“They tortured. They maimed. The witches and other women they’d taken had suffered. But the Black Coat and the others…They didn’t even hear Death’s whisper before they died. Was that justice, Padrick? Did that balance the scales for all the harm they’ve done?”

“Would knowing they suffered balance the scales?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Padrick placed his hand over hers. “If you wanted them to suffer, then you succeeded, Morag. Until they pass through the Shadowed Veil, they will know something men like that would consider worse than death.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her head to look at him. “What could be worse than death?”

“Defeat.”

Chapter 42

waning moon

Adolfo slowly crumpled the letter, working it until it was a ball enclosed in his fist.

The Arktos barons had failed him. Failed him. Instead of continuing the fight until there wasn’t a man standing, instead of destroying as many of the enemy in Sylvalan as they could, instead of fighting on to keep Sylvalan’s forces divided, they had surrendered. Put down their weapons and crawled to the witches with their tails between their legs. And they were given their lives while his Inquisitors, his men, were taken away and hunted down like animals, slaughtered by the Fae.

He wouldn’t even know that much if the messenger he’d sent north hadn’t been delayed by a few critical hours because his horse had thrown a shoe. The man had arrived in time to learn of the surrender and the Inquisitors’ deaths, had thought quickly enough to lie by claiming to have been sent by the southern barons to request news about the fighting in the north.

So he had the report that had been written for the enemy, had the enemy’s taunts and boasts burning behind his eyes, had confirmation, based on the questions his messenger had been asked, that the midland barons and some of the Clans among the Fae were gathered around Willowsbrook, waiting for him.

They could wait. And they could die. He wasn’t going to Willowsbrook with sniveling barons from Sylvalan or craven barons from Arktos. Wolfram was behind him, and Wolfram would not fail him. They would annihilate the army Liam had gathered. They would break the Mother’s Hills and crush them into dust—and everything that lived in that foul place. They would extinguish magic once and for all.

But before he brought his whole army up, he would take a small company of men and ride up to the very edge of Willowsbrook, and he would give that witch-lover Liam, and all the fools who followed him, a gift that would break their hearts.

Chapter 43

waning moon

What’s wrong with him? Ashk wondered as Liam offered her a sickly smile and gestured for her to take the chair in front of his desk. He took his seat and placed his clasped, white-knuckled hands on the desk.