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“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said on a stiff exhale. “It’s clear.”

“Excellent!” The high-pitched shrill was back, scraping against my eardrums. “Oh, and I don’t like the way that guard right there is standing. He looks a little bendy in the knees, don’t you think?”

I turned to follow her pointed finger, where a row of faerie guards stood vigil in twin lines down the throne room, all clutching spears and adorned in three-horned helmets and silver armor. They’d been so still and silent this whole time, they might as well have been part of the pillars rising to the arched, painted ceiling.

The specific guard she was indicating stood as straight as his spear, but his eyes flicked toward us beneath his helmet, widening when he realized his queen was talking about him.

“No,” I said swiftly. “He does not look bendy in the knees to me, Your Majesty.”

“Hmm,” Queen Mydusia mused. “I collected a power a few decades ago that allows me to smell emotions beyond typical faerie capacity, you know, and this guard… he smells afraid. Why would he be afraid unless he knows he did something wrong?”

I blinked, suddenly wondering what I smelled like. Rage and loathing, perhaps?

Queen Mydusia gave another titter, as if that was exactly the case.

“Snap his neck for me, General Steeler.”

“What?”

I whirled to face her, forgetting, for a moment, to avoid her gaze. Thankfully, the veil still hung in swaying ripples over her face.

“You heard me.” Her painted lips curled upward. “He’s not meeting my expectations, so I need you to snap his neck for me. Now.”

Once again, the tattoo convulsed on my back, and I felt those invisible hooks lifting as if to draw a sword. But I’d left Old Veracious on my ship, so all I had were my bare hands… which I curled into fists, digging my nails into my skin, trying to resist.

No, I wanted to say, but the word jammed in my throat, and I pivoted to face the guard again.

Now he was definitely bendy in the knees. His legs trembled slightly even while his fellow guards continued to stand erect and unmoving, not a twitch among them. Yet he didn’t run. Didn’t beg me to stop.

Again, I tried to tell Queen Mydusia no.

My legs lurched forward instead.

Fuck. I really didn’t want to do this. Not just because the poor bastard hadn’t done anything wrong, but because I wanted to prove to myself that when the time came, I’d be able to hold back from hurting the people I loved, too. I needed to fight it—to gather the willpower and push back.

Sharp pain shot through my limbs, and I staggered forward even more.

“Surely it doesn’t take the Fated General this long to handle one little task,” Queen Mydusia trilled behind me.

Wrath pumped through my veins, but I jerked forward again, and the guard still wasn’t running. Just standing there, trembling, spear in hand, waiting to die.

His steadfast loyalty to his realm and queen wouldn’t budge him.

But maybe I could.

Forget your misplaced honor, I said, shooting my command into his brain. Fight back, dammit.

The guard blinked at me, his face draining of all color as my command latched onto him and peeled away all rules and dignity at the forefront of his mind, leaving nothing but a feral instinct to survive…

And then his arm came back, and he threw his spear.

I fought the queen’s command long enough for the sharp tip of the weapon to graze my side, slicing skin, before my Walking power grabbed hold of me and spit me out right behind him.

The guard twirled, his training no doubt kicking in, fist flying toward my face. I caught his wrist without even meaning to and twisted, my leg kicking out to catch his ankles before I threw him to the ground.

His armor clanged against the floor, but he rolled expertly toward his spear a few paces away, grabbed it, and…

I appeared at his side in a blink, ripping the weapon from his hand and pointing it at his face instead.