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“The ugly bitch deserved it.”His unguarded thoughts crash into my mind.
My eye twitches. What did he call her?
He schools his face to innocence. “Sir?”
I seize his mind, rifle through his memories, and...
“Look at that ugly bitch’s face.” My laugh joins the others in the crowd. “Seriously, what kind of slut must she be for them to let her get away with all the rules she breaks?”
“Her face makes me want to vomit.”
“Go on, shout something. Join in the fun.” I elbow my neighbor, then throw my voice above the other jeers. “Freak!”
She looks our way, ugly, bulbous, deformed features bloated. Her eyes are red and puffy. She chokes and spluttersunder a magical stream of water that leaves steam curling from her raw, red skin.
There is no word to describe the consuming rage filling me with blinding, murderous hunger. Sylvanar tried to drown her while she walked. Our queen is terrified of water. What’s worse is, I finally know what Titania’s curse is. All this time Willow suffered insults and judgment. I should have known, should have dipped into minds sooner, but I was trying to be good. Trying to?—
Don’t kill.
My fangs elongate. My mouth salivates for the taste of blood. I drop my head and take a moment. Legion’s warning echoes in my mind.Reveal yourself and jeopardize everything.
Don’t. Fucking. Kill.
“Sir, can I help you?”
My hand plunges into his chest, cracking ribs, latching around the pumping muscle. It pumps to hurt her. This is justice. My wraith hurtles into his body. We scrape his wicked soul from the fibers of his being, sucking every morsel. His body emaciates before my eyes. Juicy, tasty mortal soul. So sad it is now over. I devour his heart in seconds, lick my lips, and groan as my wraith returns home with his entire soul.
His corpse thuds onto the floor. I blink. Stare. Smash my lips together and wonder... it’s only one corpse. It’s fine.
The Baleful Hunt’s roar above the tower trembles the foundations—grains of plaster crumble from the ceiling. I dust my shoulders, set the corpse on fire, and continue up the staircase to the next level.
Don’t kill. Don’t kill. Don’t kill more.
I step onto Sylvanar’s floor and scan the circular room. The bed is messy. The desk is upturned. Papers and books are strewn on the floor. An open archway leads outside to the turret, the nest of the Baleful Hunt when it isn’t guarding the Cabinet. Hestands bowed, hands braced on a table filled with red gemstones and... one twinkling star trapped inside a pendant. Flint-gray eyes meet mine and widen briefly before narrowing.
“She had it coming,” he sneers. “If you’d done your job and disciplined her the first time, this wouldn’t have happened.”
I grin.
He steps back. “Your teeth.”
Oops.
“Stay there.” He darts a nervous glance to the turret. “I’ll call my Hunt.”
“Too late, I’m afraid.”
I am already inside him, consuming his soul. So much tastier than his son’s. So much power, and... light. I nibble around the edges of it, but want it to remain more or less in one piece for the Wild Hunt. He might have made a formidable ally against Titania. What a shame his son was a molester.
He tries to summon his Hunt—a feeble attempt at freedom. His heart is mine. My fist breaks his chest open. I take his heart and bite. Blood oozes down my throat with such sweet satisfaction.
A jaunty whistled tune cuts through the haze of my feast. My wraith returns to my body in a snap, bringing the Earl’s soul into purgatory.
“Goodfellow,” I snarl.
Titania’s auburn-haired sycophant strolls in. He wears a green floral-embroidered tunic and brown stockings. He casually tosses a stone and catches it in his fist.
“Oh, my,” he croons. “What a mess you’ve made.”
