Lord Otto blinked. “I doubt I’m speaking just for myself when I say this…” He flicked a finger between the lord next to me and myself. “I never thought the day would come when you’d actually care for someone romantically, my lord. This is the best entertainment we’ve had from you in a long while—and I mean alongwhile. The shock won’t easily disappear, nor will our pleasure at watching you two fight for dominance. Especially since she’s just as goddamn awful as you are.”
Lord Cato instantly hissed, “Watch it.”
Lord Otto tossed my father a special glance. “Don’t even defend her. She ripped out your heart less than an hour ago and used it as her footstool without fucking blinking. And our candidate knew exactly what she was doing…and only liked her more for it.”
Enough of that.
I ordered, “All of you get going.”
Lord Otto swapped his attention to me. “What? You’re the only one who can rub that shit in?”
“Yes. That anger’s mine to own. No one else’s.” I pointed at the door. “Get. Now.”
One by one, they filed out.
I shut the door behind them. Then locked it.
Not that it would do much good.
If a druid wanted in, they’d get in.
Chapter Twenty
~ Gwynnore ~
I wore all of my weapons—showing and hidden—as I stepped outside the empty bedchamber and took my time to make sure the door was locked properly. I wiggled the door handle twice, double-checking that it wouldn’t budge. The solid wooden door didn’t even jiggle in its frame, perfectly fitted.
Eeeeee-eee.
I jerked in place and slowly turned my head to the side. I peered behind me, carefully searching for the violence of that high-pitched scream. The only thing in view was a table with a vase of blooming lilies perched on top of it. There were no hearts beating close by.
Eeeeee-eee.
I flinched and swung around with my right hand on the handle of my knife that was holstered against my right thigh. I demanded, “Who’s there?”
Were they blocking my hearing?
Was it possible a druid could hide their heartbeat?
No answer came. Time ticked by in the silence.
With more firmness, I ordered, “Show yourself!”
A thumping started.
Bang, bang, bang.
My eyes lowered to the table before me—to what might lay hidden behind the cabinet doors on it. I stared for a long time, not moving. The thumps only increased in harshness, shaking the frame of the stand. I muttered under my breath, “What the ever-lovin’ fuck is that?” And did I really want to open those two innocent, tiny doors to find out?
I was thinking it was a definite ‘no.’
One of the doors broke open. Choice gone.
I took a step back and lifted my blade from its sheath, ready foranything. It was either another parlor trick, or it was something truly nasty.
A porcelain female face peeked out from behind the remaining closed door. Old-fashioned glass eyes blinked, her plastic lashes fluttering. Half her face drooped from a thick crack down the center of her face, her head only held together by the back of a solid skull. Dirt and grime and green crayon smeared the rest of her face. And her filthy brown hair was missing large chunks at the scalp here or there all over her head, showing the tiny black holes where the locks used to be fitted inside the porcelain.
I didn’t lower my knife.
