Page 86 of Psycho Gods

Silent screams.

Unfathomable torment.

The torture stopped, and the woman gloated down at the girl. “The palace aides told me you freed those monstrous birds from their gilded cages.” Her smile contorted into a frown. “Your maid told me you defended a filthy villager child that was caught stealing.” Her frown deepened. “And that was just from this week. Do you see why I must do this?”

The girl shook her head. “S- S-Sorry. I won’t. I promise. I swear. I’ll stop.”

She snapped her fingers.

The world burned blue.

The blue flames stopped, and as the girl coughed and shivered on the cold marble floor, I started to put the pieces together.

The woman’s unique blue hair and familiar otherworldly beauty, the fae palace surrounded by fae guards, the girl being tortured by her mother.

It was obvious, but I desperately wanted to be mistaken.

I needed to be.

The woman snapped her fingers, and yet again the girl suffered in shades of blue. Her world was a cruel hell, and she knew only torment.

Her slight frame felt like it was breaking at the edges because she was too young to withstand such torture. Few adults could.

Again.

The agony stopped.

The woman grabbed the girl’s chin, and as she leaned close, she smelled like corrosive acid.

She whispered, “You’ll never amount to anything if you keep being so softhearted. Nothing good comes from being weak.” Her eyes were unfocused. “That’s what they want you to believe. They want you to be tethered to righteous morality and neutered like a dog with a fucking handler—they’re wrong. These realms will destroy you if you give an inch. So much power in your ancestry—yet you produce nothing? Not even a single shard of ice. At your age, I could move mountains.”

The woman paused, then spat, “You disgust me, Arabella.”

Horror engulfed me.

The girl zoned out as the mother ranted; she was used to her senseless prattling during torture.

“We’ll continue these lessons every night until you learn.” The woman smirked, and Arabella dropped her forehead to the floor.

Every night. Horror seized me.

My gut feeling had been correct—I was experiencing Arabella’s memories. I was living through her torture.

The child on the ground was my mate.

She was helpless.

Tortured nightly.

I could tell from her thoughts that there was not a single soul in the realm who had protected her from her mother.

The fae guards had kicked my mate.

They’d broken her back.

Sneered at her as she convulsed with agony for hours, naked.

My Revered had suffered in unimaginable ways, and we’d failed her more than we ever knew.

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