Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,93

Pharell tucked the purple bag into his pocket and handed Madam an even bigger bag filled with coin.

Madam Esme stepped back, her eyes glittered with greed as she pulled open the string and counted her gold.

“This is more than enough to get my business going again,” she preened, and I felt sick to my stomach. Then the queasiness turned into a burning hatred. She had to be stopped. I had to stop her. I vowed she wouldn’t leave here and hurt another woman again.

Obey me! I thought loudly at her.

Her hand clutched the gold coins, and I saw her freeze. Her brow furrowed as she heard my internal command.

She was an empath—like me—and she hid behind the fog of her own drug to not feel anything. But that also meant she could also be compelled. I wasn’t cut off from using my empath powers like before. Her command was for me to obey the king.

Silence! You will not speak a word.

Her open mouth clenched closed as I saw her about to make an attempt to compel me.

Her eyes went wide with terror, and she turned to warn the king. I had little time and little choice. My eyes flickered to my open window, and I knew I was going to go down a path of no redemption. I was going to destroy my soul, but by doing so, I would save hundreds, if not thousands of others.

Jump.

She fought my compulsion, fought the command, but my powers were honed, and I was desperate.

Madam Esme couldn’t drop the gold coins, but she clutched them even closer to her belly as she moved to the window ledge.

“What are you doing, you daft woman?” King Pharell bellowed.

Madam Esme didn’t look back as she jumped from the window. Silence followed her descent as she couldn’t even cry out. But I felt her terror as she fell.

I heard the greenhouse roof shatter, and the thoughts silenced.

I buckled, falling to my knees. I cried and felt my soul shatter like the glass of the greenhouse. My body and mind felt broken, for I had sinned. I had taken a life and felt her die.

King Pharell looked over the windowsill and cringed before looking at me in awe.

“You did that, didn’t you?”

I faced him, expressionless.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, I did.”

He cupped his hands over his mouth and laughed. “Extraordinary. So powerful, so young, and all mine.” He trailed a finger under my chin, forcing me to look into his cold, cruel eyes, and I saw myself.

My eyes became glassy as the weight of Madam’s death weighed heavily on me.

“Come, Aura, I know the kind of woman she was. I know she had kidnapped you for her brothel.”

It took effort, but I muttered. “How?”

“Do you really think I don’t know about the dealings that go on in my kingdom? I had almost bought you for myself.” He pulled out the paper advertisement and read out loud. “Milky white skin, hair like moonlight, eyes like pearls.”

I sucked in my breath.

“You should thank me.”

“Th-ank you,” I said under command, but my body recoiled at the king’s nearness, wishing I could rid the world of the horrid person standing in front of me.

He beckoned a finger, and the king’s personal attendant came forward, bowing his head. The king whispered instructions, and they exchanged the purple bag between them . “You know what to do?”

The servant nodded and slipped away into the shadows.

King Pharell held out his elbow to me, and I noticed the dagger he hid under his blood red velvet jacket.

“Come,” he commanded. “The night is only beginning, and there is more blood to be shed.”

I shuddered as my hand touched the velvet, my eyes never leaving the weapon, wondering who the instrument of death would be . . . the king’s dagger, or me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Music and lights filled the banquet hall. The melodious singing of violins and cellos grated on my nerves. Instead of calm, I was becoming increasingly stressed. They decorated the hall with red paper lanterns, their glow casting a red sheen on the floor that looked like spilled blood.

Like a puppet, I followed behind the king, obeying his every command, internally screaming and waging war against the drugs flowing through my system. I counted down each second, waiting for them to wear off, all while testing the limits of my compulsion.

“Sit here,” the king commanded, pointing to a padded stool to the left of his chair on the dais. Like a dog, I sat, my back straight, focused forward