Was that fear flashing across his face?
“What is this?” he whispered, almost to himself.
I flicked my gaze between the cat and the king, heart hammering.
Wait.
I knew that cat.
The king’s gaze snapped to me, sharp and suspicious.
“Who sent you?” he barked.
“What?” I gasped. “No one! I—”
The chamber doors slammed open.
Thorne stormed in, a dark figure wreathed in fury. In his hand, he carried a burlap sack dripping with something dark and wet.
“Ashton,” Thorne said coldly. “You demanded my audience when I returned. I’ve brought you a gift.”
He flung the sack onto the banquet table. It spilled open with a wet, ugly sound. I stumbled back, horror rising.
Inside lay a severed wolf’s head, the mouth slack, eyes glassy with death.
The king staggered forward, transfixed.
“Is that…?”
“Caius Markham,” Thorne said coldly. “Vael’s wolf general.”
A twisted grin unfurled on Ashton’s face. “And his pack?”
“Decorating the grounds of Darkmoor,” Thorne replied without emotion.
Ashton clapped his hands once, delighted. “Oh, this will enrage him. This is perfect, Thorne.” He lifted the sack again, gazing at the bloodstained cloth with something close to reverence. “I think I’ll mount this above the throne.”
A flicker passed over Thorne’s face. Disgust, maybe. But he lowered his head.
“Yes, sire.”
Ashton turned to me again, all amusement now sharpened into a predator’s smile.
“Dinner’s over, my dear. You’re dismissed. Run along to your room, we’ll continue this another time.”
Relief hit me like a wave.
I didn’t hesitate. I turned, walking swiftly for the doors with my pulse hammering in my ears.
Only when I was out of the chamber, out of his line of sight, did I allow myself to breathe.
Thank the gods.
Chapter 21
Thorne
What the hell was she wearing?
