I close my eyes, focusing on the western coast where I feel the disruption. The mist perks its head up at my magical gaze and whispers to me. Rebel. Bad Intentions. Kill. The person attempting to shove their way through the barrier is wrapped in a blanket of dew and hauled into the center of the hazy wall. I hesitate for a moment, considering whether to give whoever this is a second chance. But the mist insists, practically screaming in my head the need for justice. While I may not know what this person has done, I trust the mist’s judgement, even if I can’t explain why. With a deep inhale, I unleash my fury, their bones and organs evaporating instantly. The mist settles, content and humming once again, and I bring my consciousness back into my body.

Anger courses through me as I finish my breakfast, and I use it to bury any guilt I may feel from my merciless decision. How dare someone attempt to breach my mist. A rebel, no less, and when I was having a relaxing morning. I rip apart the sweet bread in my hands with more vigor than usual. Remembering the rebels currently sitting in chains far below me, I aerstep to the palace dungeons.

The Thayarian palace is built into the side of a mountain named Verdeshorn, and our holding cells are buried deep below its peak. The damp and earthy space is dark and ominous, and I use the water in the air to gather an eerie mist around me, then dim the lights emanating from the torches on the wall. I will the temperature to drop—I want the prisoners to know I’m coming. Most fae can’t use their magic down here because of the iron the floors and walls are made with, but those rules don’t apply to me, and they’ll be all the more terrified because of it.

“Your Majesty.” The guards on duty see me and bow deeply. “We didn’t realize you were coming today.” Their eyes are wide in apprehension at my surprise appearance. “Would you like us to send someone for the Captain?”

“That won’t be necessary. Captain Carex is busy with other duties. Please, bring the prisoners to the interrogation room.”

When the first prisoner is brought in, a fae male with blonde hair, I direct the guard to chain him to the wall before dismissing him. My steps echo as I prowl closer to the prisoner, eyes unblinking in a stare meant to make him squirm.

The male spits at me. “I won’t tell you anything, Witch.” I only smirk.