It didn’t happen. She reached the door and turned the lock. There. Now she had to get to the back door. Both doors were made of thick, heavy wood—even an Each-uisge wouldn’t be able to shove them open easily.

But just as Madeleine turned on her heel to race to the back door, a voice spoke.

“Come out, little sister.”

She froze.

“It’s been too long. Don’t you want to see your family?”

The voice was deep, masculine, and unearthly. It resounded with an echo no human voice could, and it could only belong to one creature.

Asgall said, “It’s dead, you know. The trow. I ate most of it in just a few bites. No more magical protection for you, although you might have guessed that by now.”

Madeleine shuddered. Yes, on some level, she had guessed.

“Madeleine?”

She hadn’t been ready to hear her own name in that voice, sinister as a cold hand in the dark. She gasped.

“If my sister’s too cowardly to come out of her own accord, perhaps you could encourage her? Perhaps you could tell her that if she comes out, I will spare you.”

Oh God. Oh God. Madeleine stumbled backward a step, and then she turned and dashed to the back door.

Even as she did, she heard hooves pounding the ground outside of the cottage in the same direction. Asgall must have heard her moving inside—of course he did, Each-uisge had supernatural hearing, and she wasn’t being quiet—he was keeping pace with her. He was so fast, would he actually beat her to the back door?

Madeleine slammed her body, shoulder first, against the door as she threw the bolt—the new, sturdy iron bolt Hæra had installed only a couple of weeks ago.

Asgall’s steps came to a stop on the other side. She’d barely made it. The door seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright.

He’d answered one question. Hæra was alive, or at least he hadn’t killed her. Apparently he’d do Madeleine no such courtesy.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Her lips moved silently around the familiar words even as she trembled from head to toe. Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

“Hello, Madeleine.”

His voice might have been right in her ear. Madeleine stepped back from the door, her eyes going to the glass panels at her eye height. There were only four of them, and they were small—not enough to break and get into the cottage. They were, however, large enough to see the horse’s eyes looking right at her.

“She’s not in there, is she?”

Madeleine and Asgall stared at each other. Her mouth was as dry as if she’d swallowed half the ocean.