There was more darkness swirling around than usual, trying to comfort her. He would never admit to his pang of jealousy at the sight. Rejection, in all of its forms, was too familiar an experience for him to start letting it affect things now.
Still, he struggled to unlock his jaw. Responding to her question was difficult when he didn’t quite know the answer himself.
He’d planned it all perfectly, or so he’d thought.
Use the tincture she’d given him on the Second Commander instead of Brand. Create chaos. Draw them all into the chasm. Let the children feed. Dance over their warping bones.
The next step was supposed to have been Faldir returning to find them all gone, and then using the Third’s grief to his advantage with no one the wiser.
Especially her.
First Endellion’s little rebellion, and now this. It was all fucked.
He’d have to be all the more careful. More artful. One way or another, the Demons would be realizing there was a villain in their midst and take the necessary precautions—not that he viewed himself as such.
No, no. He was the hero in this story. He simply needed everyone else to stop beingso. fucking. unpredictable.
“A message was delivered, as you requested. The plan was sound. I have no idea what went wrong.”
He shouldn’t like lying as much as he did, but it always gave him a thrill.
She cocked her head to the side, long hair shifting and blending in with the shadows concentrated around herthrone—a stunning piece she didn’t realize was made of calcified Celestials. A good thing, since it would disgust her, and her lack of gratitude would snap the tenuous hold on his patience.
It wasn’t even fucking meant for her. If she had the gall to criticize it, discard it, destroy it…
A slow breath out, to steady himself. That was all in his head. No use getting worked up over imagined slights. The seat would cradle its true master soon enough.
Her tears had long-since dried, leaving salty tracks down her porcelain cheeks—the only outward sign of her inherent weakness. Evidence she’d actually cared about thatthing.
“Brand was to go to the village and complete the tasks requested so I could gauge his adult power before approaching him again. To see if he was the gentle, understanding child I remember, or if he’d grown into yet another heartless Imperial like the rest before him. It was perfect.” She rose to her full height, nearly as tall as he was, and closed the short distance between them. “Instead, I wake from my restorative slumber to feel the tether connecting me to Ygritte and Aelthyssnap.Iarrive to find themslaughtered.To smell the death and decay in the land withyour scent beneath it.” Her hand shot out and latched onto his jaw, even as fresh tears bloomed. “Where is the vial?”
“Ah, well…” It physically hurt to hold in his laughter. “I’d meant it for Brand, of course, but things went a tad sideways. As you know.” Perhaps he’d visit some of his captives, talk their ears off and relieve this giddy energy. “In the end, the wrong member of their party consumed it.” Lie, lie, lie.
Her claws pressed in, piercing his skin, her lip curled in a sneer. “That tincture was a last resort. It took years to procure, and longer still to manipulate for my own ends.”
He was well aware. He’d tried to be the one to get hold of it—if for no other reason than to speed things along—but she wouldn’t hear of it. Her plan had been to dose Brand with the tincture, lure him to her fortress before his body burned through it, and use the opportunity to plead her case.
Plead,like the pathetic disappointment she was.
He’d given it to the Second Commander instead, having some fun while disposing of it in a way that would look accidental. It had been so easy to do, in fact, that he’d committed the egregious error of not sparing a single moment’s thought for how it would actually affect her.
Admittedly a lapse in judgement on his part, regardless of how much he enjoyed toying with her. Mistakes did happen, after all, from time to time.
Seeing as all of them were still alive, he could only assume it had played out in such a way as toruin fucking everything.
Well, not necessarily. Her getting hold of Brand is what would actually ruin everything, and he’d prevented that, however inelegantly.
“Do you think me a fool?” Her breath wafted over his face, sweet from the wine she’d been drinking.
Of course he did, but saying so wouldn’t help him. Not yet.
“You have no idea how lucky you are,” she hissed, “that I am unable to spend more than a handful of minutes within Bordoroth’s lands. That the Sisters’ power and the curse on me prevents it. If not for that, I would take your head right now and good riddance.”
It was everything he could do not to fucking butcher her then and there. It would be so easy. She’d never see it coming.
Regrettably, and unbeknownst to her, they were at an equal impasse. He needed her as much as she needed him, and it was saving her life. For now.
“I tire of how little control you have over yourself—which, coming from me, is saying something.”
