Page 165 of Bitten & Burned
“For?”
“Her, of course.” Rellin’s dark eyes found mine. “He wanted that broken little witch bad. He’d give up anything for her. Said we’d get the land if we delivered her. Those were his words. Delivered.” He smiled when he said it, grinning luridly at me. My skin went cold.
“Delivered her,” Vael echoed. “Not unharmed. Not untouched. Just… delivered.”
Rellin laughed. A bitter, broken sound. “Didn’t care what state she was in. Said—and I quote—‘she’ll be grateful to anyone who puts a stop to it.’”
He grinned then, wild-eyed. “Didn’t even flinch when we told him what we’d do. Just looked bored. Said it’d make her easier to handle.”
It felt as if the room had dropped ten degrees.
Anton’s arms locked around me tight enough to choke. Quil’s breath hitched so hard it sounded like a snarl.
But Vael didn’t move.
Didn’t even look. But I saw it, roiling under the surface. Heat. Anger.Rage.
He just tilted his head, voice still smooth. “So he wanted her broken.”
Rellin chuckled. “Thought she’d beg for him to save her. Said if she was scared enough—hurt enough—she’d cling to him like a fucking lifeline.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The pain flared—bright, unbearable.
He knew.
Silas knew what they’d do. What they’d try. And he’d let it happen.
Worse—he’d planned for it. Expected it. Wanted it, even.
My hands shook. My leg burned. The blood sang in my ears.
I wanted to scream. To vomit. To disappear.
But all I could do was whisper, “He knew…”
Then everything went black.
Twenty-Five
SMOKE IN THE WATER
Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune
27 Ebry, Year 810
I awoke to pain,which wasn’t that unusual as of late.
But this was different.
Searing, scalding, consuming pain pulsed in my thigh, wrapping around the bones and radiating outward. It set my teeth on edge, made every muscle in my body clench like I was about to be struck. My shoulders throbbed. My neck burned. A cluster headache pounded behind my eyes, every pulse a drumbeat of agony that made me want to burrow back into the dark.
“Rowena?” Quil’s voice—shaky, uncertain—broke through the haze. “Baby, are you?—”
“Gods, you have to do more than that, Ashborne…” That was Anton—snapping, pacing, panicking. “She needs blankets, hot water bottles, comfort. Tea… uh… more blankets…”
“I know what she needs,” Quil muttered. “She needs a bath.”
