Page 101 of Madness of Her Mages

A group of six guards surged forward, grasping Steffan and Felicity. Geoffery fought the guards until they tired of his games and slammed him to the floor.

Felicity let out a blood-curdling scream when blood spurted from Geoffery’s nose. “Cousin, please.” Felicity turned a pleading gaze to Malvolia, her hands clasped in a prayer position.

A clap of thunder and then a deluge of rain poured down on our heads.

The girls let out excited squeals, catching raindrops on their tongues.

“Do not call me your cousin ever again.” Malvolia stood and threw her goblet. It bounced off Steffan’s ear before spraying red wine everywhere. “We are no longer family.”

After the guards hauled Felicity and her mates out of the dining room, the storm clouds following them, Malvolia hung her head, releasing a long, slow breath. “If you would excuse me,” she mumbled before quickly disappearing into her throne room.

I winced when I heard the sound of shattering glass followed by Malvolia’s enraged war cry.

I looked down at the girls, worried about exposing them to Malvolia’s wicked court. I didn’t want them to think any of this behavior was normal.

“Eat your soup, Ember,” Aurora said to her sister while spooning up the liquid that sloshed over their bowls with the added rainwater. “It’s not hot anymore.”

And so the girls slurped on their soup and ate soggy bread, telling each other how good it was while completely oblivious to the fact that Malvolia’s court was going up in flames.

EVEN AS I STRODE INTOmy aunt’s suite of rooms, I knew I was a fool for pitying her. Malvolia didn’t deserve my sympathy for all she’d done, and yet here I was, offering comfort to the woman who’d hunted my family for nearly a quarter of a century. Servants parted when they saw me, bowing their heads and scurrying away as I followed the sounds of splashing water. I found my aunt in a beautiful claw-foot porcelain bathtub big enough to accommodate two Fae. Frothy bubbles spilled overthe side and covered her chest while she casually sipped amber liquid from a crystal glass.

Malvolia arched a brow when she saw me, then set her glass down on the stand beside her tub. “Why are you here?”

I moved aside some towels and sat on a nearby bench. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She gave me a curt nod before sinking lower in the water. “This was your great-grandmother’s bathtub.”

“Oh?” I leaned forward to get a better look, running my finger along the porcelain that shone like smooth marble. The claws on the bottom looked like dragon feet with long, curved talons. “It’s beautiful.”

She grabbed a sponge and dragged it down one arm. “I killed the mage Djall in this tub,” she said casually as if she was discussing the weather. “Boiled him alive and separated his skin from his bones like a chicken in a pot.”

“Oh.” I recoiled from the tub as if it had the plague. “And you still use it?” How twisted was her mind that she’d continue to bathe in that tub? I reminded myself not to bring Ember in here. No telling what kind of spirits she’d encounter.

“I did it for your mother. She would have died if I hadn’t.” Her eyes glossed over before she looked away. “And look at how she repaid me.”

A knot formed at the back of my throat, and I mourned all that was stolen from my family because of Thorin’s wickedness and my aunt’s madness. “I’m sorry, Aunt.” I worked hard to push out the words. “For everything.”

“Why?” She arched a brow while cleaning her collarbone. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“What will you do to Felicity and her mates?” I blurted. Even though my cousin didn’t deserve my sympathy, I cared about her fate for her child’s sake.

“I don’t know yet.” She casually shrugged while cleaning the other arm. “Probably behead them.”

Elements, her heart must’ve been crusted over in impenetrable iron, if she had any heart left at all. “For what? Coveting your throne? Lying about a vase?”

She tossed the sponge into the water and gave me a pointed look. “They tried to poison you and your mates.”

“With a laxative,” I corrected. “They didn’t try to kill us.”

“Not yet,” she said. “There’s no telling what they would have resorted to later.”

She might have been right, though that didn’t mean she should punish someone for what ‘could have’ happened.

I breathed out a shaky breath. “Their child will be orphaned.”

Her laughter was that of a madwoman, lacking inflection and devoid of soul, just like her. “Many Delfian children have been orphaned.”

I twisted my fingers in my lap, summoning a courage I didn’t feel. “I would banish them to their estate. I wouldn’t kill them.”

---