Page 54 of Devoured

I whirl as a battalion of soldiers spills into the room—hundreds strong, judging by the shouts below, outside—led by a young man in a glittering crown. Evie springs to her feet as well, eyeing those nearest us. They wear the crest of a werewolf surrounded by whorls of river water and stars, marching in total synchronicity as they reach our table within seconds.

And those looming courtiers go preternaturally still, eyes widening in shock as they glance between their duchess and their general. Even Evie shoots a tense look in my direction.

I don’t return it. I keep my eyes on Balam as she leaps from her chair, howler monkey on her shoulder now, and brandishes her cane like a sword. Her face twists in disgust. “What is the meaning of this, Kaax?”

Kaax Xol, Balam’s grandson and First General of Tenamit Xol, raises his chin. His golden eyes flick from Evie to me and back again before he says coldly to Balam, “I will not allow you to destroy this court. On my life, we will align with Cora Severi. We will remain strong as part of the North American Wolf Queen’s Court.”

Balam’s gaze narrows at the declaration—the only outward sign of her rage before Kaax’s soldiers descend on her.

I step aside as they pick up the old woman as if she’s featherlight and carry her thrashing body out of the room. Her shrieks echo up the stairs for several long, fraught seconds before ending abruptly. Nausea churns in my gut at the silence. At the accusatory stares of her courtiers, surrounded now on all sides by her grandson’s soldiers. All the while Kaax looks at Evie, then nods once. “Is that the princess I was promised?”

Fuck.

I keep my shoulders straight, my back tall, even as Evie’s mouth drops open. Her gaze sparks with fury. With palpable hurt. “What?”

“Yes.” Ignoring her, pretending not to loathe myself, I clasp my hands behind my back and turn toward Kaax. “So long as you send your resources with us to Castle Severi, you may travel to the castle and wed her during the spring equinox.”

Cora wanted this. She wants Evie to stay with us no matter what, and the best way to keep Evie under my mother’s thumb is to mate her to someone who will never leave us. Who will never allow her to leave.

It will force Evie to remain in our grasp forever.

In my periphery, Evie looks seconds from gouging out my eyes with her claws. Perhaps she would if she weren’t surrounded by soldiers. Perhaps I’d even welcome it. But Kaax—he has never seemed more pleased. His stoic, chiseled face lifts in a half grin, and he nods again, one lock of ink-black hair falling in a neat coil over his brow.

“Very well, Prince Sinclair. You have my word.” Kaax unleashes his left claw and slices through his right palm, bleeding freely onto the limestone floor. “Palace Xol remains under the rule of the North American Court. We submit to Cora Severi.”

“Excellent,” I say, forcing myself to meet the disdain in Evie’s eyes. “My mother will be so pleased. Now, if you don’t mind, show us to our rooms. I have a headache, and I’m in dire need of a nap.”

“Yes, of course.” Kaax bows again. “Follow me.”

And, without another thought, I do. Because I am a prince, I am the villain, and I cannot crumble, weep, or snivel.

I simply add another atrocity to my list and move on.

21

VANESSA

BEFORE THE VERY FIRST GLIMMERS OF DAWN, CORA drags me from my room to that daunting wrought iron door.

If anyone could save me from whatever horrible fate awaits, it’s her son. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.

“Where—where is Sin?” Goose bumps prick the nape of my neck. Ice seeps slowly into my bloodstream as Cora clutches my upper arm, her nails cutting into my skin through the long cotton sleeve of my loose white nightgown. She didn’t give me time to change. She just tore open my door and ripped me straight from bed.

“That’s none of your concern.” Her heels continue to echo through the corridor even as we stop and stare at the door. I hear nothing beyond it. No muffled screams. No lashing whips. No torment. Although that doesn’t mean Cora is about to show me mercy.

I force myself to lift my chin. “In two months, he’ll be my mate. His whereabouts are exactly my concern.”

“If either of you survive the next two months.” She presses a palm to the door, and her skin crackles like fresh logs thrown onto a raging fire. Magic sparks in glowing rays around her fingers, seeming to absorb into her flesh and blood after seconds.

The door opens into inky darkness.

Cora and I are alone.

“Inside,” she demands roughly.

I move past her, entering first if only to appear more confident than I feel.

At least she hasn’t recovered from the realm suspiciously closing. She still wears that hint of weakness in her hard voice, in her rigid posture, in the fangs barely cutting into her lips. She’s trying to conceal it, but she can’t. The Wolf Queen strikes a match behind me and lights a hearth with chilling silver flames. Shadows explode around the room, black tendrils writhing against four muted brown walls. Silence pervades the otherwise empty space. There is no furniture inside. There are no rugs, no mirrors—nothing save for cold flames in an ancient hearth.