feet and glanced around, well aware that she was the focus of attention.
What was going on? Why had she been summoned?
She bowed low. “My queen,” she said with reverence.
“Indeed.” Maeve’s smile was hungry. “I wanted to commend you on an excellent choice of victim,” she said, her tone gloating. A servant brought her a goblet brimming with a golden liquid. Rania guessed it was mead. Maeve toasted her and sipped. “Here’s to a brilliant elimination. I’m curious to see who you choose next.”
Next? Rania’s heart chilled. Had Hadrian been right? Was Maeve breaking her word?
She had to know.
“I chose the Pyr Hadrian as my thirteenth victim,” Rania reminded the Dark Queen. “He’s dead, so our wager is complete.” She held up her wrist, displaying the red string that was still knotted there. “This should be gone.”
“Not quite yet.” Maeve laughed at Rania’s obvious surprise. “You didn’t kill Hadrian MacEwan. I did. As a result, his death doesn’t count as your victory.”
“I gave him the kiss of death,” Rania insisted.
“But it didn’t kill him. I did.” Maeve’s gaze hardened. “You lose. Choose another victim.”
Rania feared that she should have expected this. She should have believed Hadrian and anticipated that the Dark Queen would wriggle out of keeping her end of the bargain on a technicality.
She felt foolish for trusting Maeve to keep the spirit of their deal.
And even more foolish for not taking Hadrian’s warning. He’d been right, not just about Maeve but about Rania learning the truth when she didn’t have a dragon shifter to defend her anymore.
It was interesting that she was so certain Hadrian would have defended her.
“That isn’t our agreement,” Rania said, keeping her tone polite but firm. “I’ve made thirteen assassinations for you. You should free me and my brothers...”
“You’ve made twelve assassinations,” the Dark Queen corrected, then drained her chalice of mead. “Choose another victim, and make it quick. This has already gone on too long.”
“You acknowledge twelve kills,” Rania said, trying to negotiate. “You could free my brothers now, as a gesture of goodwill.”
Maeve laughed again. “I don’t have to do anything for goodwill,” she snarled. “You’re in my thrall until you fulfill our bargain.”
“I can’t give another kiss of death. I only had the ability to give thirteen.”
“Oops.” Maeve widened her eyes in mock alarm. “Then you’ll have to make your kills the old-fashioned way.” She was clearly unsympathetic to Rania’s plight. Rania had the definite sense that the Dark Queen had planned their bargain to end this way.
She’d said ‘kills’, plural. The next assassination wasn’t going to end it either. Rania was trapped forever.
She should have listened to Hadrian!
“Choose your next victim,” Maeve commanded.
“And you’ll beat me to the kill, once again,” Rania accused, forgetting herself in her anger. “You’ll prolong this deal forever!”
Maeve smiled and held out her chalice so a minion could refill it. “What if I do? It’s useful to have a pet assassin.”
Rania folded her arms across her chest. “But there’s no point. If you’re never going to release me, there’s nothing to be gained by serving you.”
Maeve gave her a smile that chilled her to her marrow. “Isn’t there?” she murmured as she leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “I suggest you get to work or we’ll start dining on swan every night.”
There was a clatter of chains and a familiar cry filled the court. Rania spun to see a golden cage on a cart being rolled to the middle of the court. Three swans were locked inside it, most of them flapping and calling. Rania’s heart sank with the conviction that they were her brothers. Were her other nine brothers free or already dead? The Fae laughed and poked at the birds as the cage passed, more than one pulling a feather as a souvenir.
“You have no right!” Rania cried, turning on Maeve. “They should be free! I kept my promise!”
“Not quite yet,” the Dark Queen insisted and sipped her mead. She lounged on her throne, smug in her triumph. “Which of the Pyr will you eliminate next?”
Rania was trapped. She knew it, but she didn’t like it. If there was a way out, she didn’t know what it was—and she couldn’t risk the survival of her brothers while she plotted against Maeve. Could she even find her remaining brothers before the Dark Queen did.
Her heart sank with the realization that she probably would have to kill a Pyr to complete her wager with Maeve.
Alasdair had volunteered.
She couldn’t name him, though. Not only did she need to keep