Get her out of here, the beast whined.
Not yet,Ronin answered him.We need to stick to the plan.
You are a fool if you think that male has shared his full truth withanyone. End. This. Now.
Up at the altar, Otto positioned himself behind Mireille, his knobby fingers curling over her shoulders.
“Magnificent,” Otto whispered, though it carried through the silent crypt, prickling the hairs on Ronin’s neck. “We have learned something very interesting about Mistress Valette this weekend. Most of you have human heritage in your bloodlines that dates back many, many generations. But hers…”
An involuntary snarl ripped up Ronin’s throat as Otto wrapped an arm around Mireille’s waist and hauled her back against him. “Mireille is half-human.”
Shocked gasps exploded into the room, along with whispered speculations.
“…is she doing here?”
“Thought they were all sent to Tartarus…”
“…does that mean for her power…”
Otto pulled Mireille closer.
Her body was relaxed and her breathing appeared normal. Unafraid.
Ronin’s heart glowed with fierce pride, even as fear chilled his blood, icing his veins and agitating his wolf.
“Perhaps,” Otto said, his voice low and menacing, “we do not need her to perform today at all.”
Ronin tensed into preternatural stillness, flicking his eyes toward Layla, whose face was carefully neutral despite the fingers twitching at her sides, closing in on her knives.
Otto popped his fangs, and Ronin barely had time to burst out of his seat before the Deathstalker yanked Mireille’s head to the side.
And sank his teeth into her throat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The chaos occurred in the blink of an eye.
Otto tore his fangs from Mireille’s flesh, a confused expression flitting across his face, and she crumpled to the floor, her body thrashing as the Deathstalker’s venom coursed through her.
Layla unsheathed a knife and rushed for Nostrata, stealing Otto’s attention.
Several members of the crowd shot to their feet as Ronin darted for the statue to grab the weapons, slinging Bonecleaver over his shoulder. He rushed for the altar, head and heart racing. His wolf clawed frantically at his insides.
“Enough!” Layla roared, her knife pressed against Nostrata’s throat as the ancient female choked out sinister laughs.
Ronin stopped before Kosera, brandishing both axe and sword. “You heard the female,” he growled as Kosera lifted his palms with a knowing smirk.
Keeping his weapons aimed at Kosera, Ronin glanced sidelong at Mireille. Deathstalker venom paralyzed other Fae, and was instantly fatal for humans. He had no idea what effect it would have on a half-breed. He wanted to rush to her, but didn’t dare take his attention from the Greyhorn.
Internally, he begged Mireille to hold on just a few moments longer.
“Give us the flute, Otto,” Layla snarled. “Or I swear by the Creator, I’ll send Nostrata to True Death.”
Otto wiped Mireille’s blood from his mouth, then stepped over her prone body. She was no longer twitching, and Ronin was heartened to see her chest slowly rising and falling. A normal rhythm. How was that possible?
“Now, now,” Otto said, taking a step toward Layla who pressed her knife harder against Nostrata’s neck. A bead of green blood rose on her pale, papery skin, and she hissed in pain. “Do you mean this?” He reached into his tailored jacket pocket and pulled out the instrument. It was so much smaller than Ronin expected, little larger than Otto’s index finger, and milky white with rainbow streaks running through it. “Layla. We are so disappointed in you.”
He stalked closer and Layla backed up a few steps, dragging Nostrata with her into the mouth of the fireplace.
