He’d always known his Daredevil couldn’t be tamed.
Not even by death.
Aedelmar cautiously approached Cassandra, his footsteps the only sound in the hall. As if every one of his Brethren and each and every prisoner held their breath. He towered above her, clutching the hammer’s handle and frowning deeply.
Tristan’s protective instincts flared as Aedelmar grabbed Cassandra’s hand and wrapped it around the handle.
He uttered a single word, a bit garbled without his tongue, but clear enough to interpret.
“Koenigin.”
Queen.
Of Tartarus.
Cassandra had won her appeal.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Cassandra hefted the hammer into the air, grinning at the male who’d turned it over to her.
And though she hated Aedelmar for the cruelty he’d enforced here in Tartarus—she would never,ever, forgive him for how he’d treated the humans and the half-breeds—a part of her understood why he’d become such a monster. The loss of his wife, his people, his way of life… It was enough to drive a male past the brink of sanity.
She glanced over her shoulder at Tristan, those visions from the pool swimming behind her eyes.
Yes, she could understand it.
Silas shuffled over. “Hate to be the bearer of annoying news, but one of you must die by the other’s hand. Or else ownership of the hammer will not transfer.”
The hall tensed, and a flurry of sounds erupted: the hiss of unsheathed weapons, the pop of newly exposed claws, rumbling growls and snarls.
The Koenig grunted, then signed to Silas, who through a mix of intelligent guesses and pantomiming was able to interpret for him.
Silas addressed the hall, “He says she is the Koenigin now. Resurrected by divine force. He will die by her hand.”
Cassandra passed the hammer to Tristan. “Careful with that, Birdman,” she winked, lightning writhing up her fingertips.
Aedelmar made another series of hand gestures.
“I think…” Silas began, “he’s asking about his Brethren. About what you intend to do with them.”
Cassandra flicked her eyes toward the blond-haired male with the brown wings who’d thrown her into the moat. She had no desire to give him any kind of chance. She thought about Jonas, who’d taken advantage of his power over Mireille to use her for his own sick amusement. He certainly hadn’t deserved more than the savage death Ronin had already delivered.
Couldanyof the Brethren be worthy of forgiveness?
There was only one person Cassandra trusted to answer that question.
“Their fates will be decided by Mireille Valois-Fortin,” she pronounced, jutting her chin toward the she-wolf, who was still propped up by Ronin. Mireille offered the Brethren nothing but stone-cold indifference. Many trembled. “When she’s ready.”
Cassandra glanced up at Aedelmar. His eyes were closed, and his face was soft. Resigned.
Cassandra pointed the tip of a crackling finger at his left breast.
His eyes snapped open and he wrapped his hand around her wrist, his eyes saying what he no longer could.
Do it. Mercy. Please.
Cassandra gripped his shoulder for leverage, and just as she was about to unleash a bolt, a shuddering boom rattled the castle walls.
