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A sickly-sweet smile crossed Mallory’s face, one that told Bryn that Mallory had been waiting a long time to say these words. And she said them, though her voice shook.
“Your father was smart enough to take the child born to him by that useless feral bitch. She wanted to raise you in their sinful clans, and he refused. Why he even bothered touching a demon—”
Bryn’s hand was wrapped around Mallory’s throat before she could finish the thought.
Shoving Mallory against the wall, it took every ounce of willpower she had not to snap her neck. Bryn was desperately fighting herself, the Morrigan, and while fear ran along the surface of her mind that the Morrigan might take this too far, the fear in Mallory’s eyes fed the monster inside.
The monster that begged Bryn to kill the weak woman. To protect the damaged girl that she had been by destroying the one who had hurt her and made her feel she was less.
“You dare speak of the woman who gave me life in that way? The woman from whom you stole her child?” Bryn asked, the echo in her voice sounding as if two women spoke at once.
Mallory struggled for breath, her eyes bulging, and Bryn lessened her hold slightly for the woman to speak, though she doubted she would get any insightful information. She had to end this now because Bryn could feel herself receding, the other part growing stronger as she could actuallysmellMallory’s fear.
“Where is my mother now? Is she still in Cethin?” growled Bryn, no longer seeing Mallory as a bitter aunt with whom she had to deal with the daily antagonism. No, now she was Bryn’s enemy as much as the king and his demon wraiths.
Perhaps Mallory didn’t maim her victims with a sword but instead used her words and neglect.
And sometimes that could be just as deadly.
“Mountains... outside... of Cethin.”
Kill her. End all your troubles now. So easy to just snap her fragile human neck...
Fighting herself, the part that was the Morrigan yet familiar enough that Bryn knew that it had always been there in the deepest recesses of her mind. Bryn tightened her hand before she came back to herself and released her aunt.
Holding herself back from grabbing Mallory again, she watched the woman fall to the floor in a heap of shaking mess, the predator deep inside her screaming for her to finish off her prey.
Bryn stepped away, though she stayed ready to grab Mallory by the throat again should she move or speak in a way Bryn, the Morrigan, didn’t like.
“The Dearil Mountains. My mother lives in the death mountains?”
Rubbing at her throat, Mallory looked up at Bryn with eyes full of unleashed anger.
“Does it really surprise you that you were born of death?”
Bryn couldn’t say it did anymore. Not when she was learning more about herself, and her deadly abilities, every day.
Chapter 38
Grabbingherold,beatenleather bag she had used long ago when providing lackluster medical care, Bryn stuffed her meager belongings into it.
“You cannot go out to find your mother alone. The wraiths will surely destroy you too.”Kian appeared near her as she shoved a bra into the bag, his eyes laser focused on the item for a second longer than she thought a guy without a body might.
Looking up at her raised eyebrows, he gave a panty-melting smile.“Still have the mind of a man who was once very much alive, Phantom Queen.”
Bryn snorted, wishing she could bask in the playfulness he was falling more and more into each day, but instead, she moved to the trunk that held her extra items for cold and her dresses.
The whiskey was already packed.
The Dearil Mountains were known to be some of the coldest areas left in their world. Nothing she owned would prepare her for the drop in temperatures, but she hoped even if she didn’t find her mother, she would find goodwill among her mother’s people.
But did it actually matter where she went? She knew she couldn’t stay here. Mr. Rafferty wouldn’t be running Ifreann for much longer, and with her having attacked Mallory, one of their most fervent believers, that only guaranteed her death here.
Stopping her erratic packing, Bryn put her hands on the bed, taking in huge gulps of air as she realized she was not as settled with the idea as she thought.
“I would hate... to begrudge... you my... death at your hands,” she whispered between pained breaths.
“Exactly. It would be a great disservice to me.”
