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By the time she’d roared back into that clearing, he was gone. Not even the fae could heal the dead.
Let them all hear her screams. Let them be carried away on the wind, cooler now that winter was descending upon Baylaur.
If they’d been in the terrestrial kingdom, Gwen would have tied her to one of the parapets of the castle on the edge of Wolf Bay. She would have let the cold wind whip at her, flaying away her pale skin layer by layer until she was nothing but exposed muscle and blood.
But they were not in the terrestrial kingdom.
So she’d torture her here.
“What is it?” she asked for the second time, holding up the opaque white crystal.
She’d found it in a concealed pocked of Igraine’s gown.
The Dowager’s eyes were unshifting. Her mouth unmoving. She was bound to the chair, perched in the center of the balcony, where everyone could hear her screams.
Oh, how Gwen would savor those screams—when the time came.
For now, the Dowager held her silence.
A thrum of excitement coursed through Gwen as she reached into the leather satchel attached to her belt.
“What other secrets are you hiding?”
Gwen didn’t wait for an answer. She leaned over the Dowager and slashed across her stomach. The former High Queen of Annwyn blanched, her nose wrinkling at the foul scent. Her eyes widening.
“Do you like my new tool?” Gwen purred. “The skoupuma fought valiantly, of course. A vicious creature. Strong. But she bowed to my lioness before it was over. They all do.”
That was a bluff.
Merlin had gotten away. Spirited away through that mountain rift by the Shadows before Gwen’s lioness could reach her.
But Igraine didn’t know that. Let her believe she’d torn the priestess apart with her teeth before returning to the goldstone palace to finish her off.
Gwen held up the white crystal in her other hand. “Tell me what it is, or I’ll puncture that pretty skin of yours.”
The Dowager’s eyes flashed. But not with fear… with calculation. “If you kill me, you won’t be able to question me.”
Gwen clicked her tongue, letting the feline smile climb her face. “Try me.”
The Dowager stared right into Gwen’s eyes and closed her mouth.
Excellent.
She stabbed the skoupuma fang into the Dowager’s thin, pale arm, shoving it deeper and deeper until it hit bone. Then she dragged it down, past the indent of her elbow, until she’d flayed her open to the wrist.
“What is it?” Gwen asked again.
Igraine couldn’t hold her mouth shut. She threw her head back and screamed, hollow, piercing sounds like the darkling wraiths of nightmares.
Gwen crossed her arms expectantly.
More screaming—Gwen let each trill of it fill up the aching emptiness inside of her. It was fuel, better than any food she could ever hope to eat.
The Dowager started coughing, struggling to breathe between her screams. Gwen reached for her, catching her chin in her free hand.What is it,she mouthed without making a sound.
“Comm…” Igraine heaved, spewing bile all over herself. Gwen got her hand away just in time. But she nudged the Dowager with her foot—reminder. “Communication… crystal.”
“A communication crystal?” Gwen turned it over in her hand. She’d heard of them, though she’d never seen on herself. They were exceedingly rare, even in Annwyn.
