My four friends kneel where I left them. Agatha shudders and shivers, a bruise blossoming on her face. Mary’s face is hard like flint as she stares at the floor. Becky has scooted into Oliver, who has twisted his body to wrap what he can of his elbow around her small body. He whispers something to her that looks like,“Keep your eyes closed.”
A dozen fae guards flank the thrones, ready to obliterate any opposition within seconds.
Pelarusa stands in the midst of the throne room. Her slender arm bears a long, wicked blade dripping with blood. And at her feet are the mangled, bloodied remains of Jacob Everfells. A pair of crushed spectacles lay nearby.
My crudely propped courage crumbles. My knees give out, and my guards have to hold me upright as they deposit me in a heap next to Jacob’s corpse. I refuse to look, to imagine the pain he experienced—and that I will soon experience too. Rahk is not here to kill me quickly. Pelarusa will make me suffer.
And Mary and Becky will have to watch.
“So this is it,” Lady Nothril declares with a grand sweep of her hand, indicating me. “Thislittle thing is what caused all that trouble for all those years.”
“And evaded Rahk for two moons?” spits Lord Nothril.
A chortle erupts from Pelarusa. She leans down to grab my hair and yank my head back to expose my neck. “He evenbondedwith her!”
It’s Pavi’s sweet, trembling voice that breaks the silence. “If he bonded with her, does that mean he loves her?”
“You spend too much time with your nose in tales of romance,” Pelarusa chides her. “Love is irrelevant to the situation.”
“Where is Rahk anyway?” Lord Nothril snarls. “I will have his head! He is no son of mine.”
The throne room doors bang open.
“I am here.”
I twist. There is Rahk, marching into the scene, arrayed in full armor, both of his long blades in his hands. His face is a thundercloud, and icy vengeance swirls around him.
“I have come for my wife. If anyone has laid a finger on her, I will raze this entire Court to dust.”
Chapter 67
Rahk
Katkneels,onehandbraced on her leg, the other against the floor. Her hair is wild, her eyes ringed in white. Only two paces away are the remains of what appear to be the Valehaven Tailor.
I only barely made it in time.
I take in the rest of the room in a flash. The placement and identity of each guard, the arrangement of Pelarusa’s additional four captives, my two sisters.
“You are back,” growls Lord Nothril. “What a privilege to have you finally grace our presence!”
Lady Nothril strokes Pavi’s head. Her calm, steady voice carries through the hall. “My dear son. I am troubled by the reports I have received of you.”
It frightens me how strong the impulse is to sheathe my swords, clasp my hands behind my back, and fix my gaze above her throne as I’ve always done. To ask, without an ounce of emotion, what my sovereigns require of me.
But Lord and Lady Nothril have asked me for one too many deaths.
Kat ismine, and they cannot have her.
I do not care what it costs me. I have spent so much of my life trying to somehow be both, to be a Nothril prince but uncorrupted. I let Lord and Lady Nothril dictate everything in my life. I let them punish me for caring about my sister.
But I am done playing their games. I am done being their prince.
I have finally come to destroy the kingdom I spent my life building.
“I hear reports that you have been lazy in your search efforts, despite your own dear sister’s life being on the line.” Lady Nothril rakes her nails lightly across Pavi’s scalp, even as the girl looks up at her, startled. Pavi did not know what a blood oath entailed. “I heard you bonded with a human woman, and the very criminal you sought. If I did not know better, I would think your loyalties had shifted.”
I take in the room once more. I am confident I can get Kat and I out of this room alive. But the moment I do, Lady Nothril will slice her beloved daughter’s throat—and order Mary, Oliver, Becky, and Agatha all slaughtered.