My hand flew to the small swell in my belly. If I died, then the life growing inside me would die right alongside me.
They never had a chance.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, choking on my tears.
“How touching.”
My head whipped up. Familiar grey eyes met mine, though devoid of the heat and kindness I knew. Instead, disdain and loathing glared back at me.
“What do you want?”
The King shook his head. “Hardly a wise start, when your life and your child’s rest in my palm.”
“You’ll kill me either way.”
A slow smile spread across the King’s face, and it sent an icy chill racing down my spine.
“You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that.” He leaned against the bars keeping me contained as he glanced around the dungeon. “Not the type of accommodations you are used to, I’m sure.”
“What do you want?” I repeated, not in the mood for whatever game he was playing.
The King’s smile sharpened. “I’ve come to tell you how it ends.”
My eyes held his, steady and defiant, even though my insides twisted with dread.
“I want you to understand why you’re going to die here.”
The finality in his tone slammed into me, but I refused to react. He’d get no satisfaction from my fear.
“I have no desire to let you grow old and comfortable in my dungeons.”
He and I had very different ideas of what comfort entailed.
“There will be an execution, and soon. But first,” the King smacked his lips together as if he were tasting something sweet. “I didn’t want you to leave this realm without knowing the truth.” His cold, pitiless eyes drilled into me, savoring the moment. “Every blade that hunted you… It was me.”
Air burst from my lungs in a sharp exhale.
“You sent the assassins after me?”
“Indeed, I did.” He grinned, as though he was proud of his efforts. “I’ll admit, I didn’t foresee you surviving this long.”
“Who?”
His gaze sparked with malice, and he needed no further context to understand my question.
“The Seelie envoy, of course.”
I tilted my head back as I stared at the ceiling. The image of milky eyes and a sinister smile flashed in my mind. When I returned my attention to the King, he was studying me with anticipation, eager to see how I would respond to his confession.
“He was standing on the dais, watching me as I was attacked. How could he be responsible? Unless he had help.”
He licked his lips as he practically vibrated with excitement. “The truth is far more exciting, my dear,” he said. “Mathias is a Mindcaster.”
Suddenly, it all made sense.
A Mindcaster could move objects with a single thought. He’d never left the dais, just watched with sick gratification as I bled out on the marble floor.
A shiver racked my frame, and I returned my attention to the King.
