Page 93 of Dhampira

And two women and one man sat apart from everyone else, their eyes burning with rage above mouths covered with metal that integrated seamlessly with their skin. Manacles encased their hands.

“Whoa,” the driver said, one boot on the footboard as he tugged hard on the reins. The horned horses stopped, tails swishing as they tossed their heads and stomped hooves the size of dinner plates.

I stumbled to a halt, my blood running cold. The witches stared at me, the fury in their eyes hot enough to incinerate. If their hands had been free, I had no doubt they would have reduced me to ash.

Lorcan strode to the wagon.

“Well met, Your Highness,” the driver called, climbing down from his seat. He landed with a good-natured grunt and hitched his trousers over his rotund stomach before offering Lorcan a deep bow. When he straightened, his horns glinted in the waning sunlight. Fangs showed between his lips as he hooked a clawed thumb toward the cage. “Fresh supplies for the king. The lads and I had a good haul this day.” He patted the nearest horse’s flank. “Didn’t we, Orlyx?”

The horse belched a stream of fire.

I jumped. Beside me, Vander was still and steady, his features hard.

No, blank. He wore no expression. Gave no sign that a cage full of his countrymen, some bleeding and injured, bothered him.

Supplies.

“Excellent,” Lorcan said, flicking a look over the cage’s occupants. “His Majesty will be pleased.”

“Fuck that maniacal cunt!” a raspy voice shouted.

A gasp rippled through the prisoners. Seconds later, a diminutive, winged man shoved his way to the side of the cage. No larger than a cat, he nevertheless emanated menace as he locked eyes with me.

“Fuck you, too, bitch! You and your ginger bitch knight!” Snarling, he gripped his crotch and pumped his hips. “Get fucked!”

Recognition slammed into me. He was the pixie from the road. The one who’d insulted Vander before his female companion hauled him away.

Do you want your head to end up on a pike?

The wagon’s driver swung toward him and brandished a fist. “Oy! Shut the fuck up, or I’ll bash your teeth in.”

“Eat shit!” the pixie hollered. The feathered man on the bed of the wagon buried his head in his hands and sobbed harder.

“What is this racket?”

I froze as Rasimir strode from the Drakhold with Delphine at his side. She avoided my gaze as they approached the wagon.

Rasimir didn’t. A smile lit his green eyes as he came to me and kissed my hand.

“Daughter. How was training?”

“Good. Father.” The side of my face burned as the pixie glared at the edge of my vision.

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Rasimir’s smile didn’t budge as he turned to the wagon. “I’m less pleased to hear such an unseemly display from our guests.”

Several of the wagon’s occupants shifted backward, making the wood creak. The horse the driver had called Orlyx snorted, twin clouds of black smoke puffing from its nostrils.

As Rasimir continued forward, Delphine stayed put, her eyes downcast and her hands folded in front of her. She could have been one of the statues ringing the courtyard. Vander remained just as still at my shoulder.

Lorcan turned to Rasimir. “Only three spellcasters, Majesty.” He fixed cold eyes on the driver. “You call that a good haul?”

The driver paled, his horns flattening against his head. “I…” He shot a nervous-looking glance at Rasimir. “The witches are difficult to catch, my prince. The powerful ones can kill with a flick of their little finger. I—”

“Shut up,” Rasimir said, his tone mild and his gaze on the cage. The driver clamped his lips together, but Rasimir paid him no mind as he approached the bars.

The pixie remained in place even as the Noctans around him continued shuffling back. His wings twitched and he lifted his chin, his bright eyes locked on Rasimir.

“Why so quiet?” Rasimir asked. “You had a lot to say before.”