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No amount of breathing could draw her far
enough away to rein in the muffled whimper.
She hated it—hated that sound, as much as
she hated the queen before her and the sadist
at her back. But it still made its way out,
barely audible over the thundering falls.
Fenrys’s dark eyes shot toward her. He
blinked four times.
She could not bring herself to blink back.
Her fingers curled and uncurled in her lap.
“You brought this upon yourself,” Connall
said to Fenrys, drawing his brother’s attention
once more. His voice was as icy as Maeve’s.
“Your arrogance, your unchecked recklessness
—was this what you wanted?” Fenrys didn’t
answer. “You couldn’t let me have this—have
any part of this for myself. You took the blood
oath not to serve our queen, but so you
couldn’t be bested by me for once in your
life.”