"They didn't hurt me half as bad as they hurt her." Reese turned his head, and I noticed blood stains coating his side. "You weren't there. You didn't hear the way she . . . ”
"I should've been," Quinn seethed, jaw setting. He buried his face in his knees. "Maybe it'll be quick. If the Brightspears don't get us first, Alistair will definitely kill us."
"Will he?" A slightly older boy, lanky and lean, covered in a tattered cowl, stepped into the yard. "I think he'd be damn proud."
I recognized that voice. Pain shot through my side where Alistair had stabbed me.
Reese shot to his feet, and I saw the full extent of his injuries. Bruises and dried blood coated his limbs, and deep purple welts marred his left eye. Someone had beaten him nearly to death.
"They hurt you," Alistair spoke in a deadly whisper. "Now we'll hurt them."
Reese winced and stumbled. I wanted to lunge forward, to catch him, but the fire stole them away. I wanted to scream, to make the fae lord release me, but I had no voice. No say.
When the flames cleared, I was in a beautiful manor of rich red brick. Flowers and creeping vines grew in abundance, and a lush garden waited outside the windows.
A noble lord descended the sweeping stairwell, hand in hand with a young girl. Her hair caught my eye—it raged with every color found in fire. A white ribbon bound it back.
The man must have been her father. They looked alike and shared the same ruby eyes. His cloak swept behind him as he reached the bottom step and bowed to the Solheart awaiting him there.
The Solheart had a memorable face with a strong jaw and nose. His sandy-blond hair was neatly swept back, falling to the shoulders of his white finery.
"Thank you for this." The Fireborn lord rose from his bow. "I should be back within the week. Brighid is in your hands."
Placing his hand on the girl's back, he pushed her forward. She flinched and looked down.
"That's what friends are for, Astartus," the Solheart said, voice rich and charismatic. "It's no trouble at all."
Lord Astartus squeezed Brighid's shoulder. "Enjoy yourself, my dear. It's not every day one of our kind gets to see Forlaith."
Swallowing Brighid stared longingly at her father as the Solheart led her away. A servant waiting at the doors carried the pair's bags of luggage.
The Solheart man opened the carriage doors and helped Brighid inside. The door closed behind them, but I could see them through the thin windows.
He brushed back her hair and ran a hand down her cheek. She flinched away from him.
My stomach churned, but I could not look away.
The fire changed. Brighid sat on the edge of a lavish bed, hands knitted in her lap. The lord sat by her side and pushed her dress off her shoulders.
I tried to look away, strained to shut my eyes to the man undressing the child. Though I felt like I had no body in this place, I felt hands settle on my shoulders.
"Don't look away now," Vaf's voice whispered. "She didn't get to. None of them did."
My body wouldn't obey. I was frozen, forced to watch the Solheart tear the ribbon from Brighid's hair, as he pushed her down onto the bed.
"Stop," I managed to breathe a single word.
"Stop?" Vaf twisted my shoulders, and the world spun. When my vision cleared, I was back in the red brick manor, watching Lord Astartus hand his daughter off to the wretched Solheart man.
"Keep Lord Sorley company tonight, Brighid," Astartus instructed. "I need to finish some work up in my study."
Brighid was older now, taller, but still lanky with pudgy cheeks. Just a girl. She wore a look of resignation as the Solheart led her to a room and shut the door.
Vaf forced me to watch, this time. Watch what should never have been done to a little girl. The sound of her quiet whimpers would haunt the rest of my days.
The horror was only broken when night freed Brighid from the Solheart's embrace. She stumbled into the garden, curled into a ball, and wept.
Fire consumed the garden, whisking me away to some new atrocity.
