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“My father can.” I started backing up, my smile spreading. “But he won’t.”
Kieran stiffened. “Cas.”
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I have a plan.”
“But that does worry me.”
I laughed, the sound traveling down the hall. “Keep watch over her.”
Leaving Kieran to do just that, I made my way to the main floor of the keep. I found Magda and Elijah in his study.
The bearded Descenter looked up from the ledgers piled on his desk. “Not sure if you realize this or not, but you’re half-undressed.”
“And it appears as if you’ve been stabbed.” Magda’s hand fluttered to her belly. “In the chest.”
“I’m fine, but speaking of clothing, is it possible for you to find something that would fit Penellaphe?”
Magda frowned as she rose from her chair. “Is the clothing I brought before unable to be laundered?”
My lips pursed. “That would be a no.”
“Okay.” She drew out the word. “Do you need clothing?”
“Likely, but that can wait. First, can you have hot water sent to my chambers? Kieran is there with her, and she will remain there.”
“Oh, man,” Elijah murmured while Magda nodded.
“And bloodstone.” I looked at Elijah. “I’m going to need bloodstone. Lots of it.”
“You’re going down to the cells?” Elijah asked.
“No,” I said. “I want them brought to the Great Hall.”
He stood, rubbing his chin through his beard. “Oh, man, oh, man.”
I smiled.
It didn’t take long to wrangle a couple dozen bloodstone stakes. They’d been placed in a canvas bag and dropped in the center of the Great Hall, the space all had to pass through to enter the dining hall. It was empty now except for Delano, the doors closed on either end.
“You feeling up to this?” I asked him as I waited.
Delano nodded, the set of his jaw hard. There was nothing boyish about his features. “I’m more than feeling up to this.”
“Good.” I glanced at him. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“So am I.” A quick grin appeared. “I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for her. She saved my life, Cas, and she didn’t have to,” he said, and I had a feeling that was why he was so willing to carry this out. “I owe her. You know what that means.”
I did know what it meant when a wolven made that pledge. It was damn near an unbreakable oath. He would guard her with his life. Even against me, if it came to it.
I glanced at the door, hearing footsteps. I bent, reaching into the canvas. My fingers curled around a smooth bloodstone spike. “You never have to worry about me harming her, Delano.”
“I know,” he said, stretching his neck from side to side. “That I know.”
The door opened, and a trembling mortal was escorted inside.
One who had been given a second chance to live out his life with his wife and child.
He’d thrown that away.
Naill and Elijah let go of Mr. Tulis. The man staggered forward, his hands not bound but clasped. His wide, frightened eyes were unfocused. “I’m sorry—”
“You’re not here to apologize. We are past that.” I went to where he stood, each step slow and measured. “She had nothing to do with what happened to your other children, nor did she have anything to do with the Rite.”
“She is the Maiden—”
I caught him by the throat, silencing him. “Her name is Penellaphe Balfour. You should know the name of the person who felt sorrow for you and your family. You should know the name of the one you plotted to kill.” I lifted him to the tips of his toes. “And you should know the name of the one I told you not to harm.”
His eyes bulged. “I-I’m—”
“No.” I tightened my grip. “You threw away your life, not that of your wife or son. Let that be your last thought as you leave this realm.”
With the spike in my other hand, I drove it through his chest, the bloodstone slicing through mortal tissue and bone like warm butter. His death wasn’t instantaneous—I left the spike in, after all—but it was quicker than he deserved. He was dead before I impaled him to the wall.
They brought the next one in. Ivan. He already knew what was coming. Didn’t say a word. He didn’t beg or fight, and he, too, ended up on the wall. The rest were brought in, one after another. Wolven. Atlantian. Mortal. Some fought, swinging fists, baring fangs, and shifting into their wolven forms. Some pleaded, dropping to their knees. Some were already dead, having been dealt with during the attack. They all ended up the same. A spike to the chest or head and hanging on the wall.
I showed them more kindness than they’d shown Poppy. Those alive all died either immediately or within minutes, and I didn’t feel a fucking ounce of remorse. None of them did. All they felt was regret for the life they’d forfeited: theirs.
