Page 21 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“You’ve come to take us back,” Ambrose, one of the councillors said. “Free us, Kilian. Give this Ybris bitch what she wants and get us out of here.”

“Take a seat, Your Majesty,” Snow called to me, pointing to the chair across hers and then to my brother. “Princeling, you too.”

“Will you tie us up as well?” My brother sassed taking a seat in his appointed chair.

She cocked her head to the side, some humour flashing in her stare. “No. Unless you want me to.”

My brother grinned, flashing his pearly whites. “Kind offer, but I prefer it the other way round.” He turned to point his head to me. “My brother, too. But I guess you might already be aware of that.”

All humour vanished from her features. “Careful, Princeling.”

Mal chuckled and at this point I established he was not hungover. He was downright drunk. “Why, will you kill me?”

Her brows rose. “Actually, yes.”

Ambrose spat before her. “Careful how you speak, you animal.”

“Shut up, Ambrose,” I ordered, the room dressing in the gloom of my spilling magic as I pulled the chair back and took a seat. Snow jerked in her seat a little, her golden stare eyeing my magic with some horror, and I immediately regretted using it.

All of the councillors' heads turned in my direction. This was their mess I was sorting, they at least owed me peace while I did it. Blessed peace which I've had too much off these days. I had tasted chaos—electric chaos. I craved nothing else but. “What am I doing here, love?”

She blinked tiredly, her thick lashes fanning over sombre eyes. Had she not slept? “Did you know Taren has the richest mines in the whole of Dardanes?” She stood, taking a butter knife in her hands while circling around the table. “Our metal is strong. Of course, not as strong as your black steel, but similarly indestructible in a sense. Rocks of metal usually injure the men when it is mined because it is so sharp. It is said that even a dull blade can nick skin.” She stopped beside Ambrose, my whole body seizing with unease. “I’ve never cut a tongue with a dull blade before.”

In seconds, she gripped Ambrose's jaw with one hand and pried his tongue out before slashing the butter knife across the soft muscle. In one slow cut and several screams later, she flicked half of my councillor’s tongue on the table. Blood coated her black leather gloves as she plucked grapes from the table and shoved them in his mouth. “When I tell you to fucking eat, you fucking eat and keep your trap shut.”

Tears and pain marred Ambrose’s pale face, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. He gave her a jerky nod. I thought she’d had her fill of satisfaction, but I was proved wrong once again when she flipped the butter knife between her fingers and dug the blade in his eye. Ambrose’s head flopped back, limp and lifeless. Hells.

The stench of sudden death made me dizzy for a moment.

“Eat,” Snow said to no one in particular, pulling the knife back and chucking it on the table. The thud reverberated around the room, and few flinched before hurriedly obeying and cautiously beginning to chew the food in front of them.

Mal chuckled and pried an apple from the table. “Meal and a show.”

“Your council is as useless as you used to say.” She dropped on her chair and cocked her head toward Stregor with a wicked smirk etched on her lips. “Or you’re as deceitful as your king and know how to seal a secret. Tell me, how does an Empath see lies?”

Stregor’s shadows were all over the place as he spoke, but none were of lies, “I will tell you again, I have not the slightest idea what on the gods or hells an Octa Virga is let alone where to find it.”

There it was. The reason why she had brought me here. The reason she had spared Adriata in the first place.

She stood and made toward me, her silk dress swished at every step revealing her lean legs and my eyes couldn’t help but drop there. Stopping before me, she lifted herself on the table and leaned close to my face. “I suppose Nia has made you aware of the details surrounding my father and the sceptre.”

“What is she talking about?” Stregor pressed.

A vein on her neck twitched and she let out an irritated sigh. Before she got to her feet, I grabbed her wrist to stop her from dragging her blood show. “What is it you want from me?”

She pulled away from my hold and plucked a napkin from the table to wipe the skin I’d touched. “Want?” Her brow rose. “I want nothing from you, because you will give it to me.”

Stregor struggled in his bounds. “It will not happen, whatever she is going to ask of you. You will not allow that thing to take over our kingdom. Not when I’ve spent my life protecting it!”

“Stregor, Stregor, running on a thin line here my friend,” Mal crooned, leisurely chewing on his apple.

Snow went still and then slowly turned to my councillor. “Stregor?”

My councillor faltered and began shrinking in his seat. He knew what that name meant to her. “My daughter won’t allow you to hurt me.”

Nesrin? What did she have to do with this?

“Your daughter?” Snow asked, her mouth curving down in distaste. “Just for that I will make sure to keep you alive enough to feel your eyeballs as I feed them past your throat.”