“Once you’re gone, I’ll send word that a wolf got you. Such a tragic, poetic ending. I’ll have the bard compose a song about it.” He waves a hand as if dismissing the matter. “The contract will be annulled. And he can’t take back what he has already given.”
A low growl emanates from Valen. Heat radiates off his tall body, distracting, but not enough to drive the chill settling in my bones at my stepfather’s words.
“How much gold did he end up giving you?” I ask, hating how my voice shakes. I hadn’t realized a transaction had already occurred over me. “How large were your debts? My Gods, what did you do?”
He gives a low laugh. “Already justifying him. How sweet. A pity you’ll never meet him.”
“He will punish you. You’re playing with fire,” I whisper. “You… you loved my mother. Let me go.” My heart sinks at the coldness in his eyes. “Let’s make a deal.”
“What deal could you ever hope to offer me?” Stepfather sneers. “Your usefulness has been spent.” He taps a finger against his lips. “I am a genius. I admit I didn’t have a clean plan in my mind at first. When I asked Lord Sinen to capture a wolf for me, I only wanted to scare you, but then… then I realized the potential.”
“You could have killed me in my sleep,” I say. “What use did you have for this travesty?”
“Lord Eorl is making alliances with the dark fae. Making one of the wolves my slave and having his future wife killed by the beast will send a powerful message to him… and to the dark fae.”
Valen snorts. “Your slave. You’re funny, old man. Even funnier that you think the wolves will care about this farce.”
“What do you want?” I demand. “What do you really want?”
“I want more.” Stepfather’s eyes gleam with excitement. “I’ll destroy Lord Eorl and get his lands and his subjects. I’ll make alliances of my own, and I’ll extend my sphere of influence all the way to the Palace. Trade deals, commissions. I’ll have a battalion of werewolves at my disposal. They’ll make me powerful.”
“You’re insane,” Valen breathes. “You and what army?” He sniffs. “Fuck, you’re drunk. Permanently drunk, I’d wager.”
“Your only concern,” I say, glaring at my stepfather, “is your gambling games. I doubt you’ll go against Lord Eorl. You only want to keep the manor and continue making a profit.”
“So what? Your disdain stings those who care,” he says coldly. “Not me. I’ll keep the manor, and I’ll find a way to destroy your sweet Lord Eorl. I’ll do what is best for me, and I’ll enjoy your suffering.” He arches his brows. “For your information, I never loved your mother. I only married her for her lands. And the only reason I didn’t kick you out long ago or end your life, insufferable brat that you are, was this marriage that was supposed to benefit me. But now there is nothing left to save you.”
I gulp. “Stepfather?—”
“No.” A manic gleam enters his eyes. “Lord Eorl thinks he controls me? Me, Lord Liam of Nihan’s Creek? I’ll show him who’s the master here.” He raps on the door. “Take them.”
“Where are we going?” I whisper.
“The hall, where everyone can watch. I will pit you against one another, for a laugh. Everyone will witness the wolf killing you.”
“Valen won’t hurt me,” I whisper, my throat tight.
“Valerian,” Stepfather says, “is a full-blooded werewolf. And he will have good reason to kill you, I promise you that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I did promise you a magical sword to fight the werewolf with. And I keep my promises.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ROSAMUND
My heart is thudding so hard, my throat closes as Stepfather leaves the storeroom and his goons enter to lead us away, presumably to my cold-blooded execution.
“Will you kill me?” I ask Valen as we are prodded and marched through the dank basement, heading for the stairwell.
He lets out a dark chuckle. “Are you seriously asking me this?”
“Run away, then,” I say as we pass outside the kitchens, the smell of burning lard and wood smoke making my eyes water.
“Without you? No.”
“Why not?”
