with anger.
"The golden weredragon?" he asked her. "Gloriae the Gilded?"
The woman nodded. "When the dragons flew upon this city, it was the golden one who torched my home. The weredragon Gloriae killed my brothers. She killed my husband. Cut my head from my body, my lord. Place her head upon me and make me a mimic. Let the others hurt me. I will do this to make Gloriae suffer."
Dies Irae approached her and examined her in the torchlight. Among the chained women, this one was the fairest. Her hair was black satin, hanging down to her chin. Her eyes were pools of midnight. She looked older than the others—a woman, while the others were mere girls. Her body was lithe and strong, decorated with several knife scars. This was no peasant.
"Who were your brothers?" he asked her, narrowing his eyes. "Who was your husband?"
She raised her chin. "Blood Wolves," she said, eyes spiteful. "Will you kill me for that? I think not. Not if you want my body fresh for your dear Gloriae."
Dies Irae nodded, eyebrows raised, and scratched his chin. "Common thieves, you mean."
She spat onto the floor. "Blood Wolves are no common thugs. We are the shadows in the night. We are the daggers in the alley. We are the terror that strikes in darkness."
Dies Irae ran his fingers along her chest, tracing a scar. It ran from her left collarbone, between her breasts, and to her bottom right rib. He touched her hip, and traced the length of a second scar, which ran down her thigh. She stared back at him, chin raised, lips tight.
"Terror in darkness, you say." He pursed his lips. "Shadows in the night. Perhaps I could find another use for you."
She gritted her teeth. "From the way your fingers touch me, I know how you would use me. I have no interest in serving you so, great emperor. I am a Blood Wolf too. I can fight like my brothers and husband, the men the weredragons slew. I will hurt them."
Dies Irae nodded and rubbed his chin. Five women were chained here. But only four weredragons remained. Benedictus was dead, his body stolen. Yes. Yes, I can spare this one. The four others will be toys to my mimics. This one will be mine.
He unchained her wrists from the wall, and then her ankles. She moved her limbs, hissed, and gritted her teeth. She rubbed the raw flesh, and sweat beaded on her brow. A snarl found her lips. Dies Irae couldn't help but smile. This one was feral. A wolf indeed.
"What is your name?"
"Umbra," she said and glared.
He grabbed her wrist. "Come with me."
She pulled her wrist free and bared her teeth at him. "I will walk. You will not drag me."
Yes. Yes, I like this one.
They left the dungeons, climbed the stairwell, and walked across the crumbling halls of Flammis Palace. Everywhere were strewn bricks, stains of ash, smeared blood, and guards with sallow eyes. Those eyes lit up when Umbra walked by, still nude. Umbra stared back at them, chin raised, as if challenging them to speak. Her eyes said, Make a move, and I'll tear out your throats.
He led her upstairs and into his bed chamber. The nightshades, griffins, and dragons had destroyed half the palace, but this room remained untouched. It was a large chamber, large enough to house a dragon. Golden tapestries covered his walls. His bed was ten feet wide, made of pure gold inlaid with diamonds. His tables, chairs, and vases were gilded and shone with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. Priceless swords of steel and jewels hung everywhere.
"Like gold, do we?" Umbra asked. Her eyes darted from gemstone to gemstone. They lit up like the eyes of a starving man who stumbled upon a feast. She reached toward a jewelled dagger which lay on a giltwood table.
Dies Irae caught her wrist. "Do not touch anything. You will have gold too, if you earn it."
She looked up at him. A crooked smile touched her lips. "And how do I earn it, my lord?"
He twisted her wrist and pulled her close. "I will show you."
She spat in his face. "Let me go. My husband hasn't been dead a moon."
He slapped her face. He'd wanted to knock her down, but she stayed standing... and punched him.
Her fist hit his cheek, and he fell. White light blinded him. He blinked and struggled to rise, but Umbra pressed her foot against his chest, pinning him down. She grabbed the dagger,