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Lord Mazeen spoke. “I do believe our Maiden has also crossed a certain line with her Royal Guards. I don’t think her lessons were at all effective.”
Slowly, I looked to where the Lord stood. That was about when I realized the Duchess was here. I couldn’t give a fuck about her as I warned, “Speak one more word to her and you will not have a tongue.”
Lord Mazeen raised a brow. “I’m sorry?” he said, lip curling as he eyed me. I felt Poppy’s hand ease out from under mine. “Are you speaking to me?”
I was going to do a lot more than speak to him.
The soft scrape of metal over stone drew my attention to a fallen sword. To Poppy’s bloody fingers wrapping around the hilt.
I watched her rise, her hands and arms covered in blood and the knees of her gown soaked with it. She turned to him.
Lord Mazeen smirked.
I rose.
“I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon.” Lord Mazeen tilted his chin at Vikter, his smirk growing.
I could’ve stopped Poppy. Could have taken the sword from her. Gotten her away from this chamber and dealt with the fucker myself. Easily.
But I knew.
Crazy as it sounded, I knew on an instinctual level that nothing in this godsdamn realm or beyond would’ve made me stop her.
Poppy’s scream was one of such pain and anger that I flinched. It was a sound I’d heard before. I’d made it myself when I realized what Shea had done.
And maybe that was why I didn’t stop Poppy. At least one of the reasons, anyway. Because I knew what she was about to do.
I’d done it myself.
Poppy was quick, swinging the sword. The vampry lifted a hand, to do what was anyone’s guess. Whatever it was, it went horribly wrong for him. The blade sliced right through muscle and bone, taking that fucking smirk right along with his arm.
My brows shot up. That was so incredibly…violent of her.
Someone screamed as the Lord gasped. The Duchess? Tawny shouted at Poppy.
I smiled as blood gushed from the stump where the Lord’s arm should be. He stumbled back, staring down at his severed arm like the dumb fuck he was.
She brought that sword down again, chopping off the Lord’s left hand. The screaming. It was hers. My smile faded.
And Poppy…she spun, and she was glorious, arcing that sword high. She caught him at the throat. The Lord’s head went in one direction and his body in the other.
Then she struck him across the chest, the stomach, and she screamed, her rage and grief taking her, breaking her even further.
This, I couldn’t allow.
I snapped forward, folding an arm around her waist. I hauled her back against me as I clamped down on the hilt of the sword—shit, it was Vikter’s. I wrenched it free from her grip, but she fought to get back to the Lord, slamming her foot into my leg, twisting and beating on my arm.
“Stop.” I spun her away from what was left of Mazeen. I dipped my head, pressing my cheek to hers. “Gods, stop. Stop.”
Her foot snapped back, catching me in the shin and then the thigh. Hard. I grunted as she reared, causing me to stumble.
Gods.
I clamped both arms around her, dragging her toward the door, past the body of the Descenter. Guards backed away, giving us a wide berth as she screamed, her nails digging into my skin, scratching until there was a fiery sting.
Forcing her onto her knees, I held her there so she couldn’t rise. “Stop. Please. Poppy—”
Her head kicked back against my chest. The skin of her jaw and throat was flushed a bright red. Her breathing was erratic, and her screams…
My chest cracked in a way I hadn’t thought possible. I leaned over her, caging her with my body. And still, she screamed. I didn’t know how long she could keep it up before she hurt herself. And she would. Those screams… They sounded as if they were killing her.
I turned my head, pressing my mouth to her too-hot temple. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. She couldn’t hear me over the pained shrieks.
Knowing I wouldn’t be able to reach her with compulsion in this state, even if we had the privacy to do so, I did the next best thing. I eased an arm from her and reached around, pressing my fingers into points at her throat, the pulse there. I pushed. Her screaming cut off abruptly. A staggered heartbeat later, her body went limp in my arms, her head falling back.
“Poppy,” Tawny whispered behind me. “Poppy?”
I rose with her in my arms and began walking. The Duchess spoke, but all I heard were Poppy’s screams.
HER PAIN
“She’ll be okay,” Tawny said, placing Poppy’s limp hand on the bed. “She just needs time.”
“How much more time?” I demanded from where I stood by the windows.
