She felt the air whoosh out of her lungs as her head was knocked to the side. Her teeth cut into the side of her cheek, making her bleed, and her cheekbone throbbed with the sudden pain.
Her hand came up involuntarily to touch the spot where she’d been struck, but before she could fully register what had happened, Chans grabbed the back of her head, gripping her hair painfully and ripping out some of the strands.
She reached back, trying to dislodge his grip, but he was far stronger, and he used that strength to slam her face down onto the wooden table in front of them.
Her cheekbone exploded, the pain so overwhelming Ena couldn’t breathe. She needed to do something, anything, to get away. Adrenaline rushed through her, and, remembering her training, the things Ty had taught her, she threw out her elbow with as much force as she could muster, connecting with Chans’s gut.
He grunted and pulled her back up by the hair before pushing her with his full force away from him. Ena stumbled with the sudden change of momentum, and fell to the ground in a heap.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. She’d forgotten her footwork. Ty had always told her that was the most important thing and she hadn’t done it. Tears filled her eyes—from the pain on her face, yes—but as she looked up at the men looming above her, all she felt was fear.
Gunnar approached her again as she reached into her Knowing.
The air in the cave was stagnant, not like the air above, but she sensed it still.
{Aer—}
Gunnar gripped her throat before she could get the spellword out—squeezing and choking off her words. She could feel his death grip crushing her windpipe as she looked into his dead eyes and panic set in.
She tried futilely to pull in air, but only managed tiny sips. Black began to edge her vision and she started to feel lightheaded, when suddenly Gunnar lifted his knee, slamming it into her belly.
She felt one of her ribs crack, but she didn’t fall down this time. She stumbled back a step, bent over and clutching her side. Her throat was on fire and she could barely breathe with the pain in her side.
Sensing someone approach behind her, she whipped around, hunched over in fear like a feral animal. Her eyes darted around, looking to flee, as Chans reached out to grip her wrist. He pulled it away from her body, from where she’d been protecting herself, and wrenched it to the side—not the way the bones were meant to go—and she heard it snap.
A scream echoed around the cave. She guessed it was hers but she didn’t remember making it. Scalding pain flooded her wrist as she fell to her knees, and she began to lose consciousness.She vaguely felt someone kick her in the gut—again, again, until she felt blood start to trickle out of her mouth, when it suddenly stopped.
Clutching her useless wrist, shaking, she began to sob. She wanted to beg. Part of her wanted to beg them to stop.
But she didn’t. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
She brought her eyes up to see Cole approaching her. He loomed over her shaking, sobbing body on the ground, and Ena was afraid—yes, that was for certain—but a new feeling grew in her, something she’d never felt so starkly before in her life.
Hatred. She was filled with such loathing, such utter rage as she had never felt before. And she knew then: he would fucking pay for this. She might have no recourse right now, but one day…one day she would. And he would pay in spades.
Cole stared back at her, seeming amused at the hatred in her eyes, as he reached out to grab her broken wrist, twisting it with a sadistic glee as Ena cried out in pain. “Let this be a message to you and my nephew,” he said, speaking quietly so only she could hear. “We will never allow a witch to be queen.”
Before she could fully comprehend what he said, he brought his knee up to her face, slamming it into her head until she fell back, her skull cracking onto the ground, and everything went dark.
Chapter Twenty-three
Ty
Tyhadspentthelast several days sleeping on the cold, snow-covered ground, and feeling increasingly annoyed. It had been tough finding game, even with hisvenatorand Cerberus tracking what he could.
It usually was tougher this time of year, right at the start of winter, but the lack of deer or elk seemed even starker than in years past, and that concerned him. He couldn’t exactly put his thumb on it, but something felt off.
Not to mention, he was worried about Ena. He knew his skills were needed to bring back meat for the Underworld, but he didn’t like leaving her alone there, even for a few days.
Although, she wasn’t trulyalone. Turner, Steig, and Lara would watch out for her, but still, he worried. He knew that ashiswitch-slave, his protection of her was the most valuable.
On the third day after he’d left, he finally found himself and his companions, two mid-level daemons with hellhounds of theirown, heading back to the entrance to the Underworld with four decent-sized deer in tow.
When they arrived, he left the venison with his companions to take to the king’s kitchen, where they would be processed and appropriately rationed, while he took his horse to Myka.
“Hello?” he called, as he entered the wide cavern of the stables. “Myka?”
The man in question popped his head out from a stall, where he’d evidently been re-shoeing a horse. “Ty,” he said, his voice sounding on edge. “You’re back.”
