Page 42 of Devoured

The honesty makes me sick. Because Sin’s honesty isn’t like anyone else’s. It’s twisted and gnarled, and more often than not, it’s worse than his lies. My heart skips a beat. The world starts to tilt underfoot. “Then what were you—”

“Inside now,” Cora hisses. Her words grow roots in the room, climbing the walls like ivy and smothering every other sound. “Hurry up, Healer Brash. I will not wait any longer.”

She watches the door with keen eyes as a man in stark white robes staggers through. Though the masses instantly part for him, Cora descends the steps, walking straight into the aisle to meet him.

I swallow hard.

Unkempt—robes wrinkled and dull brown hair tangled—Healer Brash rushes past Citrine’s unconscious body, past the cart woman too, and approaches Cora with a shaky exhale. Paper crinkles between his hands. “Your Highness,” he blurts, too swiftly at first. Too clumsily. He straightens with a “Your Majesty,” and bows his head instead.

“What is it, Healer Brash?” Cora snaps.

This healer is new. One of Cora’s Bitten werewolves. He can’t be all that adept at werewolf toxicology. Ghostbane is too rare, and Evie was too careful.

My stomach clenches, but I try not to react as Healer Brash stands on his tiptoes and whispers into Cora’s ear. Calix and Sin shift closer to me as others press against our backs to listen. None of us can hear what the healer says.

A sweat breaks out across my forehead. I don’t glance at Evie, even as every bone in my body aches to do so. This was part of the plan. We knew a healer would have to confirm the victims’ states. I can’t look at Evie.

Cora nods once at whatever she’s been told, her head tilted in consideration as her flat black eyes gaze outward. When he’s finished, the healer quickly melts into the crowd, vanishing behind the others. Probably for his own safety. Cora seems to weigh the information for several more excruciating seconds before speaking.

“Well?” Her voice is the hoarse scrape of knife against whetstone. The court falls immediately silent. “Would anyone like to confess to their crimes?”

Of course, no one answers. It would be certain death to do so. I shrink lower in the crowd. Don’t look at me don’t look at Evie don’t look at me—

Calix’s furious gaze burns through my cheek, however, as if he can see every thought, every plan, every malicious seed of intent planted in my mind. He’s going to paint a target directly on my forehead if he keeps it up. Subtly, I lift my left heel and grind it atop his right foot. His eyes narrow in turn. They seem to say: “I know you did this. I know your secrets, Vanessa.”

But he can’t. He can’t know it was me.

I grind my boot harder over his foot until he curses low, under his breath, and pulls away.

“No?” Cora turns, slowly stalking down the line of courtiers. My knees lock, and it takes everything in my power to remain upright. “How… disappointing. I tolerate cowards even less than I do murderers.”

She stops abruptly in front of Jasper, her nails—claws—easing down his torso and pausing over his heart. He watches her raptly, golden eyes gleaming as his body shivers with wicked anticipation. All the while my lungs contract, and my heart pounds.

“If you’re brave enough to wage war, at least draw blood,” she purrs, leaning toward Jasper and whispering conspiratorially near his lips. “Poison. A mortal’s strategy.”

Mortal.

Shit. Is she… Could she be talking about me? I shift closer to Calix, hoping the bulk of his muscles will somehow hide me.

Jasper licks his lips as Cora resumes her leisurely perusal of the room. “Not only did you fail to kill anyone, but now you refuse to step forward? To claim your prize?” She laughs, the sound lingering in the air like smoke after a bomb, and continues to the very back of the room. Far too close to Evie for comfort. I bite down on my tongue. “You paralyzed twenty-five werewolves in broad daylight. Surely this is the attention you so desperately sought. Come on, my pretty, pretty poisoner. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Sin shifts in front of me, half his body blocking mine from sight as his hand accidentally grazes my own, but all it does is draw Cora’s attention. The Wolf Queen spots the movement as if she’s been looking for it, salivating for it. A predator scenting her prey, she pivots on her heel and tilts her head. Fuck. Calix tenses beside me. Sin tenses too. And blood floods my mouth, hot copper and hotter saliva almost choking me.

Cora smiles before she says, “Tell me, Evelyn Lee. What do you think?”

My heart falls through my stomach, and I sway slightly.

Evie doesn’t react as Cora’s sharp steps echo through the chamber, headed right toward her now. A droplet of water splatters my forehead, and I wince. Evie, however, straightens at the queen’s approach, calmly lifting her eyes. She appears bored. Detached. Maybe even slightly amused. She is the world’s most brilliant liar while I think the ground might open, devour me, send me to the pits of hell where I deserve to rot for eternity. I grind my teeth, forcing my expression neutral. Stifling all those emotions thrashing in my chest.

This is bad.

“What do I think about what? Cowards?” Evie asks, her voice dull. “Can’t say I know much about them. Perhaps you would rather shed light on the subject.”

Oh god.

I can’t watch this implode, but I also can’t close my eyes without it being glaringly obvious that I care. Tearing my gaze away, it falls instinctively on that spot in the corner where the bishop once existed. Where, suddenly, he exists again. Watching me now.

His lips twist upward, as though wrenched by invisible hands, into an eerie, lifeless grin.