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I’m dying.
Peace and trust flush out any fear, and I’m not sure if it’s an artificial reassurance from the bargain or if it’s how I really feel.
I sense an energy rising around us as I hear Ellister let out a groan of anguish. That deep sound gets louder, turning into a roar as he grieves over what he’s done.
The battle cry is long and deafening, and once he has no air left in his lungs, I swear he affected the bees and birds. There’s no buzzing. No chirping. The wind stops.
Just silence.
He kisses my lips one more time—I barely feel the sweet pressure on my mouth.
Then, I finally slip away into nothing.
ELLISTER
In the past, there’ve been certain times when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, but I realize I was wrong.
As I kneel on the stone floor of Vaeront’s castle with Hannah’s lifeless body in my arms, I know this is the lowest point of my existence.
“I’m proud of you,” Vaeront states passionlessly from his throne.
He’s not proud. He’s relieved.
Relieved that I followed through on a task I was so reluctant to complete.
“She’ll be a good addition to our society.” He gets out his magnifying glass to study Hannah. “She’s not as pretty as I’d hoped. Perhaps she’ll be more attractive once some color comes back to her cheeks. Merina has a hair growth serum to help with those bald spots.”
It’s true, Hannah’s not looking her best right now. Her lips are blue, except for the dried blood I got on her when I kissed her. The hair she has left is greasy from fever sweat. Areas on her face, especially the place under her cheekbones, are sunken from how much weight she lost while the illness ravaged her body.
But this isn’t anything Vaeront hasn’t seen. Many people have been brought to him in much worse shape than this.
If he can’t see how gorgeous Hannah is, the fault is with him. Even with a magical magnifying glass, the asshole is oblivious to real beauty.
“I could try to fix her hair with braids and such until it grows back,” Gia says from beside the throne, free from her confines of the cage. Casually leaning against the twigs and bones, she squints at Hannah. “Also, some makeup would do her some good, but I’m not a miracle worker. I can only do so much.”
“I appreciate your willingness to try, my dear.” Vaeront doesn’t spare his wife a glance, because he’s still staring through the magnifying glass, but his tone is gentle.
They must be getting along today.
“I suppose she could have one of my older dresses,” Gia goes on. “But she’ll have to keep it clean. She must be presentable at all times. Honestly, Vaeront, my lady-in-waiting can’t be ugly. It just isn’t right.”
So that’s the plan they have for Hannah. She’ll be Gia’s servant. I guess that’s better than making her do hard labor outside. Grunt work tends to be the fate for the humans we collect since they don’t have fae powers.
But Gia’s a bitch, and Hannah will despise her.
Gia taps her chin and tilts her head as she continues to inspect Hannah. “Actually, on second thought, it’s good she’s so homely. It would be way worse if she were prettier than me. When we stand next to each other, her plainness will make me look positively radiant.”
I like Gia better when she’s locked up and gagged.
Seconds tick by, and I start to get impatient.
By now, Vaeront would usually be getting out his little box of tools to complete the ritual, but he stays in his seat, moving the magnifying glass left, right, up, and down as he studies… something.
“Are we doing this now or what?” I snap, eager to get Hannah back. “What’s the holdup?”
“Oh. Oh, my.” Vaeront’s exclamation is heavy disapproval. His lip curls back with a grimace, and his voice is full of dread when he says, “There’s a problem.”
Usually one for dramatics, this is the point when he’d cluck his tongue, shake his head, and feign woefulness under barely disguised glee as he delivers the blow of horrible news.
