“Wrong.”
He grimaces just as the house shudders. I try to peer out the picture windows that stretch in slender lines on either side of the doors, but when I crane my neck, new thorns find their way into my skin.
“You work for me, Lastra. Now release my granddaughter.”
He glances at where I lie encased in his barbed cage. “She’ll k-kill me with her poisonous blood.”
“No. I won’t.”
He blows air out the corner of his mouth as though he doesn’t believe me.
“My mate requested a meet and greet with my jailers.” I flash the man a toothy smile. “Did I saymeet and greet? I meant acut and gut. So like I said,Iwon’t be killing you.”
The man blanches, then shudders at the same time as the Rossi home. He peers over his shoulder, his eyes growing so wide that his green irises float in pools of white. But then his eyebrows drop. “How come they’re not—” His shoulders square beneath his white jacket. “They can’t penetrate the house, can they?”
“Lastra, I will not ask again,” Justus says calmly.
The green-eyed Fae drops his hand to his scabbard and pulls out his sword.
“For fuck’s sake, Lastra, free my fucking granddaughter now.”
His lips draw up into a half smirk. “I think not.” The house trembles again, but instead of drawing a shudder from the idiot, it makes him grin. “Sergente Lastra has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Now that the position is open for the taking.”
The bloodied finger I’m attempting to wriggle around the nearest branch freezes at Lastra’s callous words. Cato was the kindest, most noble man, always treating his inferiors with the utmost respect. He doesn’t deserve to be flattened by Lastra’s ego, just as he didn’t deserve to die on my fucking sword.
The feel of his flesh giving around my blade turns both my stomach and heart. For a long moment, I feel nothing but intractable disgust for what I’ve done and wallow in self-loathing. Not only did I fail—again—but I also murdered a friend.
Lastra’s voice pierces through my deafening thoughts. “Though if I end Justus Rossi and bring Fallon back, Dante may just make me Com—”
Justus fills Lastra’s mouth with water. When he begins gagging and hacking, he says, “Giuseppe Lastra, I call forth the bargain owed. Hand me your sword.”
Lastra blinks at my grandfather as though he’s transformed into a Crow, then spits out one last mouthful of water and begins to backpedal, but the claimed bargain contorts his features. “Get—your own—sword.” He grimaces anew, rubbing the skin over his heart. “Fine. Here.” He steps toward Justus, but instead of slipping the sword into Justus’s waiting hand, he levels it at my grandfather’s heart and thrusts.
Thirty-Three
Ahoarse shout soars up my raw throat just as metal ricochets against metal.
Lastra blinks stunned eyes at his sword that didn’t penetrate my grandfather’s torso.
Justus smiles as he sprays what must be scalding water into Lastra’s face because the soldier drops his sword and screams as welts blister his cheekbones and brow.
I don’t miss the slight wince that crinkles Justus’s features as he crouches to retrieve the weapon. “You know what disheartens me most about your deed, you worthless idiot?”
Steam curls off Lastra’s crimson face while a mixture of squeals and moans erupt from his blistered lips.
Justus moves nearer to Lastra, who flails backward, slipping on the slick marble and falling on his ass. “That it makes me doubt my good judgment, for only an idiot would enlist another.”
Before Lastra can get up, Justus steps over him, positions the blade over the man’s heart and drives it clean through. Unlike the messy death I gave Dargento, Justus doesn’t miss the mark. Clearly, it’s not his first time ending a Faerie’s life. He may not have been alive during the Magnabellum, but he was alive during Primanivi. Though a much shorter war, the latter was just as bloody as Costa’s war.
My pulse is still clocking my neck when the thorny branches vanish, releasing my body in the gory puddle of Justus’s magic. For a moment, I lay there, stunned and unmoving, desperately attempting to catch my breath now that my unsolicited acupuncture session is over.
“I can’t believe you truly handpicked that man,” I end up saying as he plucks a metal dinner plate from inside his crimson stained shirt and lays it atop the nearest couch.Saved by dinnerware.How clever.
He hobbles over to me and extends his hand to help me up. “Slim pickings, Nipota.”
Although my arm feels tied to an anvil, I lift it to meet his. “Should’ve widened your pool and enlisted round-ears.”
“Half-bloods wouldn’t have fared well surrounded by that much obsidian.”
