6
Fear shoots through me. I have no idea what might be wrong, but I’ve never seen Roar look so afraid. Deep fear pulls his features taut, thrumming through every rise and fall of his giant chest. Gilda is everything to him. If something has happened to her… I’m already running, Baelen close behind me.
As I pass by, Roar shoots into the space between Baelen and me. “No!”
Baelen skids to a halt, his silhouette turning acid red as he harnesses his power.
“I’m sorry, Wrathful One.” Roar doesn’t bow, won’t bend, rises up to fully block Baelen before he can step foot out of the door. He doesn’t seem to care that Baelen is glowing hot and angry. “This is not a matter for you.”
I don’t know why Roar’s behaving this way, but I beg Baelen to stay put. “Please. I’ll be okay.”
Baelen glowers at Roar. “I would not yield for any other gargoyle but I know you protected Marbella in the mines. I trust you with her life.” His voice lowers to a threatening growl. “Do not endanger her or you will answer to me.”
Roar growls back. “I would not expect any less from you, Wrathful One. The same way I would kill any male who endangers my wife. You have my word.”
As I race away through the halls, Roar joins me, running alongside. “With respect, Lady Storm, may I fly with you so we can move faster.”
My answer is to leap into his arms and wrap my arms around his waist. He catches me, spreads his wings, and we’re airborne in the next breath, soaring through the high ceilings and out of the wide front doors.
I see it already: some sort of fire, big enough to be visible above the top of the forest.
“Roar! What is that?”
His voice chokes. “They won’t look at us. They won’t speak to us. They’re breaking everything.” His voice becomes hoarse. “Including our hearts.”
We soar toward Harem Hall over the tops of trees into the eastern clearing. A fire rages outside it, casting firelight across the verandah and the yellow flags, but it’s the screams that hit me straight in the heart. As we touch down, a female runs from the Hall carrying an armful of clothing—scanty dresses and barely-there underwear flutter in her arms. She throws it all into the fire in one giant heave. Then she screams at the burning items, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Fuck you, Howl!” She roars again, emptying her lungs into the air, her arms spread wide, her scream turning into a wail as she collapses to the ground. One of the other females catches her, holding her close, both of them sobbing.
A cry rises in my throat. The female on the ground is Gilda, Roar’s wife, her ebony hair flying around her face in the heat of the flames. She seems to remember her hair, reaches into it, and wrenches out the hairpiece Howl made her wear, throwing that into the fire too.
The female holding her is Carmen. She does the same, hurling her hairband into the flames. Then they claw at their flimsy clothing, ripping that off too, staring as it disappears inside the flames, leaving themselves completely naked. They roar into the fire, screams of agony they were never allowed to utter before.
Other females emerge, throwing cushions, chairs, parts of tables, ornaments, even the giant cherries that Howl made them eat and the scented soap he made them wash with. All of it disappears into the fire. One by one, they rip off their clothes and stand naked in front of the giant flames.
Tears drip down my cheeks. No female deserves to be treated the way Howl treated them. Not ever.
There’s a growl behind me. I don’t think Roar looked like this even during the battle at Crimson Court. He wants—needs—to kill something. So do the other males pacing at the far edges of the clearing. I recognize Rhain, Carmen’s husband, his newly healed wings half-spread as if he’s about to take flight and go to her.
“We tried to help them, but they screamed at us.” Roar points at a deep scratch on his chest. “Gilda did this. She won’t let me near her.”
A pale green light glows at the edges of my vision. It’s the Virtuous Heartstone, its empathy filling the air around me. I wrap my fingers around Roar’s big forearm, allowing as much of the soothing emotion to warm my fingertips as possible.
“I will help them, Roar. I promise you. But please, tell the other males to wait. Give us space. Your wives need to do this.”
He swallows. His throat constricts. “If you could kill that monster a thousand times, it would not be enough, Lady Storm.”
“I promise you, Roar, he felt excruciating pain at the end.”
I calm the force of the Queen’s destructive power as I pick my way along the path toward the females. The power inside me responds to the flames and the females’ rage, but it’s not anger that I need now. I reach Gilda’s side first. She recognizes me but says nothing, her face streaked with ash and tears.
I ask, quietly, “Where is it?”
She points to a growing pile of clothing that the females continue to hurl into the flames. The edge of a jet-black dress peeks from the pile. I recognize the pale blue filigree and the ribbons that circle the waist. It was the one that Howl made me wear when he paraded me like his trophy in front of the entire Court. It has a large slit up the back that he loved to abuse. I wore it to the mines, but the females came each week unknown to the miners to collect the laundry and deliver fresh clothing. They brought the dress back to Harem Hall with them.
I drag it from the pile, scrunch it in my fist, and pitch the garment into the fire. The heartstones respond to my anger, pushing the flames so high that they curve over the top of us, forming a barrier of flame between us and the rest of the world. I use the stones’ power to keep it there, maintaining the height and width of the flames, blocking out the worried males. The females close their eyes, the light flickering across their bodies and their wings.
“They say your new power can destroy things,” Gilda says, her eyes still closed. “Can you burn this place too?”
