Page 47 of The Serpent's Bride
Luciento paused by the door as he headed out of the room to glance back at her. John and the two men who brought herin were staying behind. His smile was sad. Kind. “May your ancestors come for you quickly,liga.”
It was an old blessing, given to those who were destined to die. Because sometimes the best fate was a quick and painless death. Luciento didn’t want to kill her. She was just bait, like he had said.
Lords of the deep, how many people had she killed in the name of a so-called greater good? All in the name of trying to stop the same bastard that Luciento was hunting?
She smiled at him. “I understand. And I forgive you.”For more than you know, old man.
He put his hand over his heart and bowed his head before leaving the room with his clan.
Letting out a breath, she shut her eyes. Great. Fantastic. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tip the chair over, in an attempt to knock herself unconscious. Or maybe split her skull open and end the misery.
Because she had a serious moons-damned problem ahead of her.
The three people holding her hostage were part of her ownclan.They were herpeople.Sure, she had left them behind ages ago, but that wasn’t their fault. And while these humans were strangers to her, they were family.Family!
It had been her own bitterness about Luciento’s decisions that had kept her from running to him after her family’s death. And then…it’d simply been too late to change course. For all they knew, she was dead. She’d decided she was going to kill the Nostroms, and that was that.
And that was still her mission in life. Wasn’t it?
That meant the right thing to do was to be bait. To sit in the trap, and willingly die. Or, honestly, to tell her captors everything—who she was, what she was doing—get Luciento back into the room, confess her secret, and tell them that shewould sacrifice her life for him if it meant she took Raziel down with her.
That was what sheshoulddo.
She should shout “saestren!” after Luciento. Calling himunclein fae would get his attentionrealfast. The scene played out in her head perfectly. She’d have a tearful reunion with him. Embrace and forgive him for getting his family killed. She would play the bait as Monica. Luciento would lay his trap for Raziel as planned.
But there was a problem.
She didn’t trust Luciento.
She hadn’t known him fordecades.
How careful was the fae patriarch’s plan? How trustworthy were his people? How many of them were secretly working for the Nostroms or any rival families? How many of them had already reported her location to the human authorities?
The scheme could already be doomed to fail for a thousand reasons. Maybe Raziel wouldn’t come in the first place. Maybe he’d laugh in the face of whatever scheme Luciento had planned and send him a “thanks for dealing with my marriage situation for me” card and a bouquet of flowers.
Or maybe Raziel had paid Luciento to do it in the first place.
She knew that if she were left to her own devices, she had a decent chance at killing Raziel. But whatever the Iltanis had planned?
It just wasn’t something she could risk her life on.
Literally.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Squeezing her eyes tight, she lowered her head and let out a frustrated sigh. She didn’t want any of this. Killing vampires or their human goons was one thing. Killing fae…was it worth it? Was it really honestly worth it?
Raziel would keep killing her kind. The Nostroms were responsible for hundreds of fae deaths. And would be responsible for hundreds or thousands more if they weren’t stopped.
She just needed time. Time to dismantle the Nostroms, one by one, from within. This wasn’t a war that could be won quickly. She needed to act carefully, decisively, and plan out each murder with precision. And this? This wasn’t precise. This was a flash grenade thrown into a black powder storehouse.
There were only three Iltanis in the room with her. She only had to take down three of them. Just three. What were three more souls on her conscience? Her ancestors weren’t coming for her when she died. No, she was going straight to the void, and she knew it. Besides—she had no family to watch over. No one to care for. Why would her soul ever need to linger?
Opening her eyes, she stared down at the grimy tile between her feet. Her stockings had been champagne-colored but were now splotchy with dirt and soot. The tile looked like it hadn’t fared much better in its life. It had once been white, but now was caked with dirt and what looked like a mix of…dried blood? It had that rusty and ruddy reddish-brown color she recognized a little too easily.
Wherewasshe?
