“Princess Maeve,” I said finally, bowing my head forward in the sign of respect her mother would expect from me. Her jaw hardened to match her eyes, her nostrils flaring with annoyance.
“My. Name. Is. Fallon,” she snapped, the ire in her voice tippingthe corners of my mouth up into a smile. Many would have broken under Mab’s torturous hands, would have caved and given her anything she wanted, but this woman clung to all traces of her identity and rebelled against the control the Queen of Air and Darkness would try to exert over her life.
Immediately, I knew Rheaghan and I needed to do whatever it took to free her from Tar Mesa and the direct influence of Mab in her daily life as quickly as possible. That rebellious spirit would be her downfall if she didn’t find the balance to prove herself useful to Mab. If Rheaghan and I left her here, we’d be condemning her to death.
It may not happen the next day, or even the week after, but eventually that spirit would be crushed beneath Mab’s fist until death became a mercy. Rheaghan and Mab’s mother had practically raised me. Her memory deserved better than watching her lineage die.
“Fallon,” I whispered as I turned to nod at her mother where she watched our interaction, offering Fallon my arm as I took my place beside her. She accepted it, even though it seemed like she may not, allowing me to lend my support as she gathered her dress in her free hand and tugged, tearing the fabric at her knees and tossing it to the side with a glare for Mab.
I withheld my chuckle and my grin, impressing both Rheaghan and myself when he wasn’t able to stop the hoarse snort that he attempted to cover with his hand. She let me guide her forward, putting distance between us and the Queen, who would undoubtedly be angry at the torn gown.
As if it weren’t already ruined by her daughter’s blood.
Malachi, the sadistic bastard, took her other arm the moment we were out of Mab’s sight, guiding her away from me and toward the hall that would lead to the stairs and up to the rooms Mab had chosen for her. I watched her go as Rheaghan came up beside me, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.
She took a few steps with Malachi’s assistance, his attention to her struggle reassuring me ever so slightly. He would keep her as safe as he could, from any threat outside of his precious Queen, because Fallon was the lost Princess that all of Tar Mesa had wished would return for the centuries since she’d disappeared in the night. But I didn’t know that the worship they had for her would last, now that we’d been faced with the reality that Mab cared very little for the woman we’d all hoped would tame her by giving her someone to love.
She stopped halfway up the steps, turning to meet my stare overher shoulder for the briefest of moments. It was all I needed to reassure me that my intentions for her would be met with returned interest.
She felt that pull, that inexplicable attraction that had consumed me from the moment I saw her. It made no sense given the reality that I had yet to feel the pull of my mate, even after the fall of the Veil.
Condemned to live alone for centuries, I was tired of waiting endlessly for a woman who may never come.
For one who might have died her final, true death before the Veil came down, leaving me to rot in madness for the rest of eternity until Rheaghan or someone else I loved had to put me down as a mercy.
No, I was done fucking waiting for my mate.
I’d claim a wife instead.
TWOFALLON
I hissed through my teeth, refusing to give her the benefit of hearing my screams. She sat back on her throne with a bored expression as she flicked her wrist, twining her shadows and darkness in a serpentine pattern. They wrapped around my forearm, squeezing tighter and tighter until the pressure built to an apex that felt like it might tear something out of me.
I couldn’t breathe as that strange pressure rose in my chest in time with the tightening shadows on my arm. Blood welled beneath them as they writhed and dug deeper, sawing their way through my flesh until white-hot pain spread through me and they wrapped around the bone.
My skin felt too warm as it spread through my blood. Mab leaned forward as I raised my eyes to glare at her, gritting my teeth through the pain that was so much worse than anything I could remember.
Even the wound on my face hadn’t compared tothis,even if solely because I’d been knocked unconscious for the worst of it before Imelda could get to me.
She tapped the fingers of her free hand against the arm of her throne before she stood, curling her fingers and twisting her wrist suddenly so the palm that had faced the floor now faced the ceiling.
The snap of my bones tore a grunt from my mouth, the sound louder than I’d intended. I refused to look down at my arm, too aware of the way it feltwrong. I’d never done well with the sight of broken bones and the unnatural angles that went along with them.
Blood I could handle, but something about broken bones made me lightheaded.
Mab grimaced as she descended the steps of the dais, the otherwise silent throne room feeling too still as she raised her free hand and struck my shoulder with her shadow. It sank deep into the skin, using the penetration to force my shoulders back and hold me still as she approached.
She stopped before me, leaning lower until she was in my face where I knelt at the base of the dais. She paused long enough to observe the small crowd behind us, her loyal followers who had been welcomed to witness my torture. Even with all the hours that had passed the day before without success, she still believed I would break.
“Release it,” she ordered, speaking the words under her breath. She kept them a soft hush between us, so that it was only for the two of us to know, and I didn’t understand how she sensed the magic clinging to my heart and soul, but she did.
Sheknewit was there. Knew it was within me and I just refused to let it out.
My rage burned hotter, feeling like the fires of a thousand suns as my lips peeled back into a feral snarl. I spit at her, the red stain of blood striking her cheek as someone behind me gasped. “I hope whoever kills you tears you limb from limb,” I said, wincing when she wrapped her hand around the front of my throat and lifted me to my feet.
The shadows she’d used to torture me didn’t move with me, tearing through my skin anew. The ones wrapped around my forearm pulled down, yanking at the joints and stretching muscles beyond what was natural. The shadow that pierced my shoulder tore through my flesh as I rose, sliding down to cut a path through my chest and the side of my breast.
“Should we find out if you can survive that very thing?” Mab asked, tugging at my arm until I felt a distinctive popping sensation.
