A faerie never has to worry about budgeting their magic with one of Bannog’s designs. But his glamours aren’t cheap, and I may as well just dig the knife in now.
A piece of broken porcelain lies on the ground beside me, and I pick it up with my gloved fingers, losing myself in its floral design.
It looks and smells just like honeysuckle. Her scent really does linger.
I still don’t understand what circumstances brought her here. Humans don’t dare venture this far north unless they have a death wish.
Maybe she is running from someone. That fair-haired maiden is keeping something from me, and I’m going to find out. I always do.
My eyes skim over the wreckage, landing on a discarded vase. A spray of flowers spills out like guts, and I roll my eyes.
She’s certainly making herself at home. She even dressed the table in a white lace cloth, and she’s cleaned, too.
The dust and cobwebs are now a thing of the past.
A sharp pinch comes to my hand, and I gaze down at the porcelain shard. I gripped it a little too tightly, and now I have no choice but to use Ivy’s pretty tablecloth to staunch the blood.
The shard even cut into the leather of my glove. How long have I been stewing?
Look what you did, idiot.
“Go away, Rosemary. I’m in no mood for your depressive shit.”
Couldn’t even watch what you were doing. Such a beautiful tablecloth, too. Not like it was yours to destroy, anyway. Just another thing you stole, thief!
A low growl rumbles in my chest. “I said,go…”
She laughs.And you thought the goddess would grant you a favour for once. Turns out that the necklace was as worthless as you are in the end. You’ll never leave this place. You will never be free, never find happiness…
I cover my ears, but my attempts to block out her voice are merely in vain. Her cruelty drones on, slipping through the cracks of my mind.
A haunted cry echoes down the tunnel, and I remove my hands from my ears. What the hell was that?
When the cry doesn’t return, I cast my gaze around, clicking my tongue in frustration. What a mess. I really ought to start cleaning.
A blood-curdling scream splits right down the centre of the mountain, and I leap to my feet, stretching my claws.
It looks as if another banshee sneaked inside the mountain, and this time, I’ll fuckingkill her.
I search the tunnels, scraping my claws along the walls to get them nice and sharp. When I find the bitch, I’m going to rip her jugular out.
The banshee’s cry is coming from Ivy’s room, and it’s like the goddess herself strikes me with a bolt of white-hot lightning.
A banshee’s scream can make a human haemorrhage.
Ivy could die in a matter of seconds.
With a snarl befitting a demon from the dankest pits of hell, I hurry to her room, storming inside. My eyes dart around the cave, searching for the banshee.
I don’t see her, but I do spy a writhing shape beneath the furs and blankets of Ivy’s bed. When I yank them away, I find the human tangled up in her own limbs, and I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.
I just…stare.
What the hell iswrongwith her?
She doesn’t appear to be suffering from a haemorrhage, and now that the adrenaline has vanished from my veins, I finally see…
Ivywas the one screaming.
