10
Solano
“Disgusting.” Selene pokes Grimelda’s withered arm. “So dry. Not tasty.”
“I didn’t bring you here to eat her.”
“Good thing. Nothing to chew. Just dust.” She pokes again.
“Evil. All of you, evil.” Lysetta holds her knees and rocks back and forth on her cot. Rala, the other changeling Lord Caroldon maimed, sits there, too, her big eyes on Selene.
“Yes, straight from the Spires, I am.” Selene snaps her teeth at them.
“Stop.” Brock blocks Selene’s view of the changelings.
“Just having fun.” Selene pouts and turns back to Grimelda.
“Heal her.” My impatience flares as I stare at the desiccated body. Grimelda isn’t a Daylander. In fact, I don’t know which realm she hales from. But she was hurt here, in my realm, because I couldn’t see the danger until it was too late. Eraldon drained every last drop of power from her and left her a ruined husk, then took my mate.
My hands fist, and I have the urge to incinerate everything in my path at the thought of him so much as touching her, much less sinking his fangs into my beloved.
“Easy, my lord.” Selene arches a brow at the daylight flames licking along the floor and the ceiling around me. Turning back to Grimelda, she leans over her and mutters a curse.
“If you were obsidian, you wouldn’t break.” She turns the witch’s head to face her, though Grimelda’s eyes are sealed shut. Her skin makes a cracking sound as Selene forces her into position.
Everett leans against the wall and winces.
Charen watches with interest as my healer Caltinius waits behind Selene, just in case.
As if reading my thoughts, she turns around to look at him. But she doesn’t turn, her head does. Like those Nightland creatures—owls.
“Fun trick.” Charen smirks.
“Do you have root of warty hemlock?” she asks.
Caltinius, unfazed, nods. “Aye, but it’s a poison.”
“Not for witches. Bring it.” She turns back around as Caltinius hustles out. “Lex is your mother. She’s almost as weak as you.” She leans closer to Grimelda. “She has a scar on the back of her thigh. Looks like a half moon.” She snaps her teeth. “I gave it to her and will do it again if I ever catch her sniffing around one of my pet cocks.”
“Pet cocks?” Tristano asks.
“I have a tree of them. Tree made of bone. Leaves made of cock.” She smiles and glances down at his crotch, then brandishes her claws. “Happy to add yours.”
“Get on with it.” I try to keep my irritation in check, but every second I lose is one of torment for Emma and for me.
Selene goes back to muttering over Grimelda, though it’s as if she’s having a conversation now. “No, can’t give her mine. You give her yours.” She stills for a moment, then cackles. “That’s a lie. You have it all. Remember when we traipsed through the valley of undead? Yes?” More silence. “I won’t follow you again. No. Not again.” She sobers. “Too much of me left behind in your realm. Now I need you to give some magic to this weak witch.” Another pause. “You have a secret? Since when do you keep secrets from me? What secret?” She taps her chin. “Oh, ‘you’ll find out’—that’s a fine way to treat a friend.” She harrumphs.
“Is she speaking with the magic?” Brock looks at me with a skeptical expression.
I shrug. “I don’t care if she’s speaking with the Master of the Spires, as long as she gets this done.”
Caltinius reappears with a black bottle in one hand.
Selene sniffs the air and snatches the liquid from him. “This is it.”
He backs away, wariness all over him.
“Leave, mortal. If you get so much as a speck of this on you, you’re dead.” She grins. “Unless you want to be dead. Then I can have a snack. Yes, yes, stay.” She nods.
