That bitch is terrified.
Verrick returns to his meal, taking several excruciatingly long bites of roasted quail and herbed parsnips before finally addressing her again. “Many years ago, I was assured by the Archmage himself, along with various other high-ranking members of his organization, that you could handle the task.”
Eloise smooths her hands over her thighs. “I didn’t anticipate the complications with—”
He holds up a hand, silencing her, then continues. “Instead of ushering my daughter into her great destiny, you took it upon yourself to finance her torture at the hands of childhood bullies. Through them, you abused and belittled her, wrung her out until she was little more than a shell of a girl with no access to her magic, fearful of her own shadow. You never even told her about the alliance, about the importance of her role in our—”
“I beg your pardon, highness,” she says, a note of irritation creeping into her contrite tone, “but that’s an unfair categorization. I was merely following your orders in preparing her for the ultimate sacrifice, just as the Forsythes prepared—”
I didn’t even see him move, but suddenly Verrick is towering over her, sword drawn, blade held to her throat.
“On the ground,” he commands.
“I… I’m s-sorry,” she stammers, holding up her hands in surrender. “I meant no disrespect. I was—”
“Now!”
With a pathetic yelp, Eloise slides out of her chair and prostrates herself at his feet, a sniveling shell of the tyrant I once knew.
Despite my own dire circumstances, it’s hard to keep the smug satisfaction from twisting my lips.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen…
He takes another step toward her and slides the tip of his sword beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at his imposing form.
“P-please,” she whispers. “I was wrong to speak out of turn. Forgive me, highness.”
Still chained to my chair, I have little choice but to watch this dark drama play out. Truthfully, though, I’m not sure I could look away even if Ididhave a choice.
Ever since my wedding night, I’ve fantasized about killing her.
Ever since she tried to kidnap me the night of the car crash, I’ve fantasized about making ithurt.
I wanted her to suffer. To die slowly atmycommand, either from my magic or the deep slice of one of Jude’s blades, or even by my own hands wrapped snugly around her neck as Jude cheered me on from the sidelines, eager to carve up her bones.
Just like we killed the mages she paid to torture me.
But looking at her now, Verrick’s blade gleaming in the afternoon light, all I can think is…
Do it. Just put that sword right through her fucking throat and end it…
I can almost hear her gurgled screams, almost smell the coppery tang of her blood pooling on the altar. I grab a fork from the table, my hand tightening around it as if I were holding the sword and sinking it into her flesh…
It’s only when I hear Verrick’s dark chuckle that I finally snap out of my fantasies and tear my gaze away from my stepmother’s terrified eyes.
I have no idea how long I’ve been staring at her, but when I finally glance up at the fae king, I find him watching me intently, his lips tilting ever-so-slightly upward at the corners, eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and pride.
“Perhaps I should let you do the honors, my moon,” he says.
I tighten my grip on the fork, but remain silent.
Abandoning Eloise on the floor, Verrick crosses the altar to stand before me, his sword dangerously close. In a soft, almost soothing voice, he says, “The thought of executing her stirs something inside you. Something primal and dark and utterly, unshakably right.”
I don’t deny it. Ican’tdeny it, because he’s not wrong.
Far from it.
Again, the imagined scent of her blood wafts toward me, filling me with a sick pleasure I’m terrified to name.
