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The Dowager’s head lolled to the side. Gwen sighed and motioned the healer forward. Stood by impatiently while she patched Igraine up, just enough to keep her conscious. To stall the skoupuma’s poison.For now.
“Who are you communicating with?” Gwen asked as soon as Igraine could hold her head up again.
Her blue eyes were mutinous now. Her hands tugged uselessly at the restraints. Even if she had her water power, Gwen would shift and rip out her throat before she got a chance to use it.
For Arthur, the betrothed she’d lost.
For Parys, the unexpected friend she’d found.
He’d been carrying a book. It waited on the armchair where he’d sat during their many shared dinners. It’s significance… she’d think about it later. When her composure wasn’t an inch away from shattering.
The others thought her control was inexhaustible.
But she was as tired as they were.
The only difference was what fueled her.
This—the torture—it was everything she needed in that moment. For all the ones that had come before, and to give her the strength for what would come after.
Igraine hadn’t answered.
Gwen raised the skoupuma fang.
The Dowager’s reaction was immediate. She grimaced so violently, she almost upended the heavy chair in which she was restrained. Satisfaction richer than any sauce or wine flowed through Gwen’s body.
“The human realm,” Igraine choked out.
Gwen’s heart skipped a beat, but her voice was even. “Veyka.”
Igraine’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
There was no confusion between them. It was not Veyka she communicated with… it was Veyka she plotted against.
“What are you planning for Veyka?”
The smile sank deeper into the Dowager’s face. Gave her strength, resolve—Gwen recognized it immediately.
Knew she would not get an answer from her. Not again. Not for a while.
Gwen tilted the skoupuma fang so the noxious poison glinted, reflecting the first rays of dawn as they peeked over the mountains surrounding the Effren Valley.
The light reflected in the Dowager’s eyes. The fear there was tiny now, no more than a speck. Gwen would enjoy watching it grow. Punishing her.
For Arthur. For Charis and Carly. For Veyka. For Parys.
She drove the skoupuma fang deep into the Dowager’s gut.
82
ARRAN
Two days of darkness, without even the faerie lights to mark our way.
Isolde led us, white flames flickering constantly at her fingertips. In the rear, Lyrena and Cyara alternated lighting and carrying a torch. Those of us in the middle had to rely on our sharp fae eyesight to navigate over the uneven ground. These tunnels were not used by the faeries. They were an evacuation route.
Percival stumbled along just in front of me, Veyka’s dagger still tucked in his belt. I’d argued for leaving him imprisoned with Osheen and the faeries. My mate had insisted we might need his help when we actually reached the sacred isle.
It would not matter, I told myself. We would not be wasting time looking for a wayward fae lord, no matter what we’d agreed to with Percival. As soon as we had answers, we must return to Annwyn. There was no telling what had happened there in the nearly two months we’d been away.
