Victory.
Her vision fractured, likely due to how quickly she’d downed the wine, and her head throbbed.
A choking, hissing noise floated over from the corner.
Cael huddled over his knees, his shoulders trembling. She almost stood from her chair to rush to him before his head reared back and he let loose the loudest, most booming guffaws she’d ever heard him make. Louder even than Tristan’s thunderous laughter.
He struggled to breathe in the wake of his ferocious amusement. “I can’t…,” he winced. “That was… Frenzied Dienses, that was fucking hilarious. Thanks, Zee.”
Xenia’s lips quirked upwards, but her heart seized as she faced Maksym. His eyes were unblinking gems of glittering rage, his lips parted though no breath escaped, his body tense and still. Poised to strike.
He rose with supernatural swiftness, crossing the room in the split second before his chair clattered to the floor.
He punched Cael square in the face, and Xenia winced at the crack of Cael’s skull slamming into the wall.
Maksym smoothed his white suit jacket and prowled back to the table.
“Worth it,” Cael groaned, closing his eyes and propping his head against the stone slab.
As soon as Maksym regained his seat, he whipped a black cloth napkin at Xenia. “Clean yourself up.”
She glared at him, stewing in her mess.
“There are worse things I could do to him, you know,” Maksym crooned. “With all the healing suppressant in his system right now, he’s extremely vulnerable. Shall we do a little experiment to see which parts grow back if I lop them off?”
Xenia blanched, then plucked up the napkin to clean herself.
“Better.” Maksym poured her another glass of wine. And even though she shouldn’t, she was already feeling the effects, she took a deep gulp. She’d rather be drunk before hearing whatever madness he was about to spew.
“As Alexei has already mentioned, I invited you to dine with me this evening because I have a proposition for you, little mouse,” Maksym began, the wayward tufts of his silver hair limned in the candles’ amber haze. “Well, not a proposition per se. That would imply you have a choice. You’re going to help us fill our ingredient stores.” His tongue poked out to catch a drop of blood-red wine running down his bottom lip.
“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Xenia said.
“Once I have therealnecklace, I’ll begin making my very special batch of Delirium. One that will be distributed across the continent to reignite faith in the Fallen Goddess and undermine the legitimacy of the Empire. I need the blood of active Shrouded Sisters to make it, and you will help me lure them.”
Xenia almost laughed out loud at the absurdity. “You must be fucking insane if you think I’m going to help you capture any more of my Sisters.”
“Not insane. Confident. Given my leverage.” His gaze flicked towards Cael. Xenia pivoted to look at the broken Windrider.
Cael was listening to the conversation with rapt attention. As soon as she turned, his gray eyes bored into hers with a clear message. She could almost hear his deep, measured voice demanding she not do this, even to spare his life.
He was a fool if he thought she had a choice. She’d do everything in her power to keep him safe. Asshole or not, they were in this mess together.
“What, exactly, do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Xenia, no!” Cael pushed himself off the floor, and Maksym barked for Alexei.
The scar-faced Deathstalker strode in with a small vial of viscous purple liquid. Alexei straddled Cael, jamming his knees into Cael’s shoulders before forcing his mouth open and pouring the liquid down his throat. He pinched Cael’s nose and mouth shut so he was forced to swallow it, then pummeled Cael in the face and stomach.
“Stop!” Xenia cried, turning to Maksym. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please stop hurting him.”
The fleshy smack of a fist was followed by bones crunching and a pained groan. She couldn’t bear to look.
“Please.” She forced herself to hold Maksym’s smug gaze through a terrifying crack and a muffled scream. “I will do whatever you ask.”
“Alexei,” Maksym grunted. “Enough.”
Xenia dipped her head, the wordsthank yourising to her tongue on instinct before she realized she didn’t owe this piece of shit an ounce of her gratitude. Two tears dripped onto her lap, staining perfect circles on the green silk.
