Valarie found me kneeling on the grass, not knowing what to do with the festering resentment that clawed at my insides. We clung to one another, both of us trying to make sense of what had happened, and what we couldn't do—lash out and retaliate. Neither of us needed to speak; the twin-link hummed with shared despair and impotent rage.

Sirro had escorted Jurgana from the Deniauds, no doubt heading straight to the Emporium, and now a different kind of chaos descended on the lawns. Servants and upper ranks alike tended to the wounded and calmed those who had gone into shock. An eeriness had settled across the blood-drenched lawns with banks of swirling mist and smoke that were tinged blue from the smattering of wildfyre that still burned. It was quieter now, too. No more screams or terrified shrieks for help. Instead, there were agony-laced moans from the wounded and heart-wrenching keening from those who had survived for those who had not.

"We n-need t-to help," Valarie murmured before she pulled herself free from my embrace. My sister hurried off to join Byron who was helping the wounded to the makeshift infirmary set up in the Banquet Hall, while I selfishly had only one thought in my head—find Tabitha.

Exhaustion limned every muscle in my body. I rose, picking up my twin bastard swords, dousing the lightning before I sheathed them, and set about searching for Tabitha. My ruined shoes stepped through sludge and mud, piles of dust, and skirted around debris. I was terrified I'd find her face amongst the glassy vacant-eyed dead.

It wasn't until I heard a familiar feminine voice that I puffed out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Tabitha was speaking with Romain Deniaud, and the icy fear in my gut thawed. Tabitha disappeared into the mansion, and soon after I spotted my sister entering too, following Yveta Troelsen who was bedraggled with a dazed look about her. Valarie called out to the other girl, worried.

A sudden thought occurred to me. I'd given Tabitha my word that I would steal more glamour potion, but I hadn't. There hadn't been any time with Jurgana's wrathful might. I glanced up at the mansion with its soft curves and aristocratic towers, beginning to flick through my options when in my periphery I caught some thing charging me.

I whirled around, a hand instinctively going for the blade strapped to my thigh.

Holy fuck, the thing looked as if it had escaped Hazus, Collector of Souls, and crawled out of the pits of Nine Hells. At first, I thought it was one of Jurgana's beasts that had somehow survived Sirro's unleashing of power. Then I realized that it was storming toward me on two legs. Eyes—brown human eyes—and clenched straight teeth were set in a face oozing with primordial black sludge and fixed on me with blazing ferocity.

I hurriedly backed up, wondering who the hells it was. Man or woman, they were short and stocky. I stilled, squinted, canting my upper body forward—Rosa Battagli?

Rosa reached me with an enraged gleam in her eyes that seemed to make them glow. She let out an ear-piercing scream and kicked out with a bare foot.

I skipped backward. Something caught behind my legs and I stumbled, falling on my ass onto a half-burnt bale, the stench of smoky hay assaulting my nostrils. I stared wide-eyed at Rosa, startled.

"This is for your girlfriend!" she shrieked as she flung an arm wide.

And she bitch-slapped the fuck out of me.

My head whipped to the side. My ears rang with a fiery pain that exploded along my cheekbone. The force of her vicious strike was so hard I was surprised my beard remained on my face.

"Rosa?" I managed to wheeze, right before she slapped me again.

My face whirled in the opposite direction.

Holy fuck!

I swiveled slowly around, both my cheeks on fire and my head reeling, to find Rosa standing there huffing and puffing and glaring at me.

My first thought was of Tabitha and shock rattled through me. What in hells had she done to upset Rosa?

My second thought was girlfriend.

Girlfriend. The word whirled around in my mind. I couldn't deny it—a pleased feeling warmed my blood and some weird feeling fluttered in my chest. Girlfriend had a fucking nice ring to it too. I liked the sound of it. And even though my face raged with pain, I couldn't help the stupid-ass grin spreading across it.

Rosa shoved a chunky finger into my chest and snarled, "That's for your self-absorbed girlfriend-fiancée-whatever-the-hells she is, for pushing me in front of one of Jurgana's beasts to save herself!"

My grin melted into a scowl.

Irma Szarvas.

Of fucking course.

I was about to say, finally, out loud, that Irma Szarvas was not my girlfriend, she was my ex-girlfriend and there was no way in Nine Hells I'd ever marry her, when Rosa grabbed hold of my dirty shirt. Her blackened fingers bunched into the fire-pocked fabric and she dragged me closer. "And this is for saving us from Jurgana's crows!"

Rosa kissed me.

Fucking kissed me.

It was a clack of teeth and smearing of lips and gross dead shit that was stuck to her mouth. She might have even Frenched me a little. I was too stunned to know what the hells she was doing. The kiss suddenly ended just as fast as it had begun and she unlocked her mouth from mine, gasping for breath.

I gaped at her in shock, my mouth falling open even further.

Rosa blew out a gusty breath, swaying on her feet. She was trembling, not in fear, but with excitement and the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins. I blinked, shaking my head, then carefully looked her over, assessing and searching for wounds. "You took on one of Jurgana's beasts?" I croaked, wiping away the gross shit that she'd smeared all over my lips with my forearm. She didn't seem hurt. "Shit, Battagli, you alright?"

Rosa whipped a pin out of her hair, the decorative end designed like a seashell, and withdrew a slender blade from its sheath. It was long and deadly looking, a black blade cursed with dark magic that hummed. Her mud-matted hair fell down her back like thick ropes. She clenched the seashell end of the pin in her fist like a dagger. Her fierce gaze sliced to mine. "I never leave home without it!"

Rosa stabbed the blade in the air like she was a bloodthirsty psycho-killer in a slasher film. "I gouged its eyes out," she hissed, and with her free hand made a claw. "And then I tore it apart with my own hands!"

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the burst of cackling laughter. Rosa, in the current crazy-ass state she was in, might not take kindly to me laughing at her. She'd slapped me, kissed me—she might as well fucking stab me.

Rosa caught my amusement. Her mouth pinched into a tight line. She straightened her spine and eyed me disdainfully. "You might laugh at me and Fluffy and my obsession with dogs and puppies, Varen Crowther, but I know how to kill one. Even one birthed by a godsdamned Witch!"

Then, she scrunched her face and cocked her head. A disappointed note entered her tone. "You're not that great of a kisser."

I slapped my hands on the blackened straw bales.

Why is everyone fucking saying that?!

I almost snapped back that I was ready for kiss number two just to prove I could kiss when I realized what was standing before me: Rosa Battagli—salvation.

I still had a chance, a slim chance that Laurena was still out cold with whatever drug Tabitha had given her. With everything going on down here, there was enough chaos that I might be able to sneak into Laurena's bedroom and slip her some more glamour potion to fool her into believing that her head of hair still remained on her scalp. First things first, I needed glamour potion, and Rosa Battagli doused herself in it to enhance her appearance.

Rising to my feet, I towered over short, stocky Rosa, and rubbed a hand over my throbbing cheeks to ease the pain. "Listen, Rosa, I need a favor."

"Anything Varen," Rosa said earnestly as she drew closer, her hands clasped together. "I can't believe what you managed to do. You saved us from the crows."

I had my doubts it was actually me, but right now wasn't the time to figure out if there was an other amongst us, and who it could be. I clicked my tongue. "Do you happen to have some glamour potion on you?"

Rosa blinked as it sank in what I was asking for. She tittered with embarrassment and pulled an awkward face, trying to deny she would ever use glamour potion with a shake of her head, her free hand preening her matted hair. I imagined beneath the gunk on her face that she might even be blushing.

A heartbeat later, she stilled. Her gaze snapped to mine and her glistening brown eyes honed in on me as sharp as the blade in her hand, as something in her mind clicked.

She gasped, then squealed gleefully as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. The abrupt sound of her excitement irritated my fucking nerves, as well as the way she pointed an enthusiastic finger in my face.

"Oh my gods, Varen, I knew you couldn't be that good-looking in real life!"

I almost barked at her—Of course, I fucking am!

Then I remembered that I was doing this for Tabitha so I had to suck it up. I ran a hand over my ash-dusted hair and gave her a narrow-eyed, sideways look. "I just have some grays is all."

She rose up on tippy toes, hands on my chest as she wove her head from side to side, trying to find the strands of gray amongst the black.

"Why don't you just dye them?"

"Because it's easier to glamour them," I hissed between clenched teeth.

She rocked back on the flats of her feet, folded her grimy arms across her chest, and tut-tutted me. "You are so vain, Varen Crowther. Vain."

My nostrils flared as I tried to tame my temper. This was going to get around faster than a bushfire with the gossiping tattle-tale-Rosa liked to do. No doubt by then everything would be exaggerated. I'd have gray hair with a too-big hooked nose and be hunchbacked.

I gritted out, "So can I get a vial? It's kind of important."

She rolled her eyes, waving a hand toward the mansion. " It's in the make-up bag on the dresser. Up in my guest bedroom."

"Which is?"

"Top floor, near the Wychthorns'. The first bedroom on the right after you leave the staircase."

I clapped her on the back as I strode past. "Thanks, Baby Battagli."

My footsteps faltered and my shoulders almost rose to my ears when I heard behind me a delighted snort. "You're most welcome, Vain Varen."

I pushed off. I'd be done in two minutes—probably less than that with my Crowther speed. I was a streak of flesh, racing across the lawn, into the mansion, and weaving through hallways and up staircases until I'd reached the top floor of the eastern wing. In less than half a minute, I'd found Rosa's bedroom and slipped inside. The room smelled like her—a mixture of flora and faint puppy, infused with childish enthusiasm.

Rifling through Rosa's makeup bag, digging my way through all the girly shit she had in there, I found a vial of glamour. It was tucked into my pocket a second later, and I was on to the next part of my plan. Except, once again there wasn't a fucking plan. I figured I'd head toward the Wychthorn Princess's bedroom and simply wing it. This time if I had to punch the bodyguard and knock him out, I'd do it. The moment I'd shut Rosa's bedroom door behind me was the first time I registered the sound of raised voices down the other end of the twisting hallways.

I stilled, cocking my head, listening.

"And what's more, Rena, you'll be finding a new place to live very shortly."

Byron.

And a warbling that rose to a shrill, outraged shriek of pure fury—Laurena. The sound set all the fine hair on my body prickling and blood plunging into an icy flurry.

Shit, shit, shit...

I lurched forward, surging into a run, pushing faster through the twists and turns of the Deniaud home, heading deeper into the eastern wing. I threw my senses ahead of me, the strands wrapping around four people—Laurena, Byron, my sister, and someone else that had a hint of wild roses and had my heartbeat faltering.

Tabitha...Tabitha...Tabitha...

I sensed the chaotic movement—a domino effect.

Bodies colliding.

A wet schlick sound.

Stumbling footfall and ragged panting.

I skidded around the corner, sliding across polished wood as I entered the hallway where the Wychthorns were residing this weekend.

And came across the aftermath.

Laurena's bright blue eyes seemed bigger in a sickly-pale face without all her hair. They were cast wide and shimmered with utter shock. A hand was pressed to her mouth. Byron and Valarie had fallen against the opposite wall and were untangling themselves, trying to rise.

But it was the girl in front of all of them, her back to them but facing me, that had my entire focus.

She was half-bent over, trembling, one hand braced against the wall. Damp hair swayed in lank locks gone a darker gold and shielded her face. Her avant-garde dress was wet and dirty with mismatched sleeves and an uneven hem.

I was moving. I hadn't stopped moving. I'd already pounded down the hallway and slammed to my knees before her. I was aware I was saying her name over and over again but I couldn't get my vocal cords to work. It came out breathless. "Tabitha...Tabitha...Tabitha..."

Tabitha slowly lifted her head. Her complexion was deathly white and she blinked slowly. One of her hands clutched the handles of the dressmaker scissors. They were sticking out of her stomach, jutting above some kind of scarf tied around her waist like a belt to hold something wrapped up in dirty silk. A distant part of my brain was turning it over and over. Had Laurena discovered Tabitha had been the one to cut off her hair? Or had Tabitha confessed? Either way, the Wychthorn Princess had retaliated.

Panic swamped my chest and strangled in my throat. There was too much blood. Tabitha's navy dress was saturated in it. The scissor blades were thick and wide, and with the upward angle they'd been driven into her stomach, they had to have punctured an organ— maybe the kidney. I'd pulled her out from being pushed into a watery grave. I couldn't bear it, I couldn't bear to think of her dying this way only just after I'd saved her life. I needed to get her downstairs to the infirmary. Get help. Someone needed to bind her wounds with magic and science. I had to save her.

Surrounding me was white noise and confusion.

"Oh my gods...I didn't...I didn't mean to..." Laurena cried, the words muffled behind a shaky hand.

"Get her out of here!" Byron yelled. A hurried noise of heavy footfall as Byron's bodyguard approached and passed by. But he couldn't see Tabitha fully. The angle I'd kneeled in and my broad body hid the scissors sticking out of her stomach.

"The servant girl... She's killed the servant girl..." my sister accused Laurena.

I cradled Tabitha's cold, clammy face. My fingers were clumsy and numb as if my limbs had detached themselves. And my heart, my godsdamned heart was breaking, cleaving right in two.

Tabitha...

Tabitha...

Silence.

Everything was silent but for the roaring in my head. I couldn't hear anything but the sound of my own despair.