She could’ve married Ryker in a back alley and wouldn’t have cared. It wasn’t about the clothes, decorations, or the location. It was about the man. Something Valentina clearly didn’t understand.
The fire fae snarled, but Brynleigh continued over her, “Second of all, how dare you insult my husband’s Choice, you fucking bit?—”
“And that’s enough socializing for tonight.” Hallie appeared out of nowhere, tugging Brynleigh away. “Valentina, as always, it’s… interesting to see you.”
The fire fae’s gaze turned to Hallie, her sneer deepening. “You. I can’t believe you, aSelected, married a dragon shifter. The head of the Carinoc Division, no less. By all the gods. If you think?—”
“Ladies! It’s time.” A human crew member hurried between the trio and ushered them towards the stage. “Come, come. You need to take your seats. The stream is scheduled to begin in ten minutes. The Chancellor has arrived, and her time is limited.”
Several other women were already seated. A massive seventy-inch screen stood to their right, and an empty armchair for their interviewer was in the middle of the semi-circle.
Hallie sat on one of the ruby couches, and Valentina took another, but Brynleigh remained standing.
That unease from earlier returned, worse than ever. Her eyes darted around the stage. More women were filtering out, but…
Where was Ryker? Where wereanyof the men? They were supposed to be here. The rebels would be showing up halfway through, but…
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Brynleigh extended her senses, listening for Ryker or any male voice she recognized.
None reached her ears.
And then, the television screen on the side of the stage crackled to life.
CHAPTER 32
None of this was Right
Aman—or at least, Brynleigh assumed he was a man since he wore a black mask over his face, leaving only his eyes visible—stepped up to the camera.
No amount of cloth could hide the breadth of his shoulders or the bulk of his muscles. A menacing gleam filled his eyes, and the room behind him was pitch-black.
Something about him made Brynleigh’s skin crawl. A few shadows slipped from her palms, and a cold sweat appeared on her forehead.
“What’s happening?” someone in the audience yelled.
“Is this part of the Reunion?”
Brynleigh’s sense of unease increased tenfold.
A pair of soldiers ran to the TV, yelling about turning it off.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The masked man’s voice was edged with violence. He must have had a camera set up to watch the room.
“If you want to see any of your men again, you’ll clear the room and find me someone in charge. No one try anything stupid. I don’t want any press involved. If I catch a whiff of this on the news or if this stream is cut, we will kill them all.”
One silent second passed before utter pandemoniumexploded.
People screamed, each battling over the others to be heard. Shouts of alarm came from the audience. A few women erupted into tears. Someone fainted. The soldiers seemed just as confused and in shock as everyone else.
Cold, sickening, toe-curling, stomach-turning dread filled Brynleigh’s stomach.
The masked man turned his head to the side, and Brynleigh caught sight of something on his neck.
Was that…
“Isvana help us all,” she breathed.