Keita turned to Batu with sudden urgency. “You need to go to the Empress’s palace. Now.”

“To do what? Fight for decadent imperialist dog?”

“Fight with the imperialist dog.”

“You must be mad.”

“Hardly. Trust me. You want free rein to raid the rich and plentiful cities outside the Empress’s domain? You’ll do this, Batu the Iron Hearted.”

“And what will you be doing while my people fight with imperialist Empress?”

Keita grinned. “Something completely insane.” She motioned to Brannie. “Come on, cousin! You’re with me.”

She lifted her skirts and ran out of the tent, expecting Brannie to follow right behind her.

Batu and the other tribal leaders watched her, waiting for Brannie to make her move.

“She’s my cousin,” Brannie said, by way of explanation. “And I promised me mum to take care of her. No matter what.”

“Your mother, Branwen the Awful, is very cruel to you,” Batu said sadly.

“Branwen!” Keita bellowed through the tent flap. “Move your fat ass!”

Brannie briefly closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Batu came over to her side and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Do not worry, mighty Branwen. Crazed female like her . . . she can only live so long. Then you will be free.”

* * *

Annwyl stopped walking and stared. The herd of demon animals stared back. And that’s when she knew.

“I’ve been walking in circles.” Her head dropped and she let out a shuddering breath. “I’m never getting out of here.”

Something sniffed her and Annwyl lifted her gaze to see the baby animal she’d petted earlier. He pressed his slimy—and quite honestly disgusting—snout against her. Like he was trying to comfort her. It was very sweet and, while the mother watched her attentively from a distance, Annwyl stroked her hand down his snout.

She kept doing it too, because it soothed her. It calmed the voices she’d been hearing in her head while she was wandering around here, seemingly unable to block them out. Petting her new friend seemed to help for a little while.

That was until she heard that voice. Right behind her and taunting, just as always. Because some things would never change.

“I heard you turned into a whore,” the voice said. “Just like your mother.”

Annwyl closed her eyes and pressed her fists against her temples. “No. I don’t hear you. I don’t hear you. I don’t hear you. You’re in my head. You’re in my head.”

The voice spoke again, laughing at her. “Stop being a dumb little twat. Turn around and face me! Face us.”

Annwyl did turn around. Taking her time, keeping her eyes closed at first. Afraid of the game her cruel mind was playing on her.

Gritting her teeth, she opened her eyes and lifted her head. And there he stood.