A tear rolled down his cheek. He turned away.
Forget forgiveness. Only vengeance.
And may god have mercy on Rabbit’s soul if I ever found him again.
Chapter Thirty
Alice
“Wake up, witch.”
An evil voice slithered through the fog clogging my brain.
My eyes fluttered open. Everything was a blur—shadows and shapes that refused to sharpen. Cruel blue eyes stared into mine through a sea of darkness. Someone was pinching my cheeks hard enough to bruise.
Cold air rushed over me, biting into my skin, making me feel like I would never feel warm again. Gooseflesh prickled down my arms. I inhaled dampness, mold, and something else that reeked of dark magic and decay.
He patted my cheek. Hard. “Wake up.”
Chains clanked next to me. “Leave her alone, you bastard.”
Darius. His voice was raw. Desperate.
I blinked, gasping as the world came into focus.
This wasn’t the cavern.
It was some place much, much worse.
Stone walls glistened with moisture. The stench of rot and suffering hung thick in the air. My arms were strapped highabove my head, chains biting into my wrists, and I dangled like a puppet with cut strings.
Ari’s face was inches from mine, his superior smile begging to be knocked off. A tremor ran through me. Looking into those icy-blue eyes was like staring at Satan himself—if Satan wore a man bun and reeked of expensive cologne.
“Alice.” Darius’ voice came from somewhere to my left, tight with fear. “Alice, are you all right?”
I turned my head, searching for him. He was chained to the wall, his wrists bound above his head just like mine. Blood trickled from a cut on his temple. His silver eyes burned with fury—and something else. Terror. For me.
But I wasn't the one bleeding. I wasn't the one chained to a dungeon wall again. My fear sharpened, twisted, turned toward him. What had they done to him? What were they going to do?
I pulled against my restraints, the chains rattling. “How did we get here? I don’t remember anything.”
“You weren’t supposed to,” a female voice purred.
The click of heels echoed through the chamber. Slow. Deliberate. Each step designed to make you wait. To make you fear.
A woman emerged from the shadows. Dark hair coiled into an elaborate braid atop her head. A diamond tiara caught what little light existed in this hellhole, glittering like ice. Her gown was blood red, sweeping the filthy stone floor as if the dirt wouldn’t dare touch her.
But it was her face that stilled my blood. Beautiful. Porcelain perfect. And utterly without mercy.
I knew who she was.
She stopped in front of me and placed a hand on her chest, her crimson lips curving into a mocking smile. Her blue eyes—deadly as a viper’s—raked over me with thinly veiled disgust.
“Let me introduce myself.” Her voice was silk wrapped around a blade. “I am Queen Alanna of the House of Cormac.” She spread her arms wide, as if presenting a gift. “Welcome to Cormac Castle.”
Joy had described her perfectly. The cruelty. The beauty. The monstrosity.
And now I was her prisoner.
