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Slowly her eyelids opened.
I gasped.
Once golden, flecked with hues of green she had gleaned from our bonding, now Morgan's eyes had evolved into something truly ethereal.
Like the surface of an opal, a thousand rainbows seemed to glisten in her irises. Specks of azure, dots of topaz, and pinpricks of sapphire were all in her gaze.
I had never seen a fae with such eyes.
I opened my mouth to tell her, but she was pushing herself to her feet with surprising strength.
I tried to wrap an arm around her waist to support her but gently she pushed it away and turned to face me.
The look in her eyes was like a knife in my heart.
“What did he do to you?” I could hear my voice, rough and strained with desperation.
“Not now.” Her eyes were pleading. “Not here. Not yet.”
I nodded.
Later I would learn all that had transpired in this cursed place.
And later, I would help her heal.
But first, my silver one would do as she liked.
Bending down to pick up Excalibur, she walked slowly across the room to where the man hung on the wall.
“You’ve strung him up.”
She did not comment on the bindings I had used. The dark shadows which furled and coiled like living, breathing things.
“I thought you would like to decide what to do with him.” I wouldn’t call it a gift. More like an offering. The least she was owed.
“I would. Thank you.”
She stepped towards the man and he curled his bloody lips into a leer that made me want to smash his teeth in again and again.
“You cannot harm me,” Morgan said softly, her eyes on his blue ones. “You cannot touch me. Not with my mate here. Not with them–” She gestured to all of the dead fae lying around us. “–here.” She touched a hand to her heart and the man’s eyes widened slightly.
“But first...” She turned back to where the breastplate lay behind her. “This horror you created should never have existed.”
A burning ball of flame shot from her hand and ignited the piece of armor.
In an instant, it was a steaming pile of ash.
“That’s what you’ll be soon, Fenyx,” she said simply as she stared at the ashes.
Let the bastard’s name be unwritten from the history of the world. It could not happen soon enough.
Fenyx was snarling and writhing against his bindings. I knew it would be of no use.
“He’s only mortal,” I said to my mate as she continued to stare. I reached out to touch her arm, then withdrew it. Trying to remember that she had asked me not to touch her. “Flesh and blood. He has no power over you.”
She nodded. “Nothing but the power of evil inside of him.” She turned and pointed across the room. “My uncle.”
My eyes swept to where she had gestured. The elderly man with the white beard, his chest cavity cut open.
