“Niall?”
He was on the ground, his head at the oddest angle. Meg tried to
get to Niall, but before she could reach the young man, a hand
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grabbed her arm. Ice seemed to flow up her skin, causing her to
shiver.
“Not so fast, Your Highness,” a deep voice said.
Meg’s stomach turned as she looked up into red eyes. They
smoldered from a cadaverous face. Meg remembered that face. It
haunted her dreams. The Planeswalker’s skin was taut across his
sharp bones like a corset that had been pulled far past its wearer’s
comfort.
“What do you want?” Meg asked, forcing herself to breathe
deeply.
There was no point in struggling. She could feel the strength in the
demon’s claws. At this point, the wicked talons the demon possessed
were merely brushing against her skin. Meg had no doubt they would
sink into her flesh if she gave him the slightest provocation.
“What do I want? Oh, so many things, Your Highness,” the
demon said with a rueful sigh.
He towered over Meg at roughly seven feet. His body was long
and thin to the point of emaciation. He stared down at her. Those eyes
were pitiless pools regarding her with curiosity. Meg didn’t know that
she wanted a demon curious about her. “You really are their queen,
you know. Even the hag has figured that out. Tell me something, have
the twins come into their magic, yet? I rather think so. I can smell the
power in this place now.”
“Why don’t you ask my husbands?” Meg tried. She knew it
wouldn’t work. Niall was dead not three feet away. The Planeswalker