Page 148 of Their Wicked Cage

“Fortunately, you didn’t account for me in your little plan,” drawls Carver, flashing his fangs. He licks the corner of his lips. “The sleeping draught is long out of her system.”

Avaline’s gaze is a thing of fury. “And I remember everything.”

She holds out her hand. In answer, one of the vines snatches my supreme’s dagger from my belt and tosses it to her. She catches it by the hilt and slashes it across Not-Gwyn’s face.

The female screams, and the glamour shatters.

Vessaryn.

I stumble back. “You were in Lichenmere.”

Crimson drips down her cheek. To Avaline, she spits, “You’ve ruined everything!”

Avaline tosses me my dagger and drops to her knees, clutching Vess’s face with one hand. She digs her nails into her wound without mercy. “Where the fuck is Winny?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” Her teary gaze shifts to me as she struggles against the nymph’s grip. “I’m sorry, King Riven. I— He made me do it. He threatened to kill my sister. I didn’t have a choice. She’s all I have⁠—”

“Name him,” Ava demands.

“Lord Devlin! It was Lord Devlin who took her!”

Avaline drops her hold, wiping her bloody hand on the healer’s gown.

“Lord Devlin.” Carver’s brow furrows. “Isn’t he the one Rory had a vision about?”

“Yes,” I say, guilt a hurricane in the pit of my stomach. “I was supposed to set up wards to alert us if he came back into the Fae Isles, but⁠—”

“No,” Arkyn says firmly. “You’re not going to blame yourself for any of this.”

He’s right. Berating myself isn’t going to bring Gwyn home.

My hands curl into tight fists at my sides. “What do you know, Vessaryn?”

Tears stream down her face. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” she cries, voice trembling, “but first, you must promise to protect Isabel and me. Please.”

“Consider it done. As one of the Seven, I will protect you and your sister,” I promise, voice firm. “Just tell us what you know.”

“He’s planning a trap,” she whispers, eyes never leaving my face. “Lord Devlin’s going to kill you at the altar. He’s going to blame Gwyn for your murder and seize the throne. The council—” She swallows. “They’re going to arrive just after sundown to find the scene.”

“Fucking bastard,” Arkyn hisses. “If I get the chance to draw his blood again, I won’t hesitate.”

“Where is he?” I ask Vess, kneeling beside her and using my sleeve to wipe away the blood dripping down her cheek. Her wound is nearly healed. “If we can track him down, he’ll lead us to Gwyn.”

“I don’t know. He never told me where I could find him.” Her bottom lip quivers. “He always sought me out. First, in the apothecary, when he approached me about playing the part of Lyrielle, and then every subsequent time after that until you announced Gwyn as your bride. That’s when he told me he was going to spirit Gwyn away and put me in her place. I refused.” Her eyes soften. “I— I could see how much she meant to you, and strangely enough, I think it helped me… get over what I thought we shared. It wasn’t until one of our individual courting sessions that I realized I didn’t love you, not really.” Her breath stutters. “You and I never looked at each other the way you and Gwyn do.” Fresh tears track down her cheeks, mixing with the blood. “That’s when he told me he had taken Isabel as collateral. Said if I didn’t play along, he’d kill her in front of me—slowly—and then he’d kill me too.”

Sovereign Sisters, this male needs to be stopped.

My mother. Lyrielle. Vess and her sister.

And now, Gwyn.

Did he view all these strong, capable females as collateral to get what he wants?

My fucking throne?

I pick up my dagger from the floor and cut Vessaryn’s bindings.

“I can’t lose her, King Riven!” She throws her arms around me, and I hold her as she sobs into my shoulder. “She’s all I have.”