skin, made the blood drain from my face. Numb, I slowly slouched back into the chair.
“Good girl,” Lloyd murmured, the threat lingering in his eyes, in the dangerous twist of his lips. “Now, to pay your mother’s arrears, to save her life from addiction and the debt hounds on her heels, I struck a bargain: my assistance for her thirdborn child.”
I blinked back at him, brain struggling to process all of it, never mind that. “W-what? Who are you—Rumpelstiltskin?”
Fae made deals like that, bartering tricks for children, but I’d never heard of a warlock doing it. And I…
I was the thirdborn.
She…
She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t have made that deal.
“Her debt necessitated the ultimate price, I’m afraid,” Lloyd mused, peering down his nose at me and tapping his wand against his palm. “She agreed. I saved her. Paid her debts, got her healthy. Wooed her. And then she ran off with your father… Went west and made a little family of her own.” His cheek twitched, and he glared down at his wand, wringing it like he was throttling someone’s throat instead. “Had two brats, then accidentally fell pregnant with you. And you were an accident, kitten.” His eyes snapped to mine, cruel and cold. “She had always dreamed of a large family, but she swore to me that she planned to sterilize herself when I came calling.”
“You’re a liar,” I hissed, ignoring the burn of unshed tears, unable to get anything out louder than a whisper. Lloyd pursed his thin lips, then tsked, tsked, tsked, like I was that little girl again.
“Oh, darling, no.” He then offered what he must have thought was a kind smile, but it only made the churn of my stomach more violent. I pressed against my belly, swallowing down a rush of bile, and Lloyd’s eyes glittered like he enjoyed the show. “Unfortunately for Mellony, she loved you before you were born. Refused to give you up… Rather a nasty way to perish, in childbirth. So rare for a witch to die of such a human cause, no?”
He settled back in his chair, his throne, and looked down on me like he had just won something. Meanwhile, my mind still couldn’t put two and two together, couldn’t process the information overload—couldn’t accept a damn thing.
But my heart knew.
My heart sensed a cruel honesty from the man before me, and accepting that sent another rush of bile flooding up my throat, my mouth breaking out in the pre-vomit sweats.
This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. It’s just a dream.
It wasn’t.
Dreams never hurt like this. Dreams were temporary. I always woke up. Always.
No waking from this nightmare.
“Your father refused to give you up,” Lloyd mused with a sneer and a shake of his head. “He wouldn’t honor the deal. So… I had to, uh, collect accordingly.”
I should have taken Dad at his word, but I wrote most of it off. Visceral as a jagged knife, the guilt stabbed into my heart now, twisting so I really knew it was there. I should have believed him. Everything. I should have—
“But that’s a story for another day.” Lloyd set his wand on the desk, then wove his hands together and leaned forward, all business again. “Now, kitten, back to my original question. Do you want to leave this place?”
I sucked in my cheeks, fighting the spike of adrenaline, the pinch of excitement, at the thought of walking out of Xargi Penitentiary. Of course I wanted out. I wasn’t a criminal. I didn’t belong here and I never would.
“Not with you,” I choked, tears battering at me with a vengeance. It hurt to say—hurt to deny freedom. But it wasn’t freedom. What Lloyd Guthrie intended to offer me, even if he hadn’t spelled it out in the exact terms, was still a prison, still a cage.
A gilded cage.
Never.
Xargi’s warden chuckled coolly, that incredulous expression suggesting he couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you sure? Prison is worse than my company? You barely know me.”
“I know enough.” Even if I hadn’t been able to dig up much dirt on a warlock who probably paid people to keep his skeletons buried deep, this little chat was enough to send me sprinting in the opposite direction.
“Your mother and I made a blood deal,” he stated, enunciating each word like he was trying to rein in his temper. “Contractually, you’re mine.” Another surge of sick, this time leaving a vomit-stamp at the back of my throat. Lloyd just sniffed again and fidgeted with his cuffs, the vision