I looked up, anxiously kneading my fingers into fists by my sides. “But they haven’t bitten yet,so…”
“They’ll want you,” he said softly. “You’re from Great House Wychthorn. A princess of the underworld. A girl who bows to no one, ensnared with the Alverac. Andownedby the familyyoursbetrayed.”
23
Nelle
An arctic chill frosted my insides as I closed my eyes, my head so heavy it dipped forward. Graysen’s family had a long time to plan all of this.
They’d bound me so tightly with their clever schemes and deceit I could almost feel the chains coiled around my body. Chilling. Heavy. Cruel. There were circles within circles, plans within plans, and many layers to the Crowthers’ machinations. It was a maze of lies and subterfuge, and amongst the network of false ends and choices that circled in on themselves, one path led straight to me—where I stood, alone, at the very center of its dark intrigue.
Even though Tabitha deserved freedom, I couldn’t give it to her if it meant my life was forfeit. I refused to stand on the auction block in two months’ time.
I opened my eyes and raised my weary head to find Graysen quietly studying me, wondering if I’d broken with the truth of what was unique about me. Why the Witches would desireto possess a Wychthorn princess. This particular Wychthorn princess.
Innocence betrayed.
I was already broken.
My voice was threadbare and scratchy when I asked, “What about the Pellans? Does Aldert know that I killed—”
Graysen interrupted quickly, perhaps to spare me saying that man’s name, and explained his recent meeting with Sirro and Aldert’s unexpected ambush, demanding the whereabouts of his missing son. “We handled it. Aldert knows about the kidnapping now, but we spun an illusion thathewas obsessed with you. Your father helped with that, too.”
I blinked in surprise. “He did?”
“He can’t risk anyone suspecting why you were taken.”
Sage wandered over, dropping the tennis ball at my feet. I rubbed between his ears as guilt writhed inside. I’d been a constant worry for my father.
“Aldert knows I found you, retrieved you, and that I’d let his son walk away unscathed.”
Shock had my mouth gaping. “Aldert doesn’t know he’s dead?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Aldert suspects it. Or will soon enough when his son doesn’t come back home. But he can’t retaliate because—”
“Of the Alverac. No one can interfere with yourownership,” I said bitterly, kicking the ball away, but Sage nudged my hand instead. The crackle of pulsing energy snapped up my fingers, jarring my bones. Bottled lightning bound my wraith-wolf’s neck. Sage was trapped like me, though my collar was something else entirely—a message to my father.
My brows slashed together as I glared at Graysen. “What do you need from my father? Because this”—I thumbed the rope—“is more than a threat to expose him. You want something from him.”
Admiration shone brightly. “We do.”
“What do you want?”
It all had to do with their mission to save their mother. Everything the Crowthers did, every move they made, was all for Tabitha.
“Something that will put him and your family at great risk.”
My damp hair slithered over my shoulder as I tipped my head to the side, watching Graysen intently, trying to read the nuances across his features. But he was better at hiding himself than I. “What do you want from him?” Was it something he could do for them or something he possessed?
Regret flickered in his gaze. “I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
Anger heated my blood as I marched toward the opening in the tower’s walls. Somehow I’d figure it out.
Behind me, Graysen sighed. “Even if we couldn’t use you to get into the Witches Ball, we’d still have need of you to bind Byron.”
