Page 23

Thea

I was awakened by a scream. A woman’s sickening wail of agony that spiraled on and on into the night like a herald of death.

I sprang off the bed, kicking back the covers, and did not bother with shoes or even with throwing a robe over my nightgown before I flung the bedroom door open and lunged into the corridor.

All the windows were shuttered, the only light the anxious flicker of the tapers on the candelabras as I stumbled past them in my shaky, disoriented state. My panic deepened as I watched the golden band of light, leaking out of a half-opened door at the end of the hallway, grow closer. I found myself slowing down, my feet refusing to take me any further no matter how hard I pushed them.

Again I had the crawling sense of being watched, being haunted by something much greater than my comprehension. The familiar prickle of my magic crept over the back of my neck, my skin breaking out in gooseflesh. No premonition accompanied it this time, only a terrible, boundless sense of dread that made me freeze by the door.

The cries grew louder, more hysteric. There was shouting and grunting too, vague noises of struggle.

Then I heard him. Hector. “Get your fucking hands off me,” he was growling, and my fear for him grew greater than my fear for myself. With a choked gasp, I pushed the door fully open and staggered into the room.

It was almost identical to Hector’s. Dark wood. A wide window hung with heavy draperies. A massive fireplace crackling tirelessly in a corner. And a large, four-poster bed. A bed with crisp white sheets drenched almost entirely in blood.

There was blood everywhere . Splattered across the canopy, the headboard, dribbling down the edges of the mattress, and shining along the wooden bedposts. It had spread over the carpet too, thick and red like spilled wine.

The smell was unbearable. Rust and iron and decay.

Camilla’s dead body lay in the middle of the crimson puddle with her head pressed against the matted-down pillow, the fabric so soaked it looked lacquered. Her skin was the color of ash, her eyes white as snow, her mouth hanging open in an eternal howl of rage.

A scream I didn’t let out scraped the back of my throat. I took another step. The firelight caught the viscid pulp of her shredded neck. No, not shredded. Severed. The cut was precise, straight, done by a blade.

A vampire hunter’s blade, I realized, my stomach clenching in terror. Like the one from my visions.

I tasted bile and had to clamp a hand over my mouth as I gazed around inanely, unable to grasp the full horror of what was happening.

Tieran was kneeling on the floor next to the bed, wailing and tearing through his hair. His hands were smeared up to the elbows with blood, and Roan was fighting tooth and nail to wrench him from the pool of gore. Dahlia, whose scream I must have heard earlier, was sobbing inconsolably in a corner with an ashen-faced Arawn running his hands up and down her shaking arms. Next to them, Alexandria had her face buried in Lance’s heaving chest, and Espen… Espen was holding Hector by the throat.

When Hector’s gaze connected with mine, a fuse lit up in my brain. “What are you doing? Get away from him!” I howled, lunging toward them only for a fist to curl into my hair and pull me back violently.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Collette’s full height unfurling, rising behind me like a wraith. Her serpent’s hiss reverberated against my ear, and sheer, death-cold fright swept through me, forcing me still.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Hector roared, and the room crumbled.

The walls shuddered, and the floor erupted, making us all stumble in different directions. Paintings fell off their hinges, entire shelves collapsed, vases flew in the air, and crystals exploded into a dazzle of fractured color.

It was only a second before Hector managed to escape Espen’s hold and come to shield me from the shower of glass, his arms forming an impenetrable halo over my head.

“What—” I panted, desperately trying to remember how to speak through the magnitude of my astonishment.

Camilla was dead.

Someone within these walls had killed her, and the Castle had done nothing to stop it.

I could not believe it.

It was all too horrible and happening too fast for my mind to process, much less find any reason in it. And this act, no matter how brutal, was reasonable—calculated. Because after the events of last night, of course everyone would think that Hector was the one who did this to her.

Arawn was right. That drop of poison was never meant to harm me. It was to give Hector motive.

As the uproar quieted down, Hector lowered his hands, and my eyes flew back to Camila’s severed head, the image of which I knew would haunt me for the rest of my days.

“How could this have happened?” I whispered, feeling bleary and bloodshot, my voice so diminished I thought no one heard me.

But Espen surged forward, dashing over the carpet of shattered glass. “Ask your damned husband!”

Hector shoved me behind him, his hand twisting at his back to keep me close. “For the hundredth time, I did not do this.”

Espen’s face contorted in half rage, half agony. “You threatened her. You threatened all of us.” The words were meant to sound harsh, but a sob choked them as his gaze reconnected with his sister’s dead body.

“I understand better than anyone the anguish of such loss,” said Hector, and although I couldn’t see his face, I heard the naked despair in his voice. “I wouldn’t have brought this pain upon you out of mere suspicion. Camilla never came forward. And even if she had, I would have brought her before the king, not slain her in her bed.”

Espen seethed, his lips curling into a snarl. “You spoke of death. We all heard you.”

“Yes, I did,” admitted Hector solemnly. “But my wife will not have a killer for a husband, and I will not have my pride over her.”

From the edge of my vision, I saw Arawn prowling closer as if he were afraid that any sudden movement could set everything off. “Espen,” he ventured warily. “You know Hector is not capable of such savagery. He might’ve made certain threats in the heat of the moment—”

“He meant them,” Espen bristled, his whole body shaking. His clenched fists at his side were dripping blood.

Hector didn’t even try to defend himself. He would not lie. But maybe I could lie for him. Maybe if I told them that Hector had spent the night taking care of me—

“Father,” Roan intervened before I could. “Please, let’s take a moment and try to understand what has happened here.”

“There is nothing to understand,” Espen growled. “Who else amongst us would have acted so despicably?”

“I don’t know,” spat Hector. “Maybe the same person who poisoned Thea.”

Collette’s icy eyes flickered like silver flames. “Let’s not—”

“Let’s not what, Collette?” Hector cut her off, his voice steeped in venom. “Camilla never confessed, and I would never murder someone out of mere suspicion. This,” Hector hissed, pointing at the blood-bathed bed, “gives me no justice.” He dashed past Espen and faced Alexandria. I got a glimpse of the crazed smile that split his face, and with a sinking heart, I realized exactly what he was about to say. After all, nearly everyone in this room had greater motives than him. “But you’re officially next in line, aren’t you, Alexandria? And Dahlia, now that Camilla is out of the picture, maybe Sybella will finally allow you to marry Dain. Oh, and Roan?” He let out a low, vicious laugh. “Congratulations. Your husband is free.”

Tieran launched to his feet, beating a bloodied fist against his chest. “Have you any idea the kind of torment I will go through—”

“Exactly,” Hector said sharply. “You will go through . You will survive, and you will become stronger for it. You will be clean of venom for the first time in your second life. So don’t tell me I’m the only one with motive here. In fact, for all I know, whoever did this poisoned Thea just to make me look more guilty.”

Everyone seemed to draw in a sharp breath at the same time, their faces growing as colorless and haunted as my own felt.

“This is madness,” Arawn muttered, his eyes lifting as if in inward prayer.

A sudden knock struck from deep within the Castle’s turnings, the sound vibrating at our feet.

“No, it’s not,” Roan gritted out. “But it’s about to become.”