Verrick fingers a lock of my hair, making me shiver. “Westlyn of Wintermoon. Was there ever any doubt that you were my child?”
Westlyn… of Wintermoon?
At this, I finally regain my senses. Jerking free of his grasp, I glower at him and say, “I don’t doubt that I’m your biological offspring, Verrick. I just despise it.”
The proud gleam in his eyes dulls a fraction, and he sighs. “Ah, well. I suppose that’s to be expected. All children go through a rebellious phase, do they not?”
“This is no childish rebellion,” I assure him. “Youdisgustme. The only reason you’re even here is that you tricked me into hocus-pocusing you into existence.”
Another dark chuckle. Another sigh. “You are as willful and fiery as your mother, and yet—”
“Donotspeak about my—”
His sword is at my throat, freezing me in place. “Tell me, daughter. Does the idea of spilling the shadow witch’s blood tempt you? Fill you with a sense of power that makes your nerves sing, your heartbeat quicken, your very life force hum with pleasure and possibility?”
I’m not sure if he actually expects an answer, but with his sword at my jugular, I don’t dare move, not even to nod or draw a breath to speak.
“The sheer power of holding another being’s fate in your hands,” he continues, “the simple brutality of a sword pressed to a helpless throat, the inexplicable joy of watching the light dim from the eyes of the unworthy… These imagesintoxicateyou as surely as they intoxicate me…” His words fade into a seductive whisper, his sword biting into my skin.
A shuddering hiss escapes my lips, and I close my eyes, unable to hold his penetrating stare.
Unwilling to admit just how close to the bone those words actually cut.
A tear slips down my cheek as Verrick continues to peel back my layers and flay open the darkest parts of my heart, one unnerving declaration at a time.
Auggie believes I’m a good person, and he’s partly right—Ihavebeen good. So far. But all it takes is one decision, one small action to put yourself on the other side of a line yousworeyou’d never cross, and then what? You draw a new line, a little farther out. Then you cross that one, too. Another line, another step, and…Goddess.I’ve already crossed all those lines. I freakingobliteratedthem the night I carved up those mages… and I enjoyed every second of it.
What if Iamlike my dark-fae father? Draegan told me the Wintermoon fae are the worst of the worst. And Wintermoon isn’t just some trendy fashion choice like vintage punk or boho chic—something you can try on and discard at will.
It’s a bloodline.
And maybe that bloodline is more a part of me than I want to admit.
“Dusk approaches, sire,” a deep voice murmurs from somewhere behind Verrick, scattering my thoughts. “We need to make the preparations.”
Verrick holds my gaze another beat, his cruel smile lingering, then finally slides the sword back into the scabbard at his hip. Turning toward the man behind him—one of the shadow mages, I now see—he says, “Help the woman to her feet and clean up the altar.”
He does as the fae king asks, helping an unsteady Eloise to stand. She brushes the dirt from her suit, refusing to meet my eyes.
“And the girl?” the mage asks, nodding toward me with a look that says I’m last week’s trash and he doesn’t want to touch me.
“Put her in the sacristy,” Verrick replies, and with a snap of his fingers, my chains vanish.
I try to bolt to my feet, but my legs collapse beneath me, and I fall right back into the chair.
Damn it.
“Give her another shot,” Verrick says. “Only a half dose this time—just enough to calm her nerves and keep her still.”
“No!” I shout. “No shots. I’m fine. I won’t run. I’ll—” Before I realize what’s happening, the mage is jamming a needle into my neck. A sharp sting, then warmth floods my veins, and everything inside me turns as heavy as lead.
“What of the other prisoner?” the mage asks. “Should we relocate him?”
Prisoner? There’s another prisoner?
I try to speak, but my lips are swollen, my throat tight, everything inside me shutting down.
“Yes!” Eloise practically shouts. Then, at Verrick’s sharp glare, she lowers her head and says, “I mean, I think it’s best to keep the prisoners separated, but—”
