Wrath appeared in a cloud of smoke and glittering black light, rage etched into his ice-cold features. “Are you injured?” “No.” I pointed to the blood on the tile. “But the same isn’t true for the assailant.” Wrath scanned me first, his attention catching on my neck. His expression turned thunderous. I imagined a red welt was forming. The very foundation of the castle vibrated.

His breath caught, harsh enough that she looked over her shoulder. But his eyes weren’t on her face. Or the water. They were on her bare back. Curled as she was against her knees, he could see the whole expanse of ruined flesh, each scar from the lashings. “Who did that do you?” He was so still that she wondered if he’d stopped breathing. “How long?” he asked after a moment. She braced herself for the pity, but his face was so carefully blank — no, not blank. Calm with lethal rage.

It was the Duke. Even from where I stood, I knew what had been shoved into his chest — through his heart. I would recognize it anywhere. It was the cane he’d lashed me with.

The tiny noise Auren lets out makes my warring soul splinter, my entire body shaking. She tries to claw his hands away from her, but the bastard has a solid hold. Furious magic bites at my skin and arches into my feet, but I dig in, holding it back. “You are a fucking dead man,” I vow darkly.

“Kaz killed a lot of people. Rotty saw him go after the Black Tips who had you up on the crates. I believe his exact words were, ‘There was enough blood to paint a barn red’.” […] “He was afraid for you.” “Kaz isn’t afraid of anything.” “You should have seen his face when he brought you to me.”

me and you, you and me why don’t we see who is better? —– Days of Adrien Agreste #175