Page 107

“Craven.” Our luck had changed. I reached for my dagger.

“For fuck’s sake,” Reaver shouted, tossing the tarp aside as he rose…completely naked. He jumped from the wagon, landing in a crouch. “I got this.”

“What does he think he’s going to do buck-ass na—?” Kieran bit off as sparks of light erupted all over Reaver, and he shifted into his draken form. “Well, okay, he’s going to do that.”

A shrill wail of a Craven pierced the silence, and then a funnel of silvery-white fire lit up the night, cutting through the darkness and the gathering Craven.

Casteel

Icy water splashed over my head, sending a painful shockwave through me as I jackknifed off my side. Eyes flying open, I dragged in air, even as my lungs locked from the cold drenching my skin.

“He’s awake now,” came the dry voice.

“Took long enough,” a softer, throatier voice replied. I tensed, recognizing that voice. The annoyance.

The Blood Queen.

Feeling the sharpened bone behind my back, I blinked away the cascading water and waited…and waited for my vision to make sense of the shapes in front of me. To pull them into focus.

Callum knelt beside me, a bucket by his knee. His features were still blurry, but I could see the disgust in the curl of his lip. “He’s not looking too well, Your Majesty.”

My attention shifted to who waited behind him. The Blood Queen stood tall and straight, the thin material of her midnight gown clinging to her narrow hips. I had to blink again because I was almost positive upon first glance that she wore no top. I was wrong. Sort of. The bodice of the gown was cleaved in two, the thicker panels of material held together by sheer lace only covering the fullest parts of her breasts. Disgust filled my gut.

“He stinks,” Isbeth replied.

“Fuck off,” I muttered, righting myself enough and slipping my right hand to my hip, close to the bone.

“I would love to do just that.” Her head tilted, and the hair piled on top glinted a deep auburn in the firelight. Almost like Poppy’s. Almost. “However, it’s become highly apparent that you’ve refused to bathe or eat.”

Eat? When had food been brought in? I saw a plate then, several feet from me. There was a hunk of cheese and some stale bread on it. I had no idea when that had arrived.

From the cloud of my thoughts, what Poppy had told me in the dream broke free. I loosened my jaw, wincing. The son of a bitch ached. My whole face did. Teeth. Fangs. They throbbed as my gaze focused on the Queen. My time with Poppy in the cavern was the only time the need had vanished—the only time I felt like myself.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said, latching onto a moment of clarity. “About what I saw in Oak Ambler.”

Isbeth raised a brow.

I forced a painful, dry swallow. “A large gray cat kept in a cage.”

Her nostrils flared on a sharp inhale, and she took a step forward. “When did you see that?”

“Oh, you know,”—I leaned forward slightly—“when I was touring Castle Redrock.”

“And was anyone else sightseeing with you?”

“Maybe.” I watched her. “Why the fuck do you have a cat caged? Is that one of your…pets?”

Her blood-red lips twisted into a thin smile. “Not my favorite. That would be you.”

“Honored,” I growled, and the smile deepened. “The cat didn’t look like he was doing too well.”

“The cat is fine.”

The edges of my fingers brushed the bone. “But it must be old. If it’s the same one Poppy spoke of—the one she saw as a child.”

Isbeth went completely still.

“She once told me she saw it under Wayfair Castle.”

“Penellaphe was a curious child.”

“You still have it?”

Her stare fixed on me. “He’s right where he was when Penellaphe saw him all those years ago,” she said, and it took everything in me not to smile at the savage rush of satisfaction I felt. “But he may be hungry. Perhaps I will feed him the next finger I take.”

“Why don’t you come take it now? Not your golden boy.”

Callum frowned. “I am not a boy.”

“Or one of your Handmaidens,” I continued, holding her stare. “Or are you too afraid? Too weak?”

Isbeth tipped her head back, laughing. “Afraid? Of you? The only thing about you that frightens me is your stench.”

“So you say,” I murmured. “But I know the truth. Everyone here does. Your courage comes from keeping those stronger than you in chains.”

Her laughter ceased. “You think you’re stronger than me?”

“Fuck, yeah.” I smiled then, closing my hand around the bone. “I am, after all, my mother’s son.”

Isbeth stared down at me and then shot forward, just like I knew she would because some things never changed. Her fragile ego was one of them.

I wrenched the bone out from behind my back, thrusting it up as her hand closed around my throat, just above the shadowstone band.