Some of the executioners had gathered in the wide doorway and were watching her. One of them held a weapon she’d never seen before—it was shaped like a scythe, and so large and heavy it dragged on the floor when he moved.
How he lifted it, she couldn’t have said, and didn’t care.
They’d tortured Owen. And he was one of hers.
She rose to her feet in one quick, liquid movement, death in her heart. Vengeance in her heart. She’d kill them all.
Brasque rushed into the room, dozens of guards at his back with their shotguns up and ready.
She smiled.
She’d kill them all.
Brasque held up his hand. “Wait, Princess.”
She tilted her head, feeling more animal than human. “You’re going to die, shimmer lord. I’ll save you for last, because I want to take my time with you. I won’t lie. It’s going to hurt.”
They would have only seen a blur as she ran toward them. She killed two of the torturers before they even realized she’d sent her claws through their throats.
“Shimmer lord,” one of the guards yelled. “The order?”
But he didn’t give the order.
He shot out claws as long as hers—longer, maybe—and held them to her throat.
Her shock had made her slow to react.
“Wait,” he repeated.
She narrowed her eyes. I can take him.
But he spoke again, and she hesitated. “Before you move, my claws will exit your back. While you’re on the floor, trying to heal yourself, my guards will finish the young man you seek to rescue.”
He pushed his claws, just the tips of two of them, into her chest. Just a tiny prod, but enough for her to feel something hateful in his claws.
It was his turn to smile. “They are made of obsidian, my child.” He slid them a little deeper. “Will you listen to what I have to say or shall I pierce your heart and force you to listen?”
She snarled at him, her rage flying like particles of metal inside her, screaming for release. “Talk. But you will die, motherfucker.”
He nodded. “The man you released was once the witch’s messenger. He was her slave. He killed for her, tortured for her…” He shook his head and pulled his claws from her flesh. He didn’t put them away, but they were no longer digging into her skin. “He is not innocent, and he is not your friend.” He waited.
The remaining executioners shifted from foot to foot, restless, but the guards didn’t move at all. Brasque Dray simply waited, quietly, but she could see fury in his eyes.
“Maybe,” she said, her voice strong, “he once belonged to the witch. But now he belongs to me.” She dropped her fangs. “And I mean to have him.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“He’s mine. That’s all I need to know.”
For a second, a spark of something close to pride appeared in his deep eyes. His smile, instead of cruelty, held a hint of admiration. “There are better people for you to save in this world, Princess.”
“And I’ll get to them.”
He retracted his claws. “My executioners tortured the truth from him. Would you like to know it?”
She darted her tongue out to wet her lips, cutting it on the sharpness of her fangs. Would she like to know it? “Yes.”
“I am not the wicked one in all this, my dear. Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you the story of Owen Five. You can assess the Flesh army later. You don’t have to trust me, but I beg you to look into my eyes and see the truth. I mean you no harm. Without you, we are all dead.”
She walked to Owen, then threw a look back over her shoulder. “Bring a stretcher. He’s coming with me.”
He sighed, then shrugged. “Prolong his agony if you must. He’s dead anyway.” And he turned to send two of his guards for a gurney to carry what was hers out of hell.
She watched them carefully, growling if they seemed to touch him a little too roughly, or if they jostled him as they walked toward the castle.
“Have your doctors help him,” she ordered Brasque, but he shook his head before she’d even finished speaking.
“They will touch nothing that once belonged to the witch, and even I cannot force them to.”
She couldn’t allow herself to really see his injuries. Couldn’t allow herself to think too much about the shape he was in, or the fact that lying there destroyed and helpless was Owen Five.
No. Could not.
But she could allow all that pain and heartache turn to