“One thing confuses me,” Rosalind said. “I still don’t understand how the Brotherhood got to me so fast. I told them where you were, but they were already waiting for me by the time I got back to my room. How did they know about us?”
Miranda shrugged, her large eyes gleaming. “Malphus told them, of course. After Randolph Loring hurt him.”
Rosalind’s blood roared in her ears. “You know him? Who is he?”
They reached the stairwell, and began climbing the stairs.
“It’s funny you don’t remember him from Maremount. He was Caine’s brother. I remember everything. I remember you. I braided your hair. And Malphus was the one who gave us bluebells and dandelions when our parents forgot our birthday. Malphus was the one who patched up your skinned knee with tree moss and barbery root. He was always good to us. I never knew he was a demon.”
Rosalind’s mouth went dry. The yellow and blue flowers, the person tending to her knee—it had been Malphus. She could hardly find her voice. “You remember much more than I do.”
At the top of the stairs, Miranda pushed open the door. “I remember too much. Sometimes I can’t quiet the voices in my mind.”
None of this would have happened if Rosalind had never followed Josiah into the interrogation room. Revulsion climbed up Rosalind’s throat. She’d been an instrument in her own downfall, and of the very people she should have protected. She’d told the Brotherhood where to find Miranda, and she was the reason they’d arrested Tammi and Aurora. On top of that, she’d tortured Malphus. When his spirit broke, her name must have rolled right off his tongue.
“I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t recognize him,” Rosalind mumbled.
In the lobby, Miranda tugged on her arm. “It’s okay. Come with me. There’s something you need to see.”
Rosalind shook her head, distracted. Flashing lights blared outside the protective shield that Caine had created around the building, and someone with a booming voice barked orders into a loudspeaker.
Rosalind glanced at Miranda. “What are you talking about? What do you need to show me?”
“It’s in the Great Hall.”
“What do you mean? How do you even know about the Great Hall?” Her skin prickled with apprehension.
Miranda tugged her hand, pulling Rosalind toward the great oak door. “My magic helps me see things. And I want you to see, too. You wear the iron ring. You’re wedded to Blodrial. But I can show you something you’ve never seen before.” She pushed through the door.
Rosalind didn’t know what was happening, but she wasn’t about to argue with the sister she’d sent to a torture chamber. Hugging her sodden clothes, she stepped into the Great Hall, and the door slammed behind her.
“Why are we in here, Miranda?”
Miranda walked to the circular stage. Through the darkness, Rosalind could now see an iron stake that stood in the center of the room, its base surrounded by a pile of wood. High above, moonlight streamed through the oculus, which someone had opened to the air, almost as if someone had prepared the room for… Her stomach hollowed out. “Miranda. Let’s go. We shouldn’t be in here.”
Miranda backed away. Light sparked off metal on her finger—an iron ring. “I didn’t have a choice. He makes me do things. He says he’ll protect me from the pain.”
“Who says he’ll protect you?”
Miranda slipped into the shadows. “Josiah.”
Chapter 32
A fist slammed into the side of Rosalind’s head, and her world spun. She tottered. Through her blurred vision, she caught a glimpse of Josiah’s enormous form. What the fuck, Miranda?
She hadn’t even begun the fight, and was already at a disadvantage. Stumbling, she reached for the gun in the back of her pants, but Josiah gripped her arm hard. He grabbed the gun and pointed it at Rosalind’s head.
“You betrayed me.” His voice cracked.
Rosalind’s head throbbed, and she stared into the barrel. She choked down a thousand angry retorts. This wasn’t the time to argue.
“I was supposed to protect you. I planned to find a way to marry you. You were mine.” The gun shook in his hands. “And then I saw you wrapping your legs around that monster.”
Rosalind seethed with rage. She’d just risked her life trying to save people from Josiah’s torture, and he was going on about a kiss that hurt his feelings. “It was tactical,” she ventured, trying on one of Caine’s lines. “I was doing what I thought I had to do to get back to you. You’ve always been the one I wanted.” The words tasted like poison in her mouth.
“I can’t have a woman who lusts after demons. What about the other incubus? Did you screw him, too?” He favored his left leg—the one she hadn’t stabbed with wood.