What Lurks Between the Fates (Of Flesh & Bone, #3)(22)
She heaved a sigh, impatience settling over her features. I knew I was playing with fire, treading dangerous waters that I had no hope to escape, but that wild thing living inside of me couldn’t seem to shut her fucking mouth. It was as if she saw Mab as a threat, her beast rising up in challenge and wanting to claim whatever shred of dominance she could find.
“You may think me cruel now, but I am the only thing standing between you and rape. Your mate has made himself a large list of enemies, and any one of them would use you to get some shred of vengeance against him if I so much as muttered a word of approval,” she said, nodding her head toward Malachi. I expected the guard to step toward me, to show his willingness to be the one to execute that order.
Instead, he stepped toward the door to the chambers, pulling it open to reveal the broad form of a male standing just beyond the doorway, his features far too similar to Malachi’s. He stepped forward, then paused on the threshold, only tearing his gaze away from me to respectfully bow his head to his queen.
“Thank you for joining us, Ophir. I had hoped our guest would not require any incentive, but it seems she needs a reminder of the fate that waits for her here without the benefit of my protection. Would you care to tell her the ways in which Caldris has wronged you?” Mab asked, folding her hands together and resting them in her lap as she waited.
“He killed my mate, three centuries past,” Ophir admitted, his jaw clenched with his anger.
“And why did he do that?” I asked, because I was under no illusion that my mate was a good male. He did horrible things, but he usually had a good reason for that kind of anger.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ophir said, shaking his head in frustration. His body thrummed with his rage that I would dare to question whether or not Caldris had just cause to kill a woman. It wasn’t as if female Fae were innocent, and Mab was proof of that. “She was good…”
“How good could she have been if she was mated to the likes of you?” I asked, tipping my head to the side and watching his body vibrate with his fury. “You are an errand boy for an evil queen who wants nothing more than to hold the world within her grasp. You are not innocent, and I’m sure your mate was just as fucking dangerous to the world as you are.”
Mab interrupted, cutting off whatever reply Ophir might have had. “Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? You think you’ll be some kind of martyr? Your mate is the only one who cares about your pathetic life, and I own him. No one else will so much as think of you when you’re gone,” Mab said, drawing my attention away from Ophir. “Or is it that you think I will not allow him to have his way with you?”
“He can certainly try,” I mumbled, readying my posture. Whatever the reason, Mab had planned ahead. I couldn’t be certain if she intended Ophir to be a threat to force me into complacency, but I knew nothing good could come from giving her what she wanted from me.
“Close the door, Malachi. It seems our guest is in need of a reminder that she is no longer in Nothrek, where petty humans play foolish games. Members of the Shadow Court do not think twice about violations that can damage the soul for an eternity,” Mab ordered.
The air changed, Ophir’s body tensing as he undoubtedly waited for the command that would unleash him upon me. I would not go quietly into the night, waiting for Malachi to finish closing the door behind the other man.
“Would you like to tell her what you intend to do, Ophir?” Malachi asked, his cruel eyes glimmering as he twisted the key in the lock.
“I’m fairly certain my imagination works far more efficiently than anything he could conjure up with the rocks cracking together inside his skull,” I said, pushing to my feet.
I waited, positioning myself to receive Ophir’s first attack. At my size, the best thing I could do was study my opponent, to learn how he fought and how he moved. But I lacked energy due to the iron and lack of food, meaning I wouldn’t have the kind of time I needed to do so. Ophir lunged, stretching his hands out as if he meant to wrap them around the front of my throat.
“I need her alive, Ophir,” Mab ordered.
Her voice was almost muffled as I sank down into that deep pit within me. It seemed far more empty than normal, lacking the accompaniment of my magic that I’d grown so used to. It made me feel even more alone in the moments while I waited for Ophir to close the distance between us, time moving as if it had been caught in the slow-moving dials of time.
I twisted and grasped my wineglass by the stem, smashing the thick cup against the surface of the table. The sound of shattering glass reached my ear a moment later, and I spun quickly to stab the shard into the first part of Ophir I could reach.
It sank into his flesh just below his ear, the glass weapon protruding from his neck. He froze with his hands just shy of reaching my throat. Blood gathered at the tip of the glass, staining it red. The shard in the side of his neck behaved like a plug, stopping the flow from falling. He gritted his teeth and raised his hand to grasp the stem of what remained of the glass, pulling slowly until it came free of his flesh.
Blood pumped free, splattering down his shoulder to the floor beside him as he staggered for a moment. I twisted and grabbed one of the heavy bowls off the table, flinging the berries Mab had been enjoying across the room as I swung it in an arc toward the side of his face.
Ophir raised a hand and caught the heavy bowl, already recovering from his stab wound as it slowly began to heal. He clenched his fist with his grip on the dish, making the metal twist into something that no longer resembled a bowl at all. He released it suddenly, and I didn’t hesitate to pull back and lower my aim, swinging lower the second time. I struck him in the balls. He bent forward with a wheeze; the breath forced from his lungs.