“I thought you’d never ask,” I say in an exasperated huff before grinning at her again. “I have a contact to ask for at a granary. My plan is to find the contact, join the Sons and Daughters in disguise as a Thayarian commoner, then pass you any information that I hear.”

She laughs again, loud and full, and I take another involuntary step toward her, catching myself when the feline eyes me suspiciously. “That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard, princeling. But I can work with it. We do things in Thayaria with careful planning. I don’t take a single risk that my plans won’t work out.” Silene is going to love her.

Her laugh and relaxed posture light something up inside of me. I can’t stop myself from saying, “Well, then, witchling, please do instruct me in how to perfect this plan.” I give her a charming wink. It’s easy to flirt with her. Either she doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, because she returns to her icy, all business exterior, and we discuss her ideas for the infiltration.

Laurel

The Witch Queen delights in torture, even when her victims don’t deserve it. She strings those she falsely accuses of treason up by their feet, letting all the blood rush to their head and extremities. Then she drains them of their blood one tiny slice of their flesh at a time, collecting it in buckets beneath them so not a single drop is wasted.

The Witch Queen and Her Treachery

“I swear, Your Majesty, I didn’t know there would be any bombs or explosions. I just thought—they said—I thought we were going to come and scare you. That’s all,” a terrified and sobbing rebel chokes out. I’ve been in the prison for hours, my attempt to coax information out of those who attacked me unproductive. As usual, no one seems to know anything about the leadership of the rebellion. “I have a wife and child at home. A little girl. She’s only seven. Please.” His whimpers are infuriating, mostly because I’m falling prey to them. I sigh as I release the dagger of ice pinned under his jaw.