Page 84 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Bloodied.
Gods knew what else.
Shock and confusion rolled through me, strong enough to make my knees weak.
Then disgust.
Then utter, overpowering rage.
Magic filled me, flowing easily from that deep place in my gut into every inch in my body. It consumed me until I felt more like shimmering energy than I did corporeal.
I spun toward the entrance, locking eyes with Gertrand, who stood at attention—still and silent. For all his bravado, even he flinched when my magic flared.
“What in all of creation happened to her?” I shouted.
Gertrand sighed, infuriatingly casual. “She is a prisoner, my lady.”
My chest rose and fell heavily as I worked to breathe through the inevitable explosion building in me. I knew that if I let it out, that if this mass of pure power escaped me, the entire castle would crumble around me.
“She is a prisoner,” I repeated, voice like death. As though that excused it. As though that made this acceptable.
“Who did this?”
“I cannot say,” he replied, avoiding my gaze.
Dark laughter spilled from my lips, low and humorless.
The Dragon.
“He’s been here?” I didn’t need to specify who I meant.
“He sends visitors. That’s all I can say. I am sworn to his service.”
He deserved to die in the most painful brutal manner possible. For Camilla. For me. For all the women who had fell victim to his brutality. The Dragon had to pay.
I turned back to Camilla’s cell. She hadn’t moved—not an inch.
“Let me in.”
Gertrand hesitated. I shot him a glare that left no room for argument, and he waved a hand with a resigned pinch of his brows. The glass barrier vanished.
I stepped inside and rushed to Camilla’s side, pressing my palm to her forehead. Her skin burned under my touch, heat radiating from every infected wound. She wouldn’t survive much longer like this.
If she died, I wouldn’t get the answers I needed.
I turned back to Gertrand, my voice firm, cold. “No one else sees her.”
“My lady, I cannot—”
“Gertrand.” I rose to my feet, still feeling that raw power in every part of me as I brushed the dust from my knees and stalked past him toward the dungeon door. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
He nodded, fists clenched.
“And you know what I’ve done?”
Another nod.
I stepped into the torchlight, letting just the smallest bit of that power escape. I let it rattle the door behind me. Let it knock over some of thebeds in the empty cells. I even let it squeeze gently against his heart, just the tiniest bit, just enough to cause that heart to skip a beat, just enough to let him know howeasyit was for me.
