Page 35 of Devoured

To her credit, Valja doesn’t so much as wince. Cora grins wider, trailing that nail up to Valja’s crown of pearlworts. “I am not afraid of death, Princess Valja, just as I am not afraid of King Kåre. When last I saw him, he was a baby soiling his diapers, and I was sitting on this very throne.” Cora plucks at Valja’s crown, flower by flower, until it unravels entirely. Until broken yellow buds dust the ground like small, chipped teeth. “He grew the way all you royals do. Privileged and pampered. Handed his magical gifts. Handed his title.” Cora tilts her head and glares down at the blonde princess before stepping on those broken flowers and grinding them under her boot. Valja’s fangs sink deeper into her lip, drawing blood. “I am not the same as you. I have worked for everything I have, and no one will take it from me again.”

Cora’s surrounding pack growls in support. Most of them smile in that same wicked way, but a few in the back, a few of the smallest, meekest ones, stand even stiller than I do. They don’t smile or blink or—

They’ve been compelled, I realize with a start. Cora has had to compel some of her newest courtiers, but why? And where the hell did most of them come from? Before I can find an answer, Cora moves beside me. Her fingers drift to my hair, and she plays with the purple strands as if we’re old friends. My stomach plunges with sickening anticipation. She is building to something. Posturing.

And it must involve me.

“I was torn from my privilege, Princess Valja. I was forged anew in hell. And you can bend the knee and join my new world order, or you can die like the others.” Cora exhales softly, and her eyes darken. A shade too black, even for a werewolf queen. “Those who wish to challenge me can try their best, but as you said—disputes of succession often turn deadly, and I think you’ll find me deadlier than most. I am boundless.”

Boundless. I stiffen at the word, at the heavy meaning behind it, and Cora feels it, lifting my arm and smoothing open my palm. She exposes my claws for the soldiers and princesses as if I’m some sort of trophy. Or an expertly polished gun.

“Is she meant to kill us, then?” As if sensing the same, Valja smears the blood from her mouth with her sleeve before spitting at my feet. Her red gaze pierces mine like an arrow. “Am I meant to be afraid of this child?”

“Perhaps,” Cora says. “Your lives are entirely dependent on what you choose to do next.”

Dalla joins her sister’s side, the glint of her claws brighter, far more terrifying, than my own. “What’s stopping us from killing her right now? From killing you?”

“You would die.” Cora lowers my arm before once more ascending the steps, as if readying to conduct a symphony of blood. She glances over her shoulder at the two princesses. At me. “Of course, I encourage you to try.”

Valja gives a curt nod, still glaring at me, and I wish I could run. My legs tremble beneath my thin purple dress, my pulse thundering in my ears as the Antarctic soldiers begin to shift, to transform into werewolves, their uniforms shredding with horrific grating rasps as their bones break. Spears fall to the ground, discarded, as a dozen wolves emerge behind their princesses. Massive, looming, most either snow white or frostbite gray, they snarl as Dalla lifts a single hand.

Valja tilts her head, still staring at me. Studying me, even as her soldiers prepare to attack. As if unable to help it, she says, “Oracles have blue eyes. What’s wrong with this one?”

“Vanessa is not an oracle,” Cora says. “She is something entirely her own.”

A truth. A lie. The mixture of the two feels acidic in my chest, as does her complete lack of concern at the proceedings.

“No.” Finally turning her gaze to Cora, Valja inhales sharply. “There has never been a werewolf with purple eyes.”

“There hasn’t,” Cora confirms.

“But Sybil did not tell us.”

Silence pervades for a moment. For a single, alarming breath until Dalla lowers her hand, not all the way but enough that her soldiers still. Enough that everyone stills and looks to Cora. My pulse pounds, steady but brutal, a roar of anxiety in my ears.

“No, she did not. Vanessa Hart has been living in this castle since September, and Sybil never told anyone outside these walls.” A slow smile spreads across Cora’s face, as chilling as ever. “My sister wanted to keep her pretty little weapon a pretty little secret.”

14

VANESSA

MY SPINE STIFFENS AS VALJA’S NOSTRILS FLARE. HER BURGUNDY eyes gleam with rapt hunger as they flick back to my face. “Weapon?”

Cora nods before settling back on her throne. “There is no other reason my serpentine sister would’ve kept her a secret, and no other reason I would share her with you now. I want you, your court, and your brother to ally with me, Princess Valja, so I offer you the first taste of my most alluring armament.”

My blood runs cold, and my stomach rolls. All at once, I feel as if I’m back there again, in that field, standing among viscera and betrayal and my own ignorance. I don’t know what’s happening, and I hate it. I hate that Cora has kept my own secrets from me. I hate that she is selling them now for an easy alliance.

Tears burn behind my eyes. Even my claws ache with the agony of standing here subservient. A perfect little puppet.

“A pretty little secret.”

I watch with sick anticipation as Cora calls forward a werewolf from her own court. An older man I don’t recognize, his hair gray and receding, his pale skin wrinkled, his eyes a deep, unending gray. “Bishop,” she says, and I don’t know if that’s his name or court title. I don’t know anything—anything—except a deep sense of dread. “Join our darling Vanessa, won’t you?” He obeys mindlessly, each of his steps leaden, pained, as he strolls through the crowd and stops in front of me. He stares at me, blinking slowly, obviously compelled, and I quickly drop my gaze to the floor.

Valja frowns. “Even if this—this presentation impresses us, we can’t promise the king will want to align—”

“I really think you ought to watch before you speak. I am not the only impossibility in this court.”

Dalla and Valja exchange knowing glances, and Dalla nods with a cold, mocking smile. “Proceed. Let us discuss our allegiance after you perform your miracle.”