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Smiling, I straightened. “As I was saying before you had your little meet and greet, I have questions for you.”

“Fuck your questions,” he snapped. “You’re going to die.”

“Let me cut in here since it’s fucking cold and it stinks,” Kieran interjected. “You’re going to threaten us. We’re going to laugh. You’re going to swear you won’t answer our questions, but we’ll make you.”

The Lord’s head swiveled in the wolven’s direction.

“And right now, you think there’s no point in cooperating since you know you’re not walking out of here,” Kieran went on. “But what hasn’t sunk in yet is that there is a difference between dying and a very long, drawn-out, and painful death.”

Devries’ nostrils flared as his gaze darted between us.

“And if I have to stay down here longer than necessary? I can promise you will beg for death,” Kieran continued. “You have a choice.”

“He speaks the truth,” I said, my eyes narrowing on Devries. “I want to know where they’re keeping Prince Malik.”

“I know nothing about Prince Malik,” he growled, his arms flexing.

“But you told everyone on the journey here you were well connected with the Crown,” Kieran said.

Vamprys were strong—strong enough to break the ropes holding him in place.

I sighed. “He’s going to choose unwisely.”

The bindings snapped, and the vampry came out of the chair faster than a mortal could move.

But not faster than a wolven.

Kieran caught him by the shoulders, holding the vampry back. “Why do they always do this?” he asked as his chin dipped.

“Maybe they think it’s fun,” I mused.

“It’s not.” A growl rumbled up from Kieran’s chest as his nostrils flattened and the skin of his features thinned. The hand on the Ascended shoulders lengthened, the nails growing and sharpening, plunging deep into the vampry’s shoulder.

The Lord howled as Kieran clawed through flesh and muscle. He threw Devries to the cold, stone floor, sending him skidding back into a hunk of meat. “You’re a…” He gasped, clutching his mangled shoulder. “Wolven.”

“You can call me that.” Kieran inhaled deeply, reining himself back in. His skin filled out, his hand returning to its normal size. Blood and tissue dripped from his fingertips. “Or you can call me death. Whichever you’d prefer.”

I glanced at him. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day to say that.”

Kieran lifted a bloody middle finger.

“How about I call you a filthy dog?” Devries retorted.

I snapped forward, bringing my boot down on his ruined shoulder. The Lord screamed. “That was rude.” I kept pressing. “Apologize.”

“Fuck you.”

“Apologize.” I dug my foot in, cracking bone. “You have a hell of a lot more bones to go.”

He swung with his other hand, reaching for my legs I supposed, but I wasn’t sure what he thought that would accomplish. Kieran easily caught his arm, snapping it back and cracking the bone in the process. Devries howled, kicking his foot at Kieran as he jerked upright, fangs bared as he went for my thigh.

I sighed.

This continued for a while, proving that the Lord was not all that wise. Both legs were broken when he finally stopped trying to bite us. So was his left arm. The right hung on for dear life. He was a messy heap of flesh and bone, leaking all over the floor.

Cleanup would be a bitch.

“Tell me where Prince Malik is being kept,” I said for what had to be the hundredth time.

“There is no kept Prince,” the vampry moaned, and that was, at least an improvement over telling me to go fuck myself.

I kicked him in the chest, knocking him flat on his back.

“Motherfucker.” Devries groaned.

“Where is he being held?” I repeated.

“Nowhere,” the vampry roared, spitting blood and saliva.

Fury erupted. Moving toward him, I raised my leg, but Kieran grabbed my arm, stopping me before I brought my boot down on the vampry’s head.

“You level?” Kieran asked.

Inhaling deeply, I stepped back and nodded. I didn’t even know what level meant at the moment. “Okay. Moving on, Devries. I want you to tell me about the Maiden.”

The Lord moaned, rolling onto his side.

“Why is she important to the Blood Crown?”

“She’s Chosen,” the vampry groaned. “By the Queen. By the gods.”

Kieran looked over at me.

“You forget who you’re speaking to,” I advised. “We know the gods have Chosen no one, least of all a mortal girl.”

“She is Chosen, you fool. The bringer of a new era,” he gasped, pale features contorting in pain. “And you are a fool.”

“I think he wants to die,” Kieran remarked, his brow raised.

One black eye opened and fixed on me. “I…I remember when you wanted to die. When…when you begged for it.”

My chest lurched.

Kieran’s head whipped back to the vampry. “What did you say?”

“He doesn’t recognize me. Do you? Of course, not.” Lord Devries’ laugh was bloody and wet. “You were out of it, screaming and biting at the air one second…”