Beside me, Wick looks distraught.
Slade looksmurderous.
Keeping my composure, I give a sharp nod and then pull away my gold until it’s only capturing his hands, still fusing them to the wooden table. “What part of Annwyn did your fairy ring bring the king and Emonie?”
He chews on his answer for a moment, but then he decides to finally answer. “Near the bridge.”
I can feel Wick tense, but I lean in. “Near the bridge—butwhich side?” Brennur’s eyes flash, and I hum in affirmation. “That’s why you’re so valuable to the king, isn’t it? Because heknows now that you can open a ring in Orea. You’ve been using your magic to transport him directly there so that he could figure out a way to rebuild the bridge and invade.”
He tips his head, arrogance bleeding into his expression. “Like I said, far too valuable to kill.”
“How did they manage to fix the bridge?”
“I don’t know.”
I arch a brow.
“Truly, I don’t,” he says with frustration and a sneer. “I’ve told you everything. Take away your shiny little threat now. I’ve done my part.”
Slade audibly growls, but I give him the tiniest shake of my head, and the sound cuts off.
With a sweep of my hand, the rest of the gold puddles, slithering back toward me and drifting up my arms where it hardens like spiraling arm bands.
“Now.” Brennur coughs again before he straightens up and smooths down his vest. “You will release me, we will negotiate a price, and only then will I take you to the spot where I transported the king and that female impersonator. We’re done here.”
Nodding, I slide my chair back and get to my feet. “We are done.”
Brennur starts to get up too, only to realize he can’t.
Body stiffening, he looks down. The golden nuggets that had fallen to the floor are gone. His gaze shoots back up to me when he realizes, but it’s too late. They’ve already melted down and fused to the bottom of his shoes, though there isn’t a single blackened vein to be seen.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asks, trying and failing again to move his feet.
“Oh, that? That gold melted down right around the time you told us how you’d decided to help flesh traders sell children.”
He looks around the room with confusion, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. His demeanor grows more agitated, and he starts to cough again, but this time he can’t quite get it cleared.
“That’ll be the rot soaking into your throat,” I tell him calmly, and he blanches at me.
“What?” he shouts, eyes bugging out, the blood draining from his face. “You can’t!” His voice has gone raspy and jagged, barely able to chafe out.
“Hmm, seems I can.”
Forgetting he can’t move, he tries to lunge for me, but Slade is a step ahead of him. All it takes is one hand slamming down onto his shoulder, and he holds Brennur in place in his chair.
Slade’s eyes don’t even drop down to him. They stay on me. Ready to support me in whatever way I choose for this to play out.
“Unfortunately for you, Brennur, you’ve made a very large error.”
He glares at me as I sense the rot settling into his lungs, tainting his labored breaths. It becomes harder for him to draw his inhales. His heart slugs out poison through the rest of his veins, making him shake violently as he has another coughing fit.
“You thought you were worth more to me alive than you are dead,” I say as the rot in his throat thickens, decaying the windpipe with his next scraping inhale. “You’renot.”
His body jerks and he collapses against the table, wheezing with a failing ability to breathe as the rot attacks his every organ, focusing on his heart.
He doesn’t need it. He certainly never showed he had one.
I pass him on my way to the door and tip my hand, letting a gold coin land right in front of his mottled face. “Your payment.”
