Cosette glanced at Baz, as if he would aid her, when she was about to betray him. Betray her.
“It’s considered a great honor to kiss the emperor’s signet,” Baz said blandly.
“Oh! Yes! Of course! Like you did. Duh.”
She zipped forward, clutched his finger with both arms in an embrace that pressed her chest flush to his finger, and smushed the entirety of her face to the ring with a squeaky mmmmmmmuah that drew out several seconds.
His lips curled in a sneer, Junot flicked his hand with a snap that caught Cosette by surprise.
Arms swinging, in a blur of fuchsia she hurtled toward the wall, before her wings surged to halt her momentum. By then, she was near enough to the shadows that a pair coalesced into gnarled hands and snatched her from the air. She shrieked as they tossed her backward—into a darkness so complete that it swallowed her.
Terencia clutched Junot’s arm. The noblewomen gasped and huddled together. One of the men shrieked, then attempted to disguise it with a manly cough.
Baz suffered from the uncomfortable sensation that the shadows were … chewing on the parvnit. He heard no mastication and had never seen any teeth, even though the cuts all over his body were proof that the shadows did bite. It was a sense that a monster was eating, and that the creature shouldn’t be disturbed while it consumed its meal.
The point into which she’d vanished, as dark as the abyss itself, sucked inward as if on an inhale, then bubbled outward with a whoosh of frigid air that felt like a satisfied belch.
The ever-audible stringed trio trilled jauntily, which made its tune all the more haunting—especially when a minuscule wompa leather boot catapulted from the wall to skid onto the floor.
The shrieker cleared his throat and asked in a deep voice: “Is that … is her leg still inside the boot?”
Zi stalked toward the little boot. She squatted down over it but didn’t touch it. “Yes, it is.”
Shrieker brought a quavering hand to his chest. Even in the dim lighting, his nails glimmered from their recent manicure.
“That’s … monstrous,” exclaimed one of the women.
Terencia tsked and softened her hold on Junot’s arm. “It’s theatrical, is what it is. Haven’t you read the stories, Alicia? The castle enjoys intimidating its guests. Be prepared for an entertaining show.”
When Terencia faced Alicia, Zi gave Baz a tense look that said, The parvnit is either for real dead or at the very least down a leg.
Horror gawped openly on half the aristos’ painted faces. Baz sighed.
“If it will please you, Stepmother, I can see to quartering your lords and ladies elsewhere on the island.”
Shrieker’s knees wobbled before he locked them together and patted his hair, a sky-blue pompadour Baz assumed was a wig.
Terencia pinned Baz with one of her beatific smiles. “That won’t be necessary. Our nobles prefer to remain close should we need them.”
Growing pasty, Shrieker still said, “Of course you are right, Empress. It is our great privilege to serve you and the emperor.” His eyes roved, cataloging Mauldrene’s endless shadows.
Junot was cleaning his ring against his doublet. “I hope you’d already extracted all the information from my soldier that you needed, Alobaz.”
“I had, Father. Her death is of no concern.”
Junot ran his tongue along his teeth, flicking its tip against a fang. “Then you’ll be ready to update me as soon as I finish with the feeders.”
“Of course, Father.”
“The Wonderwater Isles have evaded me long enough.”
Baz couldn’t bring himself to say the rote, Yes, Father, that Junot expected.
Although it wasn’t really any better, Baz said, “As you wish.”
For three hundred and ninety-six years, Baz’s sole purpose had been to fulfill his sire’s desires. However depraved, however unnecessary—whatever their cost to Baz’s essence.
Junot frowned. “Good.”
