“No!” Valentina screamed.
The fire fae broke free of the guards circling the other women and ran to the screen. In a show of emotion that Brynleigh hadn’t known the other woman possessed, Valentina grabbed the television.
“Edward!”
The fae’s head reared up. He screamed against the gag. His words were garbled, but there was no mistaking the fear in his eyes.
“Release him!” For the first time that evening, the Chancellor’s voice shook. “Let him go.”
The masked man reappeared, and the look in his eyes was darker than ever.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
A red ribbon of magic slipped from his palm, slithering through the air like a deadly snake until it hit Edward and vanished into him.
For one long, drawn-out moment, nothing happened.
Then Edward groaned. An anguished, guttural sound came from his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes widened.
“What did you do?” Valentina screamed, struggling against the guard who was pulling her back.
The masked man shrugged. “Did you know Death Elves can kill someone slowly by draining their life force from the inside out?”
“What?” Valentina screamed. “No!”
Red ribbons swirled around the man—the Death Elf.
“You have one hour before this man dies, Ignatia. Then, I’ll pick another. And another.” He sent another ribbon of magic towards the fae on his knees, and Edward screamed. “I could do this all night long. I’ll even give you a few minutes to decide what to do. Talk to you soon.”
The screen went black.
Three heartbeats passed in absolute silence before chaos descended on the stage. Shouts and screams and cries battled for attention. Valentina’s sobs could be heard above them all.
It turned out the fae did have a heart, and it sounded like it was breaking.
People were yelling at the Chancellor, but Ignatia Rose was giving orders to her guards.
Brynleigh wouldn’t sit still and do nothing. Not while Ryker was in danger. Releasing the couch, she strode towards Nikhail. The air fae seemed to have the same idea as her.
He gripped her arm. “Backstage. Now.”
A dark-skinned woman walked beside him, the tailored jacket of her feminine suit flapping open and revealing the gun tucked in her waistband.
She didn’t have the pointed ears of a fae or elf, and she didn’t smell like a shifter. Maybe she was a witch or an especially skilled human.
As they walked backstage, Nikhail ripped off Brynleigh’s microphone. He handed it to the other woman, who pressed a button before throwing it away.
“It’s off,” she said in a soft voice.
Brynleigh looked at Nikhail. “I need to find Ryker.”
At the same time, the air fae said, “I know everything.”
Something in his eyes made the predator deep within Brynleigh stand on end. He was dangerous like she was dangerous.
Her eyes widened as she carefully drew shadows into herpalms. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, not even one of her husband’s friends. “I didn’t do this. I would never hurt Ryker.”
When she’d suggested to Jelisette that the rebels attack, this was never her plan. She never wanted anyone to get hurt. She just wanted to stop the Black Night.