Thronos set his jaw. Not—a—demon.

Melanthe didn’t answer. At least she refused to join in their ridicule.

Emberine’s gaze roved over him, desire plain on her face. “I must initiate him!”

He could remain silent no longer. “Try it, slattern. Free me, and try it.”

They tittered at that. “Oh, Portia, I know I could get him to stray!”

Best of luck. You think I haven’t endeavored to? He glanced in Melanthe’s direction. How would she feel about him being with another?

Though her face was blank, her eyes shimmered.

“We can’t waste time on that, Ember.” Portia seemed . . . jealous? “We move on with our plans.”

With another laugh, Emberine sprinted to Melanthe, faster than Thronos’s eyes could follow. In a heartbeat’s time, she’d crossed the clearing, stopping behind Melanthe to position a blade at her slender throat, hovering above that collar.

“No!” Thronos bellowed, his instinct screaming for him to protect his mate.

The metal was simmering red from Emberine’s hold. It would slice through Melanthe’s flesh. She swallowed, wincing from the heat.

Portia rose, riding a cloud of pebbles toward the two females, readying a severed hand for the torque removal.

Felix—the as-good-as-dead sorcerer—followed, seeming amused by the proceedings.

Emberine told Melanthe, “You’re about to do precisely as we say, or you’ll die. But before Portia releases your powers, we’re going to ensure that you can’t call out any persuasive commands.” She gripped Melanthe’s cheeks. “Now, stick out your tongue like a good little queen.”

TEN

Lanthe’s thoughts were in turmoil.

Encountering Felix again after all these years was throwing her. Not to mention seeing Ember’s lust for Thronos. The fire queen’s need to seduce him had affected Lanthe in surprising ways, ways she’d have to think about later.

For now, she was a mite busy preparing for an amputation. Sweat dripped down her forehead and neck, pooling against her damned collar.

“Lose your tongue, and gain your freedom,” Ember sneered.

Thronos bellowed at that, his wings flaring inside his cage. As if he cared about Lanthe. He acted this way because of uncontrollable instincts—despite hating everything about her.

Was Thronos that much different from Felix? Two males wanted something from her; yet neither cared about her. They only saw what she could give them, how they could use her.

“Be quick about it,” Felix said, earning a scathing look from Lanthe. “The sooner Mel’s tongue goes, the sooner it regenerates.” Flashing white teeth, he quipped, “I know just how she’s going to want to break in her new one.”

Lanthe shuddered. He could make her believe she loved every minute of her violation.

“Open wide!” Ember cried. “Don’t worry—the blade’s not quite hot enough to cauterize.”

Lanthe swallowed again. All the Pravus allies closed in on the scene, the promise of gore exciting them. Seeing them like this, she could almost understand why one species would feel the need to police them.

Unless someone swoops in to save the day, I’m about to lose my tongue. Though it’d grow back, tongues were supersensitive; mother of gold, this was going to hurt.

A toll I’ll pay to get free.

She glanced over at Thronos. He was thrashing against the immovable stone. When she stuck out her tongue and Ember pinched the tip with her gauntlet claws, he grew crazed, ramming his horns into the rock until blood dripped down his face.

She tensed, readying for the pain.

Felix murmured, “Be over in a minute, Mel.” Soothing words, even as he avidly watched—

Slice.

She screamed, blood spewing. Cheers and laughter broke out.

Agony assailed her; black dots swarmed her vision as she choked on blood. When her legs grew weak, Ember held her up by the collar. With her other hand, she raised Lanthe’s severed tongue for all to see. Then she tossed it into the crowd.

Stay conscious, stay conscious.

Portia ran Fegley’s hand over Lanthe’s face before she used the thumb to remove the torque.

Freed, Lanthe dropped to her knees, digging into the ground. She spat up mouthful after mouthful of blood, crimson streams splattering over her gauntleted hands.

Colorful enough, you bitches?!

“The threshold, Lanthe,” Portia said in a casual tone. “Directly to the centauri capital, if you please.”

Lanthe gave them a shaky nod, as if she was about to get right on this. She began manifesting her sorcery, and the pleasure of it counteracted her pain. After her enforced hiatus, she was brimming with power!

When she caught Thronos’s gaze once more, she smirked around pouring blood. Like him, these Sorceri continued to underestimate her.

She had a secret ability, one she’d been sure not to reveal in their cell. Because at heart, she was a sneaky, suspicious sorceress.

Even her new friend Carrow hadn’t known Lanthe could communicate telepathically, a power stolen more than a century ago.

Lanthe’s persuasive commands didn’t have to be uttered by her; they merely had to be heard by her victims.

She raised her bloody gauntlets, iridescent blue light and heat blurring the air all around her. They’d think it was for the portal.

Wrong.

She would utilize the command that came in so handy whenever Auntie Lanthe babysat Cadeon and Holly’s twins. She mentally ordered: —Pravus, SLEEP.— She watched as their legs grew unsteady, lids heavy, expressions baffled. —SLEEP. And forget I was ever here.— Bodies collapsed one by one. Portia and her platform of pebbles dropped to the ground, motionless.