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Shoving off the wall, he continued the long, arduous walk to his room. He halted mid-step, his weight shifting forwardand nearly sending him toppling over himself as he looked down the hallway.

Each and every torch lining the hallway to his room had been turned upside down, the eternal flames crawling over the torches as the fire attempted to right itself.

“What in the Gods…” he trailed off, taking another step forward.

His pace quickened.

On and on he went, his body shuddering with each inverted torch. I kept to the shadows, flipping a single golden coin in my hand. On that coin, an inverted torch had been etched.

It was the same coin I pressed into the eyes of the dead, the same kind that I often handed to the ferryman to deliver a soul to the Void safely.

A life ended.

A flame extinguished.

Haakon turned another corner in the hallways, the lights of the inverted flames casting shadows through the hall as I crept behind him. The only sound of my stalking was the noise of that coin flipping over and over through the air.

He spun, searching for me. The shadows clung to me, blending me into the darkness. I raised my hand, sending those shadows prowling through the hallway.

They smothered the flames, each one winking out in a procession as Haakon spun forward suddenly. He ran, stumbling over his own feet as the torches close to me went dark. The darkness traveled in a line up the hallway. He couldn’t run fast enough to escape the total blackness that filled Tar Mesa.

It overtook his path to his room. His fingers fumbled with the keys to his door as he darted glances over his shoulder.I summoned the darkness to my fingertips, circling them and stepping into the shadow realm as time slowed for me. He lingered at the door as I stepped out of the shadows on the other side, catching it with my palm when it crashed open. He tore it away from me, slamming it closed and locking it from the inside as he backed away slowly.

His lungs heaved from his panic—not from exertion. A disbelieving chuckle escaped him as he realized he’d made it to what he presumed to be the safety of his room. It wasn’t often that members of Mab’s court violated the sanctity of bedrooms without an invitation. We knew the chaos doing so could unleash upon us all.

I welcomed any to try to get to me in my sleep.

I stepped out of the shadows, waving a hand to use them to create a pocket of protected darkness around his room. He panicked, lunging for the door as those shadows rose, trapping him and shoving him back.

He sprawled across the floor, raising a hand in his panic.

“Wait! Please,” he begged, his face twisting as he tried to think of a way to convince me not to take his head.

I prowled forward. “Get up,” I ordered.

I had no interest in killing a man where he lay, wanting him on his feet when I took his body and broke it. He fumbled, getting to his feet with that hand still outstretched, as if he could make me stop.

As if it were a barrier that could do anything to subvert its fate of being cut off.

“I can help you,” he said, his voice trembling as I took another step. I didn’t bother with any weapons, didn’t need them as I approached. “I can spy on the other Sidhe for you. Feed you information from Mab’s court.”

“I’ve no need for twisted lies from the mouth that spat on my mate. Do you think I take kindly to those who treat my future queen as if she is dirty?” I asked, my head tilting to the side.

My mate’s pleasure echoed down the bond, as if she could sense that I was on the verge of granting her the revenge she was due.

“Mab won’t allow this,” he said, spitting all over himself as he sputtered and backed away another step. The desk opposite the door rattled as he stepped into it, knocking the candelabra sideways until the fire licked at the top of the wood.

He scrambled to right it, standing it straight once more.

“Your first mistake was thinking Mab cares about you. You are nothing to her, just as you are nothing to my mate. Your tongue will make a lovely gift, though,” I growled.

He reached up with trembling fingers, touching them to his mouth in horror.

“Please,” he begged once more.

I struck, my hand shooting forward to collide with his face. Bone cracked beneath my fist. His mouth splayed open as teeth flew through the air. I grasped the slime of his tongue in my hand, yanking it back so suddenly that the flesh severed.

Blood poured from his mouth, and his terrorized gaze dropped to the pink muscle in my grip, at where I held the tongue I’d torn from his face.