“And I’ll have my fire.” Mireille pushed up from the floor.
Cassandra knew they were right. Sheknewit.
But a cry outside turned her attention back to Ana, who was trembling upon the ledge of an open window in the east tower. The old woman whimpered as a gust of wind billowed the skirt of her filthy dress.
Wormwood smiled wickedly behind her. “Don’t make me do it! If this woman dies, her blood is onyourhands. The Koenig is waiting in the throne room. You’re late for your appeal.”
Wormwood tightened his grip on Ana’s neck, and she grappled for his hands. Her rheumy, terrified eyes caught Cassandra’s across the expanse.
“Please,” Ana rasped. “Please. I was wrong. I don’t want to die in here.”
Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut, tears coating her lower lashes.
“Clock’s ticking!” Wormwood crooned. “And we have plenty more humans in here if you keep dragging your feet.”
Cassandra peeled her attention from the window, then turned toward the others. Tristan’s expression was pained, Mireille’s determined, Ronin’s furious, and Silas’s resigned.
“I’m going to do this,” Cassandra declared. “It’s been my destiny since I arrived. To fight him.”
“Yeah, but you were supposed to havehelp.” Mireille winced as Ronin helped her to her feet. “Ronin and I were supposed to fight alongside you.”
“Well, it seems the Koenig is changing the plan.”
“What are you doing in there, challenger Fortin?” Wormwood’s slithery voice called out, followed by Ana’s panicked yelp.
Cassandra cupped Tristan’s face. “I just need to stay alive until Cael arrives. I don’t have to beat the Koenig. I just have tosurvive.”
Tristan grimaced. “We have no idea when that will be. How long do you think you’ll be able to hold out?”
Cassandra squared her shoulders, flaring her wings. “I’ll?—”
A scream pierced the air, followed by a crunching, squelching, splat.
She rushed to the window, and looked down upon Ana’s frail body, broken apart on the stone.
Hatred blazed through her veins, blowing apart her grief, as she glared at Wormwood.
Another human life wasted, crunched beneath the boot of an indifferent Fae master. This could not stand.Wouldnot stand.
“Oops.” The weasel bi-form shrugged, then leaned out of the tower and shook his head. “I think she slipped. Better go get ano?—”
“DON’T!” Cassandra roared. “I’m coming.”
Tristan’s head was bowed when she turned back. She stepped into him and lifted his chin with her finger, whispering, “If we let those humans die for me, how can we possibly claim to be their leaders in our new world? We’d be no better than your father. No better than your brother. Every being on this planet deserves a chance at life, right?”
Tristan’s lips kicked up, despite his obvious anxiety. “You want to lead with me? What makes you think I’m offering you the job?”
She grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him fiercely, not giving a damn about their audience. She broke away, placing her hand upon his heart. “Because fuck fate, remember? There’s no one else for either of us. And you can pretend all you want that you’re not totally turned that I’m about to go down there and kick some Koenig ass, but we both know different.” She winked. “So stay close, Birdman.
“You’re not going to want to miss this.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
The throne room was eerily silent beyond the archway.
As the group approached, Tristan paused and Cassandra tried not to read too much into the tension roiling off his muscled body. She knew it wasn’t because he didn’t believe in her abilities. He was just utterly terrified at the thought of any harm befalling her.
She glanced over her shoulder toward Silas, who gave her a firm, determined nod.
