eyes went wide.

“Is this how you saw your little plan going?” I squeezed tighter.

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