“The king comes first.” Charen tosses a knife in the air and catches it.
“Obviously.” Caltinius gives him a perturbed glare.
Something flickers in my memory. Something Everett said, or perhaps another of my warriors. What was it? My mind starts to go black in the places where I need it most. But then something sparks in the depths.
“The bog witch.” I struggle to push the words out.
“My lord?” Brock leans closer.
“Everett, Bladin—they chased down a bog witch, you said. Her magic could …” What was I saying?
Bladin floats in the edges of my fading vision. “That was no bog witch like we thought. Turned out we were hunting an obsidian. She’d flayed two unwitting lesser fae who tried to rob her on the road. One was still alive, magically so, because she wanted him to continue suffering for his crimes against female-kind. He told us of her attack, her ferocious teeth and claws. And though we tried to end his suffering, nothing we did could send him to the Ancestors. He did not die, not until the witch granted him that privilege.”
“Ancestors.” Caltinius shudders. “What a horrid creature. Straight from the Spires.”
“She’d left a trail, possibly to lure us closer, but we had to leave off.” Bladin shakes his head. “I wanted to challenge her, but Everett wanted to live to fight another day. Nonce.”
“Call me that again,” Everett growls.
“Find her. Bring her.” My eyes drift closed even though I fight to keep them open. “The obsidian.”
“My lord?” Brock leans closer. “Bring the enemy here?”
“Capture her any way you can. Bring her …” I can’t get the rest of my words free from my tongue. I’m gone again, lost in nightmares of my mate staring at me with dead eyes and a twisted heart that resides firmly in Eraldon’s icy grip.
5
Emma
Night. I wake wrapped in its arms.
Ancestors, how I’ve missed it.
It’s so cool in here. I wonder if Mama forgot to stoke the fire before we went to bed. Unlike her, but she could’ve gotten into the berry wine again. A smile tries to twitch at my lips. But then memory seeps in like snakes in dark waters. I’m not home.
I blink my eyes open. It all crashes back down onto me. Solano, Eraldon—my hunger. I shudder as I remember what I’d done to slake my thirst.
“Glad you’re finally up.” Eraldon’s voice comes from deeper in the room.
He’s near a window, a book in his hand, and I can see him clearly. Far more clearly than I’ve ever seen anyone before. My vision, my senses—everything is heightened. I can hear an owl far away in a wood, someone walking down a hall several floors below, and the wind faintly humming along eaves.
“Hungry?” he asks and returns his attention to his book.
I glance down and yank the dark red sheet up to cover me. I’m naked. “Wait, how did I get here?” I scoot until my back hits the headboard, but not just my back. Turning, I find a webbed wing protruding over my shoulder. “What in the name of the Spires—”
“The wings are nice. They’re far more powerful and sprang out faster than a usual seeker. As I was saying, there’s something else in your blood. Your mother took a lover. Possibly a witch. Not sure. Doesn’t matter.” He waves a bored hand at me. “Answer my question. Are you hungry?”
“No.” I turn again to find a wing on my other side. Tears smart in my eyes. What am I? A monster. A monster that canneverreturn to the Daylands, never see Solano again. “What did you do?”
“Me? I simply took what I wanted. You.” He claps his book closed with one hand. “You took from me, remember? You rather enjoyed it.” The cruel glint in his eye turns my stomach.
“Where am I?” I look everywhere, my eyes perceiving so much detail as the wings at my back continue to unsettle me.
“Boring questions.” He strides over.
To my shame, I cower back against the headboard.
“You’re in my realm. My castle. My bed.” He smiles, his eyes roving over my body, as if he can see through the covers.
