Today’s world would only be a dream if this bastard had taken Anaria away.
She never would have defeated the kings, become queen, claimed the magic and reunited the realms.
Our lives would still be a living nightmare, me serving at the mercy of the Shadow King, tethered to the Oracle by her foul magic. Varian and Ryland still hunting witches in the High Barrens, while a thousand-year war raged on forever.
Chances were, I’d be dead by now.
Tavion Montgomery had—through quick thinking and guile—saved us all, the day he’d stolen his mate away from this soulless bastard. Maybe, if I made it back to the Citadelle alive, I’d tell him so, though praise usually made his ego even more insufferable.
“I know they were here.” Gravelock made a show of sniffing the air, the light from the tall windows glinting off his silver hair. “I cansmellthem, Rooke. This place reeks of Caladrian Fae. Now why don’t you tell me who they are, and where they went, and save us both a lot of time and pain?”
The Butcher’s voice dripped with anticipation, his eyes gleaming.
Surrounded by all those guards, he wasn’t offering Kaden a deal.
No, he was planning to hurt him today, whether he found us or not. His eyes gleamed with hunger—the Butcher needed to cause pain, like he needed to breathe and eat. And still, Rooke’s mocking grin never dimmed. If anything, that annoyingly bright smirk grew wider, like he was calling the bastard’s bluff.
Hidden in the dark, I rocked back on my heels, debating my smartest move.
Twelve…no, fourteen guards, plus Gravelock were in the room below me.
Six more, patrolling the castle.
Presumably searching for Ryland, Var, and me.
I had two blades, plus a short knife in my boot. The closer I looked, the more I noticed every single guard possessed some form of powerful magic. Fire wreathing their fingers. Electricity sparking in circles around their palms. Wisps of shadow spilling from them in dark, poisonous clouds.
Steel—even Valarian steel—wasn’t going to—literally—cut it.
And I was many things, but magical…I was not.
My best bet was to search the castle, isolate the patrolling guards, take them out one at a time, then come back here and do what I could to stop whatever depravities Lord Butcher had planned for Kaden Rooke.
“You make such poor choices, Kade, yet you continue to surprise me. Very well.” Gravelock mock-sighed, lifted a gloved hand, then Rooke floated into the air, rising until he was eye level with me, his lean body bent at an impossible angle, hands twitching, mouth open in a silent scream.
This close, the light picked out the blue in his eyes,blazing like sapphires against the flood of red pooling in the corners, before blood began dripping down his face in gaudy, crimson streaks that were far too bright against his too-pale skin.
I crept as far forward as I dared, keeping one eye on Gravelock below, his hollowed-out face twisted into something like a smile, if you called those bared fangs anything but hideous. And Rooke…
Gods, he thrashed in midair right in front of me, almost close enough to touch, silently enduring what looked to be excruciating pain, and here I was, hiding in the fucking shadows, watching him writhe and struggle while I just…
Rooke’s dark eyes snagged mine. Our gazes locked together like magnets.
I have to do something.
I have to stop this.
Deep slashes scored across exposed skin, his clothing began shredding as magic ripped him apart, like he was being lashed with a cat-o’-nine-tails. Blood began flowing like a river.
From his body.
From his nose, his ears…his eyes.Everywhere.
The Butcher was carving Kaden Rooke to pieces with invisible, razor-sharp knives.
And he was doing it with a smile.
A smile I would carve from his desiccated face, then feed right the fuck back to him by shoving it down his throat.
