“Stop—” Emmaline tried to shout, but the word barely made it past her ruined throat, thin and broken.
“Don’t talk.” Aeren eased her onto her back. “Don’t move. You could kill yourself after that hit.”
“No.” She tried to shake her head, but Aeren pinned her shoulders, keeping her still.
Across the room, Ursula examined her nails. “It’s been a while since I killed a Lord of the Vale.” Her shadows tightened, twisting the blood chains until Caelith’s neck bent at a sharp, unnatural angle. Skin bulged under the pressure, veins darkening, one more pull away from snapping his head clean off.
“Ursula!” Emmaline’s body bucked as the cry tore free, ripping her throat raw.
Ursula’s head snapped around, her shadows faltering just enough for Caelith to gasp like a fish dragged onto land. “Ems?” Her voice faltered. “Shite—you’re alive.”
Emmaline forced a weak, rasping, “Yes.”
Relief flooded Ursula’s face. “It's almost over. Just hang on till Cassidy gets here.”
Without waiting for an answer, Ursula turned back to Caelith, shadows flexing tighter like a fist closing around his throat.
“No!”
Dark eyes flashed over Ursula’s shoulder. “He’s got to die, Emmaline. You know that.”
“Yeah.” She tried to push herself up, arms shaking so badly they barely held her weight. “Me… me.” She could barely form the words.Not like this. Not fast. Not clean. He stole too much for that.
Aeren’s gaze met hers, then she turned to Ursula. “Can you hold him without the sedative? Long enough to get him downstairs and into the bindings?”
Ursula snorted, shaking loose hair from her face. “She really told you the whole plan, huh?”
“Do it,” Emmaline rasped. It was little more than a croak.
“She’s right,” Aeren said, following Emmaline’s train of thought without missing a beat. “We… we need to take back what he stole from us.”
Ursula’s mouth curved, fingers itching like she was brushing dust from her sleeve—except this time, the gesture sent fresh pain ripping through Caelith, his choked scream scraping over stone and echoing back on itself.
“All right, myLord.” Her voice dripped with mock formality. “You heard the ladies. Time to go.”
“Sluts!” Caelith spat, blood flecking his lips.
“I think that’s enough out of you.” Ursula crossed the room, stopping so close that her tall boots nudged his bent knees.
She reached down, her thumb brushing his lower lip—almost gentle, almost tender. And where she touched, the skin rippled and stretched, lips sealing shut like his body had never needed a mouth atall. Flesh swallowed flesh, leaving behind nothing but smooth skin, a perfect blank where his voice had lived.
Caelith’s whole body seized, eyes bulging as his breath snarled through flaring nostrils. His chest heaved, ribs bucking against his expensive shirt, and the sounds that tried to escape—guttural, wet, frantic—never made it past his throat. They had nowhere to go.
Ursula smiled, and for a heartbeat, Emmaline swore the shadows themselves leaned closer, eager to see what else their queen could take away.
“If my friends decide they want to hear you scream later,” Ursula purred, “we’ll just cut you a new hole.”
Emmaline couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face as she fell back to the floor, exhaustion tugging at her limbs.
Ursula lifted one hand, palm up, and Caelith’s body lurched off the ground, still bound in his own blood. His arms hung limp, feet dragging slightly as Ursula floated him toward the hall, his head banging once against the doorframe on the way out. She didn’t slow.
Aeren slid next to Emmaline, resting her back against the wall as she pulled out her speak-easy, the soft chime of an incoming call cutting through the fading ring in Emmaline’s ears.
“I’m fine,” Aeren said into the device. “It’s over. I’ll explain everything. Just—”
Whoever was on the other end hung up mid-sentence. Aeren stared at the speak-easy, then snorted. “Typical.” She rolled her eyes and shoved it back into her pocket.
“Who—” Emmaline started, but movement beside her stole the rest of the question. Margo stirred, and a fleeting sensation skimmed Emmaline’s hip.
