box. Evil, devious prig .
Sylvius suddenly flung up his arms, surprising the guardsmen into letting him go. Through the haze of her injuries, Constance felt a stab of terror and fierce pride. He’s going to fight back .
Instead, he unfurled the wings he kept folded tight against his back and leapt into the air. Sylvius landed on a ledge high above them, crouching so his hands and one knee touched the stone. His wings spread above him, boned and webbed like a bat’s, but finer and more elegantly arched. Like all of him, they were pale and beautiful, a translucent white flushed with the heat of his blood.
Sylvius gave a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “My apologies, Captain Reynard, but I’d rather not spend the rest of eternity as a paperweight.”
“That is not your decision,” said Atreus. “You are mine to dispose of as I please.”
“No,” the youth said quietly. “Not about something like this.”
Captain Reynard looked sad. “You are a prisoner here.”
“But not in your box.” Sylvius flew to a ledge closer to the door, landing with the grace of a hawk.
Reynard swore under his breath. Things were obviously not progressing according to his well-reasoned plans. “Atreus?”
Constance let her eyes drift closed, riding a cushion of pain. Atreus was old, older than she had ways to measure. Time and the strange magic of the Castle were finally stealing his wits. Still, he had good moments. She prayed this would be one of them. She forced her eyes open again.
And was disappointed.
Atreus moved to face the ledge where Sylvius was perched. The sorcerer was pulling at his hair now, twining a few long, black strands around and around his fingers. “Captain Reynard is right. Your very existence is a danger to everyone. It would be better to surrender.”
Sylvius’s reply ached with reproach. “I thought you loved me, my king.”
“It would not be love to let you roam free. Too many desire you.”
“They desire what I could do for them. I do not think it’s me they want.”
The men stood like a tableau, staring up at the demonangel perched on the stone ledge above.
“Do this out of love, Sylvius,” said Atreus. “You see what damage you’ve caused already. Constance is hurt.”
I have to move . Constance crawled on hands and knees from beneath Viktor’s hairy belly. Every motion made her body scream, but she wasn’t going to give them one scrap of ammunition to use against Sylvius. Her foot got tangled in the hem of her dress, but she got to her feet, raising her eyes to her boy.
“Sylvius.”
They all turned.
“Don’t listen to them. This isn’t about you. They’re afraid.”
The look he gave her broke her heart. “I know that, little mother.”
All eyes bore down on her, waiting to hear her answer. All eyes, except that of the captain. Reynard moved the box with his foot, sliding it forward an inch or two, wordlessly stating his insistence. The sound of the wood on the stone grated harshly in the sudden silence.
Pride more than strength kept Constance on her feet. She wasn’t used to speaking out, and the very audacity of it was adding to her dizziness. “Put that trinket away, Captain Reynard. You’re not taking him.”
Viktor whined, but she motioned him to stay. She walked toward the men, putting one foot gingerly before the other, but her attention was on Sylvius. He sat still and silent, his eyes fixed on her with the look of someone losing his world. I’m all right. Don’t let them use me to trap you .
She heard the rustle of Atreus’s robe as he raised his hand to strike her again. She wheeled on him, the sudden movement making her head swim. “Threaten me if you like but you can’t kill me. I’m already dead.”
He blinked, looking away. “You will be silent.”
“Think!” she snapped. Insulting a sorcerer wasn’t smart, but she was wild with fury. “You’re letting the captain bully you into betraying the few people left who still love
Sylvius suddenly flung up his arms, surprising the guardsmen into letting him go. Through the haze of her injuries, Constance felt a stab of terror and fierce pride. He’s going to fight back .
Instead, he unfurled the wings he kept folded tight against his back and leapt into the air. Sylvius landed on a ledge high above them, crouching so his hands and one knee touched the stone. His wings spread above him, boned and webbed like a bat’s, but finer and more elegantly arched. Like all of him, they were pale and beautiful, a translucent white flushed with the heat of his blood.
Sylvius gave a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “My apologies, Captain Reynard, but I’d rather not spend the rest of eternity as a paperweight.”
“That is not your decision,” said Atreus. “You are mine to dispose of as I please.”
“No,” the youth said quietly. “Not about something like this.”
Captain Reynard looked sad. “You are a prisoner here.”
“But not in your box.” Sylvius flew to a ledge closer to the door, landing with the grace of a hawk.
Reynard swore under his breath. Things were obviously not progressing according to his well-reasoned plans. “Atreus?”
Constance let her eyes drift closed, riding a cushion of pain. Atreus was old, older than she had ways to measure. Time and the strange magic of the Castle were finally stealing his wits. Still, he had good moments. She prayed this would be one of them. She forced her eyes open again.
And was disappointed.
Atreus moved to face the ledge where Sylvius was perched. The sorcerer was pulling at his hair now, twining a few long, black strands around and around his fingers. “Captain Reynard is right. Your very existence is a danger to everyone. It would be better to surrender.”
Sylvius’s reply ached with reproach. “I thought you loved me, my king.”
“It would not be love to let you roam free. Too many desire you.”
“They desire what I could do for them. I do not think it’s me they want.”
The men stood like a tableau, staring up at the demonangel perched on the stone ledge above.
“Do this out of love, Sylvius,” said Atreus. “You see what damage you’ve caused already. Constance is hurt.”
I have to move . Constance crawled on hands and knees from beneath Viktor’s hairy belly. Every motion made her body scream, but she wasn’t going to give them one scrap of ammunition to use against Sylvius. Her foot got tangled in the hem of her dress, but she got to her feet, raising her eyes to her boy.
“Sylvius.”
They all turned.
“Don’t listen to them. This isn’t about you. They’re afraid.”
The look he gave her broke her heart. “I know that, little mother.”
All eyes bore down on her, waiting to hear her answer. All eyes, except that of the captain. Reynard moved the box with his foot, sliding it forward an inch or two, wordlessly stating his insistence. The sound of the wood on the stone grated harshly in the sudden silence.
Pride more than strength kept Constance on her feet. She wasn’t used to speaking out, and the very audacity of it was adding to her dizziness. “Put that trinket away, Captain Reynard. You’re not taking him.”
Viktor whined, but she motioned him to stay. She walked toward the men, putting one foot gingerly before the other, but her attention was on Sylvius. He sat still and silent, his eyes fixed on her with the look of someone losing his world. I’m all right. Don’t let them use me to trap you .
She heard the rustle of Atreus’s robe as he raised his hand to strike her again. She wheeled on him, the sudden movement making her head swim. “Threaten me if you like but you can’t kill me. I’m already dead.”
He blinked, looking away. “You will be silent.”
“Think!” she snapped. Insulting a sorcerer wasn’t smart, but she was wild with fury. “You’re letting the captain bully you into betraying the few people left who still love
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