39 #2
I want to snarl and lunge at her; I want to rip those hateful teeth from her mouth bone by bone, but uncontrolled emotions have gotten me nowhere.
I glower at her instead as Lord Allard steps from the dais beside her.
Golden eyes. Blood hidden beneath his collar.
And his scent—traces of it wind through the crowd, and I recognize it now. He was with her at the beach.
I ground myself with another deep, steadying breath and ignore the scarlet edging my vision. At the base of the dais, a woman who must be the Countess of Montana stands beside a man I assume to be the Earl of Alberta. Both turn as the courtiers part before me in twin waves.
“Good evening, little Bitten one,” the queen purrs. “What brings you—uninvited—to my throne room at this very late hour?”
My eyes flit between the courtiers’ faces, and I recognize most—the queen’s inner circle, her trusted confidants.
I swallow hard. Their expressions range from mild disapproval to outright disgust, not one of them friendly.
Except Lyra. She stands on the queen’s right side, looking strangely solemn.
I focus on her face as I say, “You know why I’m here. ”
She doesn’t react whatsoever. Right. She doesn’t need to react to listen.
“Oh?” Queen Sybil flicks a hand toward the countess and earl, jerking her chin toward a man I’ve never seen.
A scrap of white linen obscures his eyes, and his robes—also white—hang from a tall and skeletally thin frame.
They bely his gift as a Justiciar, a werewolf gifted in the magical art of reading one’s choices.
“Are you here to watch what happens to those who sow discord in my court?”
Before I can answer, the Justiciar moves with eerie grace to stand behind the countess, who tenses as he cradles her skull.
When he plunges his forefinger claws into her ears, she screams and almost collapses, but his tether on her brain forces her to remain upright. Beside them, the earl turns green.
It takes only seconds for the Justiciar to pinpoint the exact choice that led her to this nightmarish scene.
Clearing his throat, he says in a slow, deep voice, “There was no malice in her provocation of Lord D’Artagnan and no intent to undermine the harmony of this court.
Lady Billings simply bedded his brother. ”
Silence descends at his pronouncement. And all of this—it is so stupid , and further proof that Queen Sybil cannot and should not be leading this court.
The countess’s crime was simply sleeping with the wrong person, and now a Justiciar has claws in her brain.
He removes them with a slick and sickening sound, and Lady Billings does collapse this time, blood trickling from her ears.
A ringing starts in my own as I push toward the dais.
Now or never.
“Where is Princess Evelyn Lee?” I ask the queen. “Where did you send her tonight?”
Queen Sybil licks her lips—licks the blood off them. Another snarl builds in my throat, but she tilts her head with a cold laugh. “It sounds like you already know.”
In my periphery, the earl slinks backward as even the Justiciar rotates to face me.
The courtiers remain silent and watchful, their attention fixed solely on me.
Good. I need them to hear me. I need them to help me.
Though I know this is a long shot—appealing to the queen’s closest companions—I have no choice but to take it.
“The princess is dead.” I hesitate as Queen Sybil’s gaze sharpens, and she slowly sits forward. Our eyes lock. “You murdered her.”
A shudder seems to rock the throne room, and several of the courtiers recoil, the rest frowning and blinking between us. A fragile tendril of hope unfurls in my chest. They look—shocked.
Queen Sybil notices too. Her black eyes rove their faces before hardening. “That is preposterous. I was here all evening.” She turns to her conspirator at the base of the dais as the fire of her lies ignites in my chest. “Wasn’t I, Lord Allard?”
Calmly as I can manage, I state, “She is lying . He was with her. I saw them tonight at the beach, where the queen and three others ambushed us as wolves—where she crushed Evie’s throat in her jaw.”
“Asinine,” the queen spits, just a little too aggressively. The Justiciar tilts his head at her. Blood drips from his claws. “You have never been permitted to reenter the mortal realm.”
“ You have never been permitted to slaughter members of your court.” I gesture around us to the courtiers, who have started to whisper.
One has even grown fangs, his brown eyes narrowing on the queen’s face.
I speak directly to him. “First, she killed Instructor Alvarez, and tonight she has slaughtered the future queen of this court. Who knows how many others have died at her hand in secret?”
His lip curls with a low growl.
Queen Sybil stands in response, smoothing her skirts as she descends the stairs to approach. I am a wild animal inside, rabid and throttling the bones of my cage, but I still lift my chin to meet her lethal gaze.
“Oh, little Bitten one,” she murmurs. “Always so vicious, aren’t you? Always so righteous.” Her coal-black eyes flick to mine. “Your emotions make you foolish, Vanessa.”
My name lands between us like a grenade. She has never spoken it before this moment. It feels like a death sentence. I force myself to stand my ground. It’s too late—even if I wanted to, I cannot flee. I can only pray her courtiers will hear the truth in my words.
“Where is she, then?” I demand. “Where is Princess Evelyn Lee?”
Queen Sybil arches an imperious brow. “As you seem to know so much about this situation, why don’t you tell us?”
She isn’t answering my question. Determination floods my veins anew as the courtiers around us sense it too.
The brown-eyed man isn’t the only one watching her suspiciously now.
He isn’t the only one who realizes she doesn’t want to speak the words aloud.
Not in front of her court—not when I can tell if she’s lying.
They know I’m a Truthseer. “Answer the question, my queen . Honestly.”
“Very well.” She flashes a knife-sharp smile.
“I am certain you spent tonight tussling on the beach. One could smell the blood on you from a mile away. But you were either drugged or mistaken. I did not kill Miss Lee, and you will cease these accusations immediately—or I won’t hesitate to punish you again. ”
I blink as every person in the room turns to me, awaiting my response. Even the Justiciar seems to hold his breath.
No.
Arrow after arrow of her honesty impales me, bleeds me dry, but—but how? I stumble back a step, heedless of the eyes on me. She’s lying. She has to be lying. I saw her. “No,” I whisper. “N-no. You were at the beach.”
“Do you see a body? Do you have evidence?” The Wolf Queen begins to circle me, spreading her arms wide to address the whole room. When she speaks again, her voice is louder. Harsher. “I did not kill Princess Evelyn Lee.”
A truth. A brutal fucking terrible truth.
How how how
My mouth parts in confusion. My eyes widen.
She must’ve found a loophole within my gift.
Or… or she’s made a bargain for the ability to lie to me.
Or , a voice whispers in my mind, she’s telling the truth .
But she can’t be. I don’t care that her honesty ices over the fire raging in my chest. She killed Evie. I saw it.
“Well?” she asks sweetly. “Am I telling the truth?”
Lord Allard smirks at my dumbfounded expression, but—but there’s blood on his collar. There was blood on her lip. They’re lying. I shake my head, unable to voice the words, even as the court stills entirely.
The queen is lying .
I feel it in my bones. That instinct, the one dormant beneath my Truthseer gift, stirs.
It begs me not to trust her. Evidence or not, Queen Sybil snapped Evie’s neck and ran away with her.
I know what I saw. “Even without those darling little abilities,” she says to her inner circle, “you all know I am telling the truth. You can hear my pulse. You can scent my calm. You can see I remain in control.”
“And what of Instructor Alvarez?” the brown-eyed man asks quietly.
The queen draws to a halt in front of him. “I am pouring every resource into uncovering who murdered your husband, Peter. I promise to do the same for Evelyn Lee if she has indeed been murdered.” Her black eyes cut to mine. “Which I doubt.”
When Peter drops into a low bow—the ultimate sign of submission—my heart plummets, and Queen Sybil stalks back to me.
She flicks aside my hair. Her nail trails from my throat to my chin before she squeezes it.
Hard. Eyes watering in pain, I’m forced to meet her gaze.
“My sweet, purple-eyed pup—you are playing a child’s game, and you have lost. You will always lose.
And I will punish you again and again and again until you realize this is an adult court with adult consequences.
” She leans low to whisper directly against my ear, too quietly for the others to hear. “Oona is not the only one you love.”
She tucks my hair behind my ear almost lovingly—maternally—before stepping away. And I can’t breathe. I’m going to be sick. Oona is not the only one you love. My thoughts spiral wildly to Sin—to Sin —and my knees threaten to crumple as the room around us swings back into motion.
The queen murdered her sister. She would murder her son too.
She would probably burn down this whole castle if it furthered her agenda.
My claws cut into my hands and wrists. Blood wells and drips onto the tile.
My heart thunders like a summer storm. A courtier shoves me from behind as Queen Sybil resumes her place on the throne.
Another shakes his head with a dismissive laugh.
And Peter—he refuses to look at me as Lady Billings rises.
As Lord D’Artagnan pales.
As the Justiciar looks to the queen for guidance and a wide, benevolent grin spreads across her face.
She waves an airy hand. “I think we’ve suffered enough theatrics for the evening.
My lord and my lady, please return to your guest suites until your departure in the morning. I am certain this won’t happen again.”
They both hasten to agree before tripping over themselves to reach the exit.
The other courtiers don’t bother to watch them go.
Already, they’ve begun to pour themselves drinks from a bar cart in the corner, and gentle chatter fills the room as the queen surveys her favorite toys.
Her puppets. Everything returns to as it was—except me.
I stand alone in the middle of the room, ignored by everyone and lost. So lost. I don’t know what to do, where to go, who to trust. Evie is dead, and everyone I love has been threatened.
They’re in danger. We’re all in danger, and the queen—she has us in the palm of her hands.
Sheer hopelessness lodges in my throat, and I curl inward.
I don’t know what to do.
“Vanessa,” Queen Sybil says softly. Dangerously. “Leave.”