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“She’s dead?” Heph asks curiously.
“I guess that’s relative to where you are. She’s alive enough here in the Underworld.”
Thalia, ever kind and polite, steps closer to us. She keeps her hands clasped before her but smiles brightly. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Thalia.” She gives me a slight punch to my arm. “This big brute’s daughter.”
I shoot a glare at Thalia, but I don’t miss the slight quirk of Nyssa’s lips. She inclines her head. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
I introduce Bastien and Heph, but before they can extend greetings, Calix pops back into the room, and he looks like he’s ready to vomit. “Your Grand Resplendence, I’ve been able to find out what happened to your… um, well, your…”
“Her name’s Nyssa,” I say blandly.
“Yes, Nyssa,” Calix says and bows. “A million apologies.”
I point to her throat. “Who did that to her?”
Calix’s bottom lip trembles. “It was Sorcha.”
My eyes shoot to Nyssa, and I’m stunned to see her slowly backing away from me, fear etched on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude to her—”
I hold up a hand, cutting her off. Looking at Nyssa but addressing Calix, I grit out, “Get Sorcha and bring her here now.”
Calix blinks out of sight.
I move to Nyssa, vaguely aware of Thalia stepping away to give us some privacy. Once again, my hand goes to Nyssa’s chin. “I’m not mad at you. Sorcha knew not to touch you.”
I note my hand trembles, and it’s only because of the rage churning inside me. Nyssa is off-limits to everyone, and the penalty was made clear. Sorcha could have fucking killed her—permanently this time—with her strength. If Nyssa dies here, there’s no undoing it.
Potential death aside, it’s enough that Sorcha caused her pain.
Calix reappears, out of breath. “She’s gone back to Calashte, Your Majesty.”
If that witch thinks she can hide from me…
I envision Truett’s house where Sorcha resides and pull on every bit of power that Zora imbued within me. I seek Sorcha, home in on her essence, and bend distance. I pull her right to me—sitting at a table with Truett drinking ale.
I don’t step through, though, my power rippling all around as I hold the two distances together. Five feet from me as I stand in my own castle is Truett’s dining room. He and Sorcha are stunned.
With only my thoughts, I jerk Sorcha from her chair and she flies toward me. My hand wraps around the front of her throat, exactly how I envision she had hers around Nyssa’s.
I squeeze hard, and she tears at my hands with her nails. Truett crosses the divide, and I release the distance, letting it snap back into place.
He says nothing, but a quick glance his way and I see him pleading with me not to hurt her.
My voice quakes with fury. “You knew she was not to be touched.”
Sorcha’s face screws up and hatred blazes from her eyes. “She’s a filthy human. Our kind hates humans, and yet you care for her like a little puppy. It’s disgusting.”
I could rip off Sorcha’s head right now and end her life, but that’s too good for her. She’d just be unmade.
“You knew the penalty was the Crimson River,” I snarl. “You deserve no less.”
I’m prepared to bend distance right to the bridge and hurl her over, but it’s Nyssa who lunges at me, her small hands wrapping around my biceps. “Don’t. Please don’t throw her in.”
My eyes drop down to her as I easily hold Sorcha one-handed. “My rule is absolute.”
“I’m begging you, Amell. Please don’t do it. Give her a pass.”
I frown. “She would have killed you.”
