Enthralled by Tiffany Roberts

Chapter 12

“A question beyond me,”Prime Fang Korahla said. “The place of the Fangs is to enact the will of the queen. Our fates are always tied to another, be they to her or the gods.”

“And yet our queen was once a Fang herself.” The Archspeaker kept her thoughtful, piercing eyes on Ketahn. “Was she chosen by the Eight to become queen, or did she shape her own fate?”

Ketahn did not look away from her even as her gaze sharpened and gleamed with a strange light.

“I will leave such questions to you and your sisters, Archspeaker,” Korahla said. “To me it matters little. I am sworn to defend the queen. It is no more nor less complex than that.”

“As was Zurvashi, once,” Ketahn said.

Ahnset and Korahla snapped their attention to him, mandibles twitching.

“My broodbrother is a fool,” Ahnset rumbled, tightening her hold on her war spear. “His mind has been addled by the Tangle.”

Ketahn stared into Ahnset’s eyes. He recognized much of what he saw there, recognized her, but more than ever he was aware that he and his sister had spent so much time apart that they simply couldn’t know each other as well as they once had. The lives they’d led had drifted apart, like two strands in a web that had been disintegrating over the years, left connected by only a few thin, worn bits of silk.

“Such things should not be discussed,” Korahla said in a low, tight voice.

“I have but spoken the truth,” Ketahn replied, turning his palms toward the shadow-shrouded ceiling.

“If you are so dedicated to the truth”—Ahnset leaned toward him, clacking her mandible fangs—“open your eyes to the truth of your situation, Ketahn.”

“I have, broodsister. More than you know.”

“And yet you pursue whatever you desire and ignore what will keep you safe and alive?”

“All spirits yearn for something,” Archspeaker Valkai said, her relatively soft voice commanding attention. “For most, survival is enough. But for others, it may be change, power, peace, companionship, or any number of things. Only rarely can we know what comprises the heartsthread of another. But in those mysteries, I think, may lie the answers to the questions I have posed.”

Silence followed her words, seizing the chamber for the space of several heartbeats—during which time Ketahn did not miss the prolonged eye contact between Ahnset and Korahla.

A low buzz sounded in Korahla’s chest. “Come, Archspeaker. We shall see you through your remaining duties.” She gestured toward the open entryway.

“Very well, Prime Fang,” Valkai replied.

“May my broodsister be excused from her duties briefly?” Ketahn asked.

Korahla grunted, narrowing her eyes at Ketahn. “So long as she and Archspeaker Valkai consent.”

“It is not my place to disrupt the sacred bond between brood siblings,” Valkai said.

Ahnset thumped the butt of her spear on the floor and bowed her head. The band on her mandible glinted in the firelight. “I shall not be long behind, Prime Fang.”

“All is well in hand.” Korahla brushed a foreleg against Ahnset’s. “We shall see you soon.”

The Prime Fang strode toward the entryway, but the Archspeaker lingered, glancing between Ketahn and Ahnset. She leaned close, her silk coverings whispering on the floor. “Behind Queen Takari’s sarcophagus, sound does not carry far. You will have as much privacy there as Takarahl can offer.”

After gracefully making the sign of the Eight, she turned and followed Korahla. The Prime Fang paused long enough to glance over her shoulder at Ahnset before exiting the chamber and turning into the tunnel beyond. The Archspeaker kept close behind her.

Wordlessly, Ahnset stalked toward the rear of the Queens’ Tomb, her heavy steps oddly muted in the space. Ketahn followed, studying his surroundings. The elaborateness of this chamber, the crafting skill on display here, made the other burial chambers seem little more than crude, clumsy efforts.

This made the place his mother had been laid to rest seem like a burrow clawed out by a blind subterranean beast.

Ahnset mounted the dais and, giving the sarcophagus respectful space, walked to the back wall, where old silk banners hung. Their crimson dye was surprisingly vibrant despite their apparent age. Ketahn paid neither the sarcophagus nor the silk much attention as he joined his broodsister; her posture was stiff, her fine hairs standing, and her breaths deep and heavy.

“You eightfold-cursed fool,” she growled. “Sneaking into the queen’s sanctum like a killer prowling the shadows? Are you truly so eager to meet your own death?”

“I sought only to speak with her,” he replied as steadily as he could.

Ahnset spun to face him, throwing her arms out to the sides. “I would have taken you to her! Kora—the Prime Fang would have taken you.”

“To my death. Zurvashi wants a worthy male. To prove my worth, I had to accomplish something no other could.” Ketahn’s insides twisted at his own words. All he’d done had been for Ivy, and even pretending that he’d taken those risks for Zurvashi was sickening.

Ahnset dropped her arms and closed the distance between them in one step, forcing Ketahn to tilt his head back farther to hold her gaze.

“Had you gone in peace, she would have listened. But the way you went to her, broodbrother… It is a wonder she spared your life.”

Ketahn’s mandibles twitched. “I know what intrigues her. I took a chance to regain her favor.”

Releasing a sound that was half growl, half snort, Ahnset curled her hands into fists. “That chance was as small as a single leaf compared to the whole of the Tangle. That is no reason to be confident.”

Clenching his jaw, Ketahn huffed. Heat skittered beneath the surface of his hide. Anger; frustration; impatience. The same as he’d felt since he’d left the pit this morning, since he’d left his mate behind.

“I am not your broodling, Ahnset,” he said, his voice harsher than he’d intended.

“Yet you insist upon acting like one.”

A thought darted through his mind—should not have come here—and vanished as quickly as it had come, but it was enough to stab him with a jagged shard of guilt. Again, he felt the distance that had grown between them. He refused to let it remain.

“Do you remember how we would sneak into these tunnels when we were young?” he asked, gentling his tone.

Ahnset averted her gaze. “Yes. The echoes were so much louder down here, and we always used to argue about why.”

“Urkot thought they were spirits mocking us, that they would make the dead walk if we were too noisy. Telok said they were monsters hiding in the darkness, trying to draw us close enough to attack. Rekosh always tried to get them to say something different than what he had.”

Ahnset’s chitter was small and a bit sorrowful. “He succeeded only in insulting himself. And all the while, you and I would chase those echoes to every shadowed chamber, eager to defend our friends.”

“And we succeeded only in bruising our broodbrother.”

She chittered again; it was warmer than the first time, yet even sadder. “Ishkal feared no shadows. It was like they embraced him. Even full grown vrix could not find him if he did not want to be found.”

Ketahn’s mandibles crept into a smile. “And though we knew it was always Ishkal lurking in the shadows waiting to startle us, he managed to give us a fright every time.”

“He never stopped, even knowing how we would react.”

“Oh, he earned those bruises. He wore them with pride.” Ketahn’s gaze dipped briefly, running over the many scars on his hide. Vrix believed such marks were an honor to carry.

He would gladly have traded that honor to have his broodbrother at his side again.

After a long silence, Ahnset said, “He would always have become a Claw, whether the war had happened or not.”

An old, gnarled, bitter emotion twisted in Ketahn’s gut. “Yes. It was natural for him, and there were none who matched him in the Tangle.”

“What fools were we to have thought ourselves warriors as broodlings?”

“We were not fools. We simply did not know.”

“How foolish we must have looked, regardless.”

“You with the stick you imagined a spear.”

“And you with your bone needles and little knife, ready to poke even the most fearsome beast to death.”

Ketahn chittered and folded his arms across his chest. “I would have tried to stitch the monster’s eyes and mouth shut first, that it could not see or bite us.”

“You have never been that cruel, Ketahn.”

“You have never been that cruel, Ahnset. I…served in the Queen’s Claw against Kaldarak. I had to learn cruelty to survive.”

She sighed, and her posture sagged. “For seven years and more, we have but rarely seen each other. It is no wonder we know so little about one another.”

“Ah, my sister,” Ketahn rumbled, brushing a foreleg against hers. There were several smells clinging to Ahnset—the fragrant herb smoke, her familiar fragrance, and, stronger than seemed possible after so brief a bit of contact, Korahla’s scent. “You speak true, but I would not have it remain so. I have kept secrets, but I no longer wish for them to be an invisible wall between us.”

“You are not alone in keeping secrets, broodbrother.” She lifted a hand to tap the gold band on her mandible. “I have long hidden the truth of my heartsthread, even from you.”

“Korahla,” he said gently.

Ahnset turned her palms toward the ceiling. “What else could we have done but kept silent? Fangs rarely have time to satisfy their urges with males, especially when the queen expects us to take only the finest mates lest it reflect poorly upon her. Many of my spear sisters find release with one another from time to time.”

A low, unhappy buzz vibrated in her chest. “Sharing pleasure with the Prime Fang is acceptable. Sharing more…”

Something in Ketahn’s chest constricted, squeezing his hearts and making his lungs burn. Had he been concerned only with himself for so long that he’d missed the signs that must have been there? Had he so easily forgotten that his broodsister was a vrix with her own wants, her own yearnings, her own heartsthread? His thoughts these past two moon cycles had been only of Ivy and how he might be with her, and he’d been willing to forsake everything else in that pursuit.

Even knowing this, he was still willing to forsake all else. But he didn’t want it to come to that.

He could not blame his broodsister for hiding this from him, especially not when he’d kept his own mate a secret. All he could do was hope this would help Ahnset understand what he’d done and what he meant to do.

“To protect what you share with her, you must hide it,” Ketahn said, pressing his other foreleg against hers. He reached up, hooked a hand behind her neck, and drew her down to touch his headcrest to hers. “I understand, broodsister.”

“How could you, Ketahn?” Her voice was soft and small, run through with pain but holding no trace of accusation, anger, or bitterness. “You left everything behind, everyone, to be alone.”

“I did. I forsook everything to seize my freedom…to escape her.”

“And she drags you back with more ferocity each time you pull away. All I have done is encourage you to submit.” She closed her eyes and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Now…you must fulfill your word to her, or you will die. Because I bade you go to her.”

“It is not your doing, broodsister.” The next words he spoke came out unbidden, emerging in a rasp that thickened the air. “I have a mate.”

Ahnset stiffened, and her grip on his shoulder became crushing. “Ketahn…”

“I came to Takarahl today to speak with you,” he said. His heartsthread was taut and thrumming, stretched to its limits, and this was it; this was the moment when he had to give voice to the decision he’d made, when he had to make it all real.

“I must do all in my power to protect her,” he continued,” and that means I must leave Takarahl far behind.”

Ahnset opened her eyes and straightened her back, lifting her head to stare down at Ketahn with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

He held her gaze. Each word he spoke lifted a little of the burden off him and eased the pressure on his hearts. “This is my final visit to the city. I shall never walk these tunnels again.”

“You… Ketahn, you cannot mean this. You…” Her grip strengthened further. “Her fury will burn the Tangle to cinder. Every Claw, every Fang, will be ordered to slay you the moment you are found. I… I will be ordered to slay you.”

“I came here openly only so she would think I have not yet fled. So she would think I am sincere. But once I am gone, I will not be found. She will never see me again, Ahnset.”

“And I shall never see you again, either.” Ahnset’s mandibles drooped.

“Knowing what you have found here, broodsister, I cannot ask you to leave with me, though I long to do so. This situation is far more complicated than I can explain.”

“Try, at least.”

Ketahn chittered humorlessly and shook his head, though she couldn’t have known what the gesture meant. “Truly, I cannot. You would not believe me even if I found the right words.”

She bent down, drawing her face closer to his. “Broodbrother, you must tell me. Your life dangles from a single thread.”

“And that thread is fraying,” Ketahn said. Considering Ahnset’s position as a Fang and her relationship with Korahla, she was already far too involved in his affairs to keep her safe—and he had no desire to place her in even greater danger. He had no intention of threatening her way of life.

But neither could he leave her questioning why he’d left or what he would do for the rest of his days, never to know the answers because he’d vanished into the Tangle.

She deserved to know. And Ketahn could not deny that he wanted the pride of introducing his mate to his broodsister, even if the two only met once.

“Can you leave Takarahl tonight?” he asked.

Her mandibles twitched, and a shudder wracked her, making her adornments jingle. “I cannot turn my back on Takarahl, on my duties, on my…my mate.”

Ketahn bumped her leg with his. “I am not asking you to, Ahnset. All I want is for you to come to my den so you may meet my mate. So I might explain what I can before I must go.”

“What you ask…does it mean betraying the queen?”

“In her eyes, surely. But for you, only in that I beg you to never speak to her of any of it.”

Ahnset drew in a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice had regained much of its usual confidence. “The Prime Fang will grant me leave should I ask it of her.”

A satisfied trill sounded in Ketahn’s chest. “Good. Then we shall see one another again under the light of the moons, as nothing more than brother and sister.”

She squeezed his shoulder again, heightening that flicker of pain. “It is not too late for you to renounce all this, broodbrother. To…become the queen’s and avoid all the risk.”

“Ahnset.” Ketahn reached across his chest to place his hand atop hers, easing her hold on his shoulder but not breaking it. “You know me well enough to understand that it has always been too late for that.”

“If you have found a mate… Yes, I know all too well.” With a last, affectionate squeeze, Ahnset withdrew her hand and stepped back. “I have long been torn between wishing to see you safe and wishing to see you happy, Ketahn. Perhaps it was foolish of me to hope you could have both…but the queen will never allow it.”

“It is possible, broodsister. Just not in her shadow.”

Ahnset stood up straight, squaring her shoulders; that sudden shift from sister to Fang right before his eyes, one last time. “I must return to my duties. The Prime Fang and the Archspeaker must surely think me negligent by now.”

Ketahn sketched an apologetic gesture. “My fault, as ever. Forgive me.”

She chittered, deep and a little rough. “Get moving, that I may seal the chamber. Until tonight. Protector, shield you.”

“And you, Ahnset.”

Ketahn turned away from her, descended from the dais, and strode out of the Queens’ Tomb without looking it over again. Queen Takari had left an immense legacy behind, but it had been ended by a single challenge. What difference did it make if Takari’s heirs had been wise and just if they’d fallen to Zurvashi’s unrestrained strength and cruelty?

He did not look back as he moved in the direction of the spiraling ramp that led to Takarahl’s higher levels. Ahnset’s heavy, clanking steps echoed behind him, fainter with each moment.

There was a future to look toward, one that could be informed by the past but didn’t need to be overshadowed by it. One that he could share with his mate, his Ivy, no matter how far from Takarahl they had to journey.

But first, he had to return to her. And he’d not forgotten where she was now—or who she was there with.

Ivy had assured Ketahn that she belonged to him. He did not doubt her, but all the same he could not stop the thoughts from coming. What if she wanted broodlings—babies? What if she wanted to be a mother? She could only bear young if she mated with one of her kind. He could never fulfill that desire, should she have it.

His fingers flexed, muscles tight, and his leg claws raked the floor.

The thought of her being with another male—touching, kissing, mating—lit a fire in his chest that made his body tremble with rage. He clenched his jaw and let out a huff. This was jealousy, ravenous and aggressive, flowing to his core like rainwater along the strands of a web.

And what would it gain him? What male could he direct this fury toward, who would serve as a rightful target of it? It was useless. It was draining.

It was woefully persistent.

Ketahn quickened his pace, ignoring the dark, silent chambers he strode past, ignoring the cloying stench of death that wafted from the very stone, ignoring Ahnset’s fading steps. All he saw in his mind’s eye was Ivy.

She was all he wanted. All he needed. All he craved. Soon, they would carve out the sort of life they wanted to share, and the Tangle could take anyone who stood in their way.

But he couldn’t ignore the new sound that pierced his thoughts much too late—several sets of heavy steps, thumping and jingling, from ahead.

The newcomers rounded the next bend before Ketahn could duck into one of the nearby burial chambers to hide. Queen Zurvashi was at the head of the pack, unmistakable even in the flickering light, stalking toward Ketahn with her purple silk wrappings billowing around her and her adornments gleaming. Two Fangs marched in step behind her, and three Claws behind them—the pair Korahla had ordered away from the Queens’ Tomb and their companion, who’d broken away from the others shortly after Ketahn had entered Takarahl.

Ketahn’s instincts roared, dumping further heat into his veins. Dread and rage swirled inside him with equal strength and ferocity. Encountering the queen was always a possibility when he returned to Takarahl. He’d been a fool to hope that his open presence would keep her away, that it would intensify her anticipation and convince her to wait until the day he was meant to deliver on his promises.

Apparently, he should have counted himself amongst those who were beyond learning.

Without slowing his pace, Ketahn stood taller, squared his shoulders, and tipped his chin up. Zurvashi’s predatory gaze was upon him, cold and calculating, and her stride maintained its speed. Ketahn drew in a slow, deep breath. Already, he could scent her; her fragrance was sickeningly complemented by the underlying stench of death.

As they drew near to one another, Ketahn said, “My queen, I did not—”

Zurvashi lunged, clamping a hand around Ketahn’s neck. Her hold made Ahnset’s bruising grasp seem tender and careful. He caught her wrist in two hands, clutching it with flaring panic as she heaved him up and swung him to the side.

Darkness swallowed Ketahn as the queen strode forward, but it wasn’t due to lack of air—he felt too much pain to be losing consciousness. Beyond the huge, imposing form of Zurvashi, he glimpsed blue-green light dancing in an entryway surrounded by shadows. She’d forced him into a burial chamber. Out in the corridor, the Claws chittered; the sounds of their smug amusement echoed along the tunnel, warping into the otherworldly chittering of spiteful spirits.

Ketahn’s legs skittered for purchase, but the queen only lifted him higher. Her claws bit into the sides of his neck.

His chest was ablaze with want for air, and his neck was pulsing with agony. He felt the strength draining from his muscles. Darkness encroached on the edges of his mind, dulling his thoughts.

He would not allow Zurvashi an uncontested victory. Ketahn would do all he could to get back to Ivy, to hold her in his arms again, to claim the future he had come to yearn for so wholly.

Ketahn reached for the knife he’d strapped to the upper segment of his rear leg. Against the queen, it would do little better than a bone needle would have against the imagined monsters of his youth, but she would not slay him without some of her own blood being spilled.

His fingers closed around the knife handle.

Zurvashi growled and slammed Ketahn down on his back. The combination of his weight and her strength made it feel as though he’d fallen hundreds of segments onto solid stone. The knife slipped from his grasp, stuck in its binding.

The pain was stunning, blasting into his bones.

She came down atop him, catching his upper arms in one hand and forcing them over his head; she caught his lower arms with her remaining pair of hands and spread them to the sides. Her weight only made his uncomfortable position more agonizing—his back and hindquarters were pressed flat on the floor, putting unbearable pressure on his spine.

Her pelvis pressed against his. Her hide radiated heat, all centered on her slit. Ketahn spread his mandibles and snarled as her large, thick legs rubbed against his, smearing her heady scent across his fine hairs.

“You have denied my cravings for too long.” Her voice vibrated around him, into him, as invasive and insistent as her smell.

Zurvashi ground her slit against his, forcing him even more firmly against the floor. The cold stone bit into his hide. When he opened his mouth to speak, she tightened her hold on his neck and forced his chin up.

“Is this my mighty conqueror? Is this the male I thought worthy of me, who declared that worth himself?” she asked, leaning her head down.

The faintest glow highlighted the edges of her outermost adornments, and pinpoints of chilled gold glinted in her eyes. She brushed a thumb over his mandible. Ketahn snapped those mandibles together, but she was out of his reach.

And still her legs brushed against his, still her scent and heat assailed him.

Ketahn’s insides twisted into knots, and his hide felt on the verge of leaping off his body to flee deeper into the shadows. But was there truly anywhere to hide from her?

The queen rose slightly only to slam her pelvis atop his again, triggering a deep ache in his bones. He kept his claspers tightly drawn in; he refused to let his slit part even a thread’s width. Her scent, thickening with each heartbeat, filled his senses like a cloying fog.

He would not betray his mate. Not for Zurvashi or anyone else. Not even to save his own life.

“Why should I wait?” the queen snarled. As she gyrated her pelvis, her slit parted against Ketahn’s hide, baring the smoother, softer flesh within. “Who are you to deny me what I desire? I take what I want. I will be denied nothing.”

She leaned her torso further over him, increasing the pressure on his arms and altering the angle of her gyrations. The new angle threatened to pry his slit open. “I am the conqueror. I am the queen, and you are mine until I have tired of you—or broken you beyond repair.”

Zurvashi dipped her face closer still, bracing her mandibles against the insides of his—making it impossible for him to shut them.

“Now, Ketahn, my claim is—”

Ketahn snapped his head up, hammering his headcrest into the queen’s face. With a startled grunt, she reeled back, but the sound gave way to a chitter. There was no time to contemplate the change; his chance to act would not survive even the slightest hesitation.

Her altered position removed some of the weight that had been pinning his upper arms to the floor. Ketahn twisted them free of her grasp, laced the fingers of both hands together, and swung them like a club. His fists struck the inside of her elbow, making her arm buckle and breaking her hold on his throat.

The queen trilled and fixed her eyes upon him again. Even in the meager light, he could not miss the lustful, excited gleam in her gaze.

She threw her torso forward, driving her upper left elbow down toward his face. He tilted his head sharply aside. Her huge arm hit the floor less than a finger’s breadth from his face with a heavy thwap. The shift in stance placed her chest directly over Ketahn’s eyes; though her elbow had missed, her dangling beads, pendants, and gold adornments fell to dully strike his face and obscure his view.

His sense of smell was likewise obstructed. Zurvashi’s scent was battering his senses with more strength than ever. He was kept alert only by pain, centered now on his lower forearms, which were still trapped beneath her lower hands and bore the majority of her weight.

He latched onto that pain, willing it to course through him and anchor him like the roots of a tree, hoping it would be enough to hold him through this raging storm. He would not allow her scent to break through. He would not allow it to affect him.

Bracing one pair of legs against the floor, he wrapped the rest around the queen’s lower half, drawing his hindquarters snugly against hers. She pulsed with warmth and made an unsettlingly hungry buzz.

With a growl, Ketahn twisted his hips and heaved. Every muscle in his body strained and screamed. Thankfully, the struggle was brief; the queen’s balance had already been disrupted. She tumbled onto her side with a grunt and the clanging of many pieces of metal against stone, but she didn’t release his arms, and two of his legs were now stuck between her hindquarters and the floor.

Though He heard heavy steps and voices somewhere behind him, saw the scant light broken by large shadows, yet he could not afford to remove his attention from the queen for even the space of a heartbeat. She was too dangerous.

Zurvashi carried her momentum into a roll, dragging Ketahn along with her. He threw his free legs wide and planted them on the floor, using all his strength to halt that roll as she came down on her back and preventing her from following through to tumble him beneath her again.

Her upper hands darted up toward his neck. Ketahn bent his left arm, catching her thrusting hands with his forearm and leaning his weight against them. His limb shuddered against the terrible strength she exerted. Panic threatened to explode inside him; he knew this was but a sliver of her might. She’d win this contest of strength the instant she chose to do so.

Ketahn reached back with his right arm and tore the knife free from his leg. Quick as a lightning strike, he had the blade against Zurvashi’s throat.

The queen’s amber eyes flared, and she spread her mandibles. The countless braids of her hair were strewn around her head in wild tendrils, her many adornments were in disarray, and a trickle of blood glistened at the corner of her mouth, likely the result of the blow inflicted by his headcrest.

Slowly, she opened her mouth, and her long, yellow tongue slipped out to lick away the blood.

The queen chittered again. It echoed in the chamber, building into something impossibly more twisted than usual. “Ah, dear little Ketahn.”

He snarled and threw his weight onto the knife—but it had not yet bit into flesh when powerful hands grabbed all four of his arms and ripped him away from Zurvashi, who finally released her hold on him.

Though he could now see the Fangs who’d accompanied the queen on either side of him, his crimson-tinted vision remained on Zurvashi. His legs skittered across the floor, claws scraping stone in his desperation to get back to her and finish what she had begun.

To finish her.

One of the Fangs wrenched his arm, breaking his hold on the knife. The weapon fell to clatter on the floor. Then he was dragged to the rear of the chamber, spun about to face the entrance, and slammed against the wall. His back struck cold, hard stone. His hindquarters scraped roughhewn rock and bumped into something wrapped in thick silk; it had slipped into one of the burial holes.

Zurvashi was already standing. She straightened her attire nonchalantly, reclaiming her queenly composure a little at a time.

“What is this?” Prime Fang Korahla demanded from the corridor.

There were more steps rushing to the chamber, more figures charging in through the entrance. But Ketahn’s attention was fixed on the queen, who was a towering, shadowy shape before him.

“So, there is some merit to your boasts,” Zurvashi said, stepping toward Ketahn.

Ivy…I am sorry.

“Six days, Ketahn.” The queen slowly trailed a foreleg along the side of his, forcing more of her scent onto him. That sickening hunger still gleamed in her eyes, though there was something terrifyingly tender in them now also, and her voice became a purr. “I am hopeful after this display. Next time, I will not hold back…and I expect you will impress me with your claiming.”

She turned and strode toward the exit as Korahla and Ahnset entered the chamber, their eyes unreadable in the shadows. Zurvashi shoved past them and waved a hand in the air. “Release my little hunter. He has much to do in the days to come.”

The queen paused in the entryway and glanced over her shoulder as the Fangs let go of Ketahn. “And tell that fool Durax to report to me immediately should you happen across him out there. He has exhausted my good grace.”

And then Zurvashi was gone, the two Fangs hurrying after her.

Ketahn’s legs nearly buckled as weakness coursed through him like floodwater from an overfed stream. The queen’s smell clung to him, overpowering every other scent. His hide thrummed, crawling with sickening heat, and pain throbbed in more places than he could count.

He was fiercely brushing at his legs with all four hands, desperate to wipe away that scent, that taste, when Ahnset grasped his shoulder.

But the queen’s smell wouldn’t fade. She had buried it into his very hide.

“Easy,” someone said; it might have been his sister, but might also have been Korahla.

Ketahn struggled against the hand on his shoulder. “I must go. Must return to…”

To Ivy. Only she could fix this. Only she could make it better. Only she could make him forget the taint the queen had left upon him.