Linea's breath was a muffled rattle from the magical serpent covering her mouth, her wide, watery eyes wavering between terror and hatred. Still, there was nothing she could do—not against Kael, not against the battalion of witches, and certainly not against the silvery figure bowing before the man she had tried to destroy.
Kael, leaning on the broken chain like a makeshift iron throne, let his eyes narrow. A cold, hungry glint glinted there, amidst the blood and pain. His voice echoed, hoarse but charged with authority:
"Fontane…" He repeated the surname slowly, as if savoring the metallic taste of a blade. "So… this bitch is Sarah Fontane's daughter."
He tilted his head, the chain scraping against the stones beside him, and stared at the silver-haired leader with a lopsided smile.
"Tell me." The tone wasn't a plea. "What do you know about this… 'mother'?"
