I knew what would happen. She wouldn’t strike out at Poppy. The Blood Queen would go after someone else, just to inflict the kind of hurt that never really healed. I wouldn’t allow that. And even though I didn’t want Poppy out of my sight or my arms, I didn’t want her down here in this hellish place either. I didn’t want these walls, the smells, and the godsforsaken cold to join the nightmares that already plagued her.
“You can’t stay down here,” I told her, dragging my thumb across her lip. “I don’t want that.”
“I do.”
“Poppy.” I held her gaze, hating the dampness I saw growing there. Hating it more than anything. “I can’t have you down here.”
Her lower lip trembled as she whispered, “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You won’t.” I kissed her forehead. “You never have. You never will.”
“My daughter is obviously still desperately worried about you,” Isbeth spoke, derision dripping like syrup from her words. “I assured her that you were alive and well—”
“Well?” Poppy repeated, and that one word caused every instinct I had to go on high alert. It was her voice. I’d never heard it sound like that before. As if it were made of shadows and smoke.
The normally chatty Handmaiden unfolded her arms, her stare fixing on Poppy.
Poppy turned her attention back to me. Her hands slipped to my cheeks and then my shoulders. In the waning candlelight, her gaze moved over my face and then lower—across the numerous, now-faded cuts. Her hand slid down my left arm, tugging until her fingers reached the edge of the bandage. Her chest stilled.
A ripple of static hit the air, drawing a hiss from the golden Rev. Slowly, her eyes lifted to mine, and I saw it—the glow behind her pupils. The power throbbed and then spread in thin streaks of silver across those beautiful green irises. The sight was fascinating. Stunning. That stubborn jaw of hers tightened. She didn’t blink, and I knew that look. Fuck. I’d been on the receiving end of it, right before she plunged a dagger into my chest.
I wished we were someplace else. Anywhere I could show her with my lips and tongue and every part of me just how incredibly intriguing that display of violent power was.
A shiver went through Poppy—a vibration that sent another ripple of energy through the cell as she looked over her shoulder. “You have him chained and starved,” she said, and that voice… Golden Boy straightened. The skin around Isbeth’s mouth puckered. They heard it, too. “You have hurt him and kept him in a place not fit for even a Craven. Yet you say he is well?”
“He would be in far better accommodations if he knew how to behave,” Isbeth remarked. “If he showed even one iota of respect.”
That really pissed me off, but Poppy’s skin now had a faint sheen. A soft glow as if she were lit from within. I’d seen it before. What I didn’t remember was what I saw sliding and swirling under her cheek now. Shadows. She had shadows in her flesh.
“Why would he, when dealing with someone so unworthy of respect?” Poppy questioned, and I blinked rapidly, swearing the temperature of the cell dropped by several degrees.
“Careful, daughter,” Isbeth warned. “I told you once before. I will only tolerate your disrespect to a point. You do not want to cross that line more than you already have.”
Poppy said nothing, and the shadows ceased their relentless churning under her skin. Everything about her became still once more, but I felt it under my hands and against me, building and ramping up. The thing under her flesh. Power. Pure, unfettered power. An ache settled in my upper jaw. Fuck. Her essence. I could feel it.
“You are so very powerful, daughter. I feel it pressing against my skin. It’s calling to everyone and everything in this chamber and beyond.” The Blood Queen bent slightly at the waist, her pale face expressionless. “You have grown in the short time since we last saw each other. But you still haven’t learned to quiet that temper of yours. If I were you, I would learn to do so quickly. Pull it back before it’s too late.”
There was no one in the entirety of the two kingdoms that I wanted to see dead more than the Blood Queen. No one. But Poppy needed to heed the warning. Isbeth was a cornered viper. She would strike when least expected, and she would do so in a way that would leave deep, unforgiving scars. She already had with Ian.
“Poppy,” I said quietly, and those fractured eyes latched on to mine. “Go.”
She shook her head fiercely, sending loose curls across her cheeks. “I can’t—”