Page 199 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“If you don’t hush, you are going to get us all killed!” hisses Lord Oliver.

My vision turns white with panic. What are Agatha and Oliver doing here? And why did Oliver sayallof us—as though to imply there were others taken? Who was taken? What is happening?

I yank my neck free of Pelarusa’s hold, taking advantage of the distraction, and whirl enough to catch a glimpse of a sight that sends my blood curdling.

Agatha is shoved to her knees behind me, her fine gown muddied and torn. Lord Oliver is next, his clothes in a similar state. He stares at me in shock and concern, but that concern quickly shifts to Mary, who is shoved hard to her knees beside him. Her red hair, always carefully pinned, sticks out in every direction.

Then, last of all, little Becky is added to the row.

That is it.

I thrash against my bonds, tearing into the gag with my teeth. I am going tomurderPelarusa. I am going to shred her to tiny pieces, and then I am going to burn this entire Court to the ground.

Lord Nothril glides past me, straight to the captives. I watch, helplessly, as he stops in front of Mary. Oliver’s eyes widen, glancing between the two of them. Bound as he is, he scoots himself partially in front of her. As though he can defend her. As though Lord Nothril cannot wipe him out with half a thought.

Lord Nothril grabs Mary’s chin. She does not look at him, not even when he tilts her face this way and that.

“I need a new slave girl,” he muses. “I’ve certainly had worse than this one. She might be half decent after some work.”

I am going to rip his fingers from the hand that touches my sister. I try to throw myself toward them, but Pelarusa drags me backward.

“Put the Ivy Mask in the dungeon,” orders Lady Nothril. “If Prince Rahk has trulysuccumbed, then he will arrive shortly.”

I try to shout through my gag. I try to fight. I try to swear via eye contact that I will get all four of them out of this.

But I am dragged away by a pair of guards, deep into the darkest part of the vast cave that is the Nothril palace.

They toss me in a frigid cell and slam the door shut. It echoes through what sounds like another large cavern. I give a frustrated, muffled scream and throw myself against the iron bars. If they touch Mary or Becky—if they hurt any of them—I am going to kill everything in this palace. I will destroy all of Faerie.

“Kat? Is that you?”

“Tailor!” I try to gasp through my gag.

“Come here,” he urges, standing at the grate between our cells. “I’ll remove your bonds.”

Gratefully, I get to my feet and press my back against the grate. His fingers are cold as he works the rope at my wrists. It falls off. I sigh in relief and unknot my gag before spitting it out.

“Are you alright?” I ask, clasping his hands through the narrow space. I blink against the darkness, trying to see him, to discover if he is alright. I cannot see a thing.

“I’m fine. Did our targets make it?”

“Yes, they did.” I say the words, believing that they are true even though I have no confirmation. “They made it out.”

“What happened? Did Prince Rahk catch you?”

I summarize what happened as we sit down, back-to-back on either side of the grate. A distant drip is the only sound aside from our breathing and the occasional shifting on the floor.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” I ask.

I can feel him nodding. “We are. Though your friends may have their lives. As slaves.”

Maybe this would all be easier to swallow if those people hadn’t been dragged into this situation. My heart breaks thinking of Charity, who must be losing her mind with fright and grief. My worry extends even to Agatha. She would never survive long as a slave. And neither will Oliver if he continues standing up to the fae on behalf of others.

And Mary.

I never, ever wanted something so terrible to ever befall her.

I was so desperate to save those eleven, I got three of the best people I know destined for a fate worse than death. And Agatha too. The weight of guilt presses me into the ground.

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