Page 84 of Beauty

And yet I am alone.

The hag continues her tour of my brain, seeking knowledge. Ifeel her satisfaction that I’m bound to Bronwyn. It’s something she can use,but where is the bitch? The question pounds through me.

Where is Bronwyn?

Each time she asks, my heart squeezes tighter. The hag iseverywhere, in every cell of my being, crawling across every inch of my skin. Ismell the rank scent of the hag filling my nose and the clammy touch of herhand on my head.

This is what she wants to do to Bronwyn. I can see itplainly. The hag wants Bronwyn for much more than a quick execution. She wantsto take her time with Bronwyn. She’s curious. Bronwyn survived when sheshouldn’t have. The hag wants to know why, and when she figures it out she willfind a way to make that power her own.

The vision of what the hag wants makes me gag. I feel bilebubbling up. The hag has me in her hand. I don’t know where Bronwyn is. I sayit like a mantra. Over and over until I am singing it in my head.

Then you are of no use to me.

That cold hand squeezes, and my heart skitters and freezes,an aching agony invading every inch of my limbs. I’m not Lachlan anymore. I ampain. I am despair. All the loneliness I ever felt seems distilled and poureddown my throat like a noxious poison.

This is how I end. This is what I was moving toward all ofmy life.

And then it stops. The hand on my heart pulls away. I feelthe dirt on my face, but I can only groan.

“Your Highness, we need to move.” Roan has a hand on my arm,pulling me up.

“What he means is we’re getting our asses kicked. Moveyours, McIver.” Dellacourt doesn’t mince words.

I force myself to focus. The dead lie all around me, but thehag cut my connection to them when she found her way inside my brain. Withoutthe added soldiers, we’re woefully outnumbered, and I’m still feeling muddled.

I struggle to my feet, reaching for my sword. The villagersare out in mass. They fight for their daughters and wives and sisters. Theyfight with pitchforks and frying pans and bows and arrows.

“What made her stop?” I ask.

“Bron.” Roan points to a spot a hundred feet to the leftwhere Bronwyn stands staring at the hag.

As though the hag has a direct line to the remainingsoldiers’ brains, they all turn, abandoning their personal fights and startingtoward Bronwyn.

“No.” I don’t give a shit how unsteady I am. I’m not lettingthat hag get close to Bron. I pull free of Roan.

“Lachlan, don’t.”

But I’m not listening. I have to get to Bronwyn before thosesoldiers do.

Gillian stands to the side and Duffy close to her. Shim isnext to Bronwyn, his eyes watching as the soldiers come near.

“I want that bitch alive.” The hag’s voice echoes throughthe square.

Of course she wants Bron alive. She wants to dissect her andfind out what makes her tick. The image of what the hag intends to do to mybondmate makes me run toward her, willing to do anything to keep it frombecoming truth.

Bron puts a hand out to Shim, who stands there doingabsolutely nothing. Nothing at all. My twin simply stands there like he’sperfectly happy to let the soldiers take her. Duffy turns, and his small facegoes white with surprise. He drops his axe and starts running my way.

“Lach, no.”

Duffy hits my waist with the force of a small but stubbornlypowerful train. I’m knocked back, my ass hitting the dirt, sword falling frommy hand.

Duffy stands, putting a hand on his chest. “Let Shim do hisjob.”

I sit up, ready to get to my feet and throw myself in frontof my bondmate when I notice that the fighting has stopped. The villagers moveback, disappearing into houses or creeping close to walls. And all eyes are onone woman. Bronwyn.

The soldiers begin to rush, but Bron nods Shim’s way andthere’s a whooshing sound that fills the air. Heat smolders as a ring of fireappears, surrounding the soldiers and trapping them in a neat cage of flames.

But my brother isn’t satisfied. The flames grow and engulfthe soldiers, their dying cries filling the air.