The room we arrived in was a dungeon, but different. Light was everywhere, cast by torches, candles, and even magick. Before us was a narrow hallway, and individual cells shot off from it, but there were no iron bars. I was shocked to see small beds in each tiny room, a pregnant witch laying on each. They gazed back out at me with vacant, unseeing eyes.

“Once they’re broken in, they’re easier to manage,” Severn lectured, not even sparing a glance at the witches as we strode down the hallway. “The ones we can’t break, we kill. The witches have a long lifespan, so a few dead ones don’t make a difference. Once they are pregnant, they stay here until the birth. Afterwards, they go back to the laboratory.”

I remembered the agonized, gaping hole of the fire witch’s mouth as she screamed in silent agony. Severn eyed me with contempt.

“Too bad the curse was broken.” He kept walking, and I was forced to keep up behind Thad. A tortured scream rang out from one of the cells, and Severn practically clapped his hands in enthusiasm. “What luck. You’ll get to see what happens.”

Thad’s face was a blank stone, unyielding, unreadable. “Shall I take the draken away?”

Heat blossomed under my skin. Thad wouldn’t even look at me now.

Severn laughed, and it was an ugly, greedy sound. “No need. She will not be leaving this island, and she will go through the process herself soon enough. You will see to that?”

I forced myself not to shake as Thad nodded. He’d touch me again over my dead body. Severn kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I felt sick and nauseous, knowing that if Thad decided to rape me, there was nothing I could do about it if I was wearing the collar. I was no better than the women back at the breeding house. No more free than they were.

Two small demons appeared, going into the cell of the screaming woman and dragging her out. My skin shivered uncomfortably, but what could I do? Her belly was rounded with child, and blood leaked from between her legs. My face went white, despite having seen this happen many times before. At the breeding house at least, there was always a sense of naturalness around a birth that made the screaming and the bleeding part of a larger process. Here, it felt wrong and dirty.

“Get her on the table,” Severn commanded.

The demons grabbed the witch by her arms and legs, and our group reached the largest cell at the end of the hallway. It was bare except for one bloodstained table. They heaved the witch up onto a large, wooden table like she was a sack of flour. The witch’s hair was black and her skin a dark indigo that reminded me of the tips of Benedict’s wings. My heart clenched in sorrow.

The demons chained the witch down so she couldn’t move. My mouth dropped open, but the collar around my neck kept me from speaking. Did they mean for her to give birth lying flat on her back? That position would only make it harder for the baby to come out!