The woman’s eyes drop to the ground and her shoulders slump. The fae male reaches her, pinning her wrists tightly in his grasp so that she’s forced to drop her laundry. He pushes her against the wall and fondles her breasts. Disgust and shame cross her features, but she does nothing, likely too used to the abuse to stand up for herself. The male unbuttons his pants, and I’ve seen enough. I freeze his limbs and force the air from his lungs. Thorne tenses beside me, knowing we’re about to be discovered and preparing himself for the fight. Hazel’s body is freed, and she stares in shock and fear around her, not understanding what’s caused the fae to halt his assault and go red in the face from lack of air. Instead of screaming for help, she darts away, and I let out a sigh of relief as I allow the male to breathe again, though I don’t release his limbs.

“Nicely done,” Thorne murmurs in my ear, and I can’t stop my jaw from dropping open in shock. I expected him to chastise me, to tell me we don’t have time for this or express disgust that I would take away someone’s agency in this way, but he doesn’t. Instead, he conjures a dagger of light and steps up to the male before slicing him across the throat without hesitation. The male slumps, and Thorne catches his body, angling him so that not a single drop of blood falls to the floor. With strength that makes me weak in the knees, Thorne hauls the man’s body into the room he exited and drops him unceremoniously. Thankfully, it’s an empty laundry room. “Can you lock it with your metal magic?” he asks as he returns to my side. I do as he bids, my body humming in appreciation of Thorne. Something about seeing him so willing to kill, with no hesitation, deepens my feelings for this male. It’s not the violence of it, but rather the knowledge that he can share the burden of the crown with me. For the first time in my entire life, someone killed for me, spared me the act that darkens my soul each time I must do it. “Let’s move quickly, before someone finds him,” is all he says, grabbing my hand and walking us away.

We continue our search, looking through every room on the first floor, finding nothing, before moving to the second and third floors. The upper levels are even more crowded, and it’s slow work, our bodies ducking and pressing against the wall every few minutes to avoid detection. After searching every inch of the manor and finding nothing but rebels, we return to the small laundry room where we stashed the dead male.