Page 66 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

Valen’s dark eyes were like pure midnight. Dangerous. Terrified. “Elise, Malin, they’re missing. So is Ari.”

For a few breaths I could imagine what the king looked like as a cursed beast. He seemed ready to crack open ribs with his bare hands.

“Valen, they are likely deep in the trees,” Herja tried to console.

I lifted my gaze to Hagen and knew he did not feel the same.

“You don’t believe that,” I snapped. “You’ve not seen them, have you? They’re missing.”

The color left Herja’s cheeks. She knew the truth but was trying to deny it.

“Where is my damn wife?” Valen raged and the earth responded. A deep crack splintered through the grove, causing a few of his own warriors to run for it before they were dropped into the ground.

Fear was a weight I could not bear.

The trees were empty. At my sides, I clenched and unclenched my fists. No one needed to tell me the truth. Malin wasn’t there. Someone—something—had targeted the two queens and taken the man we’d placed to defend them.

My wife, my bleeding soul was gone.

I did not care what it took, I did not care whose blood spilled, I would tear every piece of this kingdom apart until Malin was back in my arms. Alive.

“Bring the fae who survived,” I snarled. “I have questions they will answer.”

It took no time for the Kryv and Valen’s folk to arrange what was left of the small attack party in a line.

I approached a thick-necked troll. The fae had leathery skin, a bulbous nose, and ears too heavy to stand at a point, so they drooped over at the tips. Fear deepened the sickly yellow of his eyes as horrid imaginings spilled from his tiny brain into my thoughts. The sight of me made him wonder if I’d crack his bones one by one, if I’d cut off the tips of his ears, or if I’d force him to eat his own fingers.

A beautiful massacre I could work with.

Shadows coiled around each fae until they gasped and retched. But they couldn’t move, and I had no time for cowards fleeing before my questions were answered.

“I will take this end,” Valen said. He spun one bloodied axe in his grip.

“Do your worst, King. I look forward to it.” I glanced at the troll again. He winced when I tightened the shadows around his throat. “We, my friend, have a great deal to speak about.”

A sick crack echoed in the forest. The troll’s chest spewed blood over his pale tunic from the gash I’d sliced across his chest. Shadows took on the role of knives and mallets, battering and slicing the troll until he screamed.

I made a fist. His legs buckled as his knees bent the wrong direction, knocking him to the ground in a sweaty, gasping heap.

“I beg of you, cease.” His gruff voice trembled.

“Where would your folk take two women and a Night Folk fae?”

“I-I-I don’t—” He roared his agony when one elbow twisted.

“Your fear is delightful. Who knew someone could fear broken bones so fiercely?”

The troll’s eyes widened to the understanding of what my power would do. “I don’t know. But . . . but there are many forest folk that could’ve lured her to . . . to the center.”

“The center?”

A garbled scream interrupted our interrogation. Valen cracked his neck side to side, drawing in a breath of relief through his nose. The horned fae at his feet had an open gash splitting his wide face in two.

The king sneered with a delirious sort of violence at the next man in line. A skydguard who’d managed to survive.

“Care to try?” His voice was low, dark. It was perfectly wicked. Valen pointed his axe at the dead fae on the ground. “He had the wrong answer. Now, where is my wife?”

I glared down at my troll. “We’re losing patience. This center, where is it?”