Free Carnal Magic: The Wraith Accords, Book 1 by Lila Dubois Page B

skills.”
    “An elegant analogy.” Isabel raised her glass in a toast.
    Deocha smiled, baring all her teeth. Evon was watching the lovely female with wide eyes. The fool had to know what danger he was in, yet Aed had no doubt that he would permit Deocha to abuse him in hopes it would curry favor.
    “Give me your hand, Evon.” Deocha took the young male’s right hand in her left, wrapping her fingers around his. With a jerk of her wrist, she tightened her grip, breaking every bone in Evon’s hand.
    The crunch and crack of splitting bone was clearly audible in the quiet room. Evon dropped to his knees, pale skin now white, his mouth open as if he were screaming, though no sound emerged. Deocha did not release his hand—instead she twisted, forcing broken bones to cut through muscle and tendon as she manipulated the crushed appendage.
    When Deocha finally released Evon’s hand, his index finger had been shifted sideways until it was between his ring and pinkie fingers. His middle finger was curled into his palm. Where there had once been a slim, elegant hand there was now a mangled claw.
    Deocha stepped back, her face shining with savage satisfaction. The room was silent save for Evon’s ragged breathing. The people around the walls looked away. Aed willed them to leave before another victim was chosen, but no one moved.
    “That’s it?” Isabel looked unimpressed. Attention shifted to her. Niamh and Fionn both looked angry, but while the princess’s anger was directed at Isabel, Fionn was staring at Deocha.
    Isabel tipped her head to the side. “Are your bones particularly hard to break? Perhaps I’ve missed the point of your game. I thought you said it was about creativity?”
    Deocha sucked in air so hard her nostrils flared, but when she replied she was smiling. “You’ve missed the subtly of what I did. Evon is one of our most skilled musicians.”
    Isabel stiffened slightly. “And he does not heal?”
    “Had I simply broken it, yes, but I did more than that.”
    “You deprived yourself and the court—” Isabel waved her hand, indicating the rest of the room, “—of this boy’s music to prove that you have some brute strength?”
    Deocha laughed lightly. “I proved that with one hand I am strong enough to change Evon’s life, and powerful enough that he will never complain about what I’ve done. Don’t you see the opportunity I’ve given him? Now that he cannot ever play music again, he will learn a second passion. That’s my gift to him. Isn’t it, Evon?” Deocha looked at the kneeling male.
    “Ye-es, my lady.” Evon’s voice was thick with pain.
    Isabel rose, sweeping her dark hair off her shoulder. “This is your game?”
    Niamh leaned back in her seat. “If you don’t want to play, that’s fine. Deocha is known for her delicate touch.”
    Aed willed Isabel to say no, to walk away from this macabre group and terrible “game.”
    Isabel smiled. “Oh yes, I want to play. My turn?”
    It had been decades since she’d been this angry. Isabel smiled, keeping her lips closed over her fangs. She wanted to jump across the room and rip through Deocha’s white throat. Pain and suffering were part of existence. As a vampire she’d caused pain to humans, pain to other vampires and felt pain herself, but there had always been a reason for it. She felt and caused pain in order to live.
    She’d never seen something so pointless as what they’d just done to Evon. It wasn’t impressive enough to be considered a display of strength worthy of the boy’s sacrifice. If they meant to intimidate Isabel, they’d failed. Instead all she felt was rage at the pointlessness of it, contempt for Deocha and Princess Niamh and disgust at everyone else in the room.
    Aed was standing to one side of the roaring fire. His face was impassive, the orange light of the flames painting the planes and hollows of his cheek and jaw. His gaze flicked to Evon, and for a moment his eyes tightened in a fleeting