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“Don’t go.”

But Zylah scrunched her nose up and for a moment Saoirse thought the female might actually spit on her. Then she pivoted on her heel and was zigzagging through the tables and bodies, headed toward the door.

Saoirse stood as well, leaving a pile of coins on the table that probably added up to double what their drinks cost. She didn’t care. She knew she shouldn’t chase after Zylah. She knew she had no right to, but something in her didn’t want to let the female go like this. She wanted to explain herself, explain that she planned to take more of a stand against the laws in her country.

But it was too late to make those changes. Half-breeds like Zylah had already suffered. Half-breeds like Zylah had been killed because she’d sat around and taken the easy path, letting laws already in place dictate her life and the way she lived it.

Saoirse should have acted sooner. She should have marched to Rion’s war camp and others like it to demand better treatment. She should have delivered supplies. Something. Anything.

But they were slaves. Little more than cattle as far as those within Brónach were concerned. Cattle with a bloody history that the Fae still held them accountable for.

Saoirse stepped into the light drizzle that had started outside and scanned the dark street. She barely saw Zylah’s silhouette against the dim lanterns, but her scent was still strong enough to follow.

She pushed a male out of her way and ignored the way he hollered after her. Saoirse sprinted down the street and those she passed stared after the female in their territory. An enemy. She didn’t miss their looks of disgust.

Gods, she should have worked her way around the truth, given it a day or two. Maybe then the female would have paused to listen.

“Wait,” Saoirse called. The rain picked up, already soaking the top of her shoulders. “Please.”

Zylah spun around. “Please?” she spat. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that word?” Saoirse didn’t answer. “Did you know the slaves constantly begged for scraps? Water? Hell, a warm pair of clothes, and you have the audacity to say ‘please’?”

“I’m sorry,” Saoirse started, but Zylah cut her off again.

“I don’t care.”

“You said there was good in us that you hadn’t seen yet.”

“In warriors,” she seethed. “In those who were forced to follow orders lest they risk treason. Not for the High Lord’s sister who could have done literally anything.” Zylah took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Can you honestly say you’ve never owned a slave?”

Saoirse’s mouth went dry as she imagined the female tending to her room back in Brónach. A female who had asked Saoirse for things only to be denied them. A female she owned.

“I’ve never mistreated her.”

Zylah scoffed and the sound stung something in Saoirse’s soul. “Do you know what it’s like to wear chains? To fear a whip and those who wield it?” Saoirse shook her head. “And you never will because you are a Lady.” Zylah stepped forward. “I spent fifteen years of my life in suffocating fear and I won’t ever let it happen again. And I’d rather die than be caught associating with someone like you.”

“It was wrong, I know that now. I—” Desperation flooded through her when Zylah turned away and Saoirse reached for the female’s arm, her fingertips lightly grazing Zylah’s skin before wind tore from the night air and collided with Saoirse’s chest.

Saoirse shielded her face as she flew back a few feet and landed on her backside. Water soaked through her pants, but she didn’t try to stand as Zylah closed the distance between them and bared her teeth.

“Do not assume I’m weak just because I’m a half-breed.”

Then she was gone, leaving Saoirse in shocked silence as she sat in the middle of that dark street utterly alone.

Chapter Five

Arianna

Arianna released her trembling grip on the bloody dagger and let it clatter to the cold stone floor. She stumbled away from the bodies littering the ground, their lifeless faces upturned in silent horror. Her breathing came fast, faster as she peered into their eyes, all wide in shock as if they hadn’t expected what fate dealt them. But she couldn’t have—

Our queen, some whispered in reverence.

Murderer, others added, the two voices echoing over and over and over.

A sob tore from her chest and she stepped back again only to leap away when her foot collided with a stiff hand. They surrounded her. Still and lifeless and cold.

She startled when Rion stepped through the shadows, prowling toward her as if he couldn’t see the carnage. Or didn’t care. The whispers turned frenzied and for a moment fear seized her heart at what the voices might do to him.

Rion paid them no mind. Arianna opened her mouth to warn him about the bodies but they were suddenly gone. Vanished on a midnight wind with no trace left behind.