Ensorcelled (Prince of the Doomed City Book 3) by Sylvia Mercedes

Author:Sylvia Mercedes [Mercedes, Sylvia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: FireWyrm Books
Published: 2022-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

I’m not about to fall for a question like that. Seriously, who lives in Eledria for any length of time and just gives their name away?

Turning sharply away from the apparition, I fix my attention on Danny instead. His eyelids slowly rise, his frightened gaze locking with mine. “Let’s go,” I say.

He stares at me. His mouth opens and closes.

“Oh, no, no, you just got here.” The apparition steps between us. Her lovely smile fills my vision again, her lips very red against the whiteness of her teeth. She sweeps a hand, indicating the table. “You really must stay for tea.”

I shake my head, my mouth opening to refuse. Instead, however, I blink . . .

And find myself seated opposite Danny at the table. With no memory of how I came to be there. I catch my breath, look around. Rain patters against the window frames. A low fire burns on the hearth, but its light is faintly green and does nothing to warm the gray atmosphere. The apparition moves to my side of the table and sets a plate of food down in front of me. Delicate lace drapes across her fragile wrist.

Something crawls across the top of her hand.

I pull back in my chair. Was I mistaken or had that crawling been . . . underneath the skin? My neck retracts into my shoulders. I tip my gaze up to the woman’s face, and she smiles down at me. The beetles writhe among the petals of her rose. Several of them fall from her hair and land on the tablecloth.

Who is she? I cannot recall any wraith matching this description. Certainly not the Eight-Crowned Queen, of that I’m certain. But is she one of the Greater Noswraiths? Or just another small nightmare drawn into this multi-layered reality?

She wafts to her place at the head of the table and takes a seat. “Tea?” she says sweetly and lifts a teapot. Danny raises the teacup in front of him. His hand trembles so hard, the cup rattles in its saucer, but he holds it out so the lady may pour. Dark liquid glops from the spout, and an ugly stink fills the air. Danny sets the cup down, his face lined with dread.

“Drink up, please,” the lady says.

He catches my eye. I shake my head, but he reaches out, takes the cup. His hand shakes so hard, dark dollops spill over the lip, over his fingers. He raises it to his lips.

With a desperate cry, I launch from my seat, lunge across the table, and whack the teacup from his hand. It crashes, rolls across the floor. Black slugs ooze out from it, trailing slime in their wake. Though I try to remain standing, some invisible force grips me by the shoulders and yanks me back into my chair. I crash into it so hard, it very nearly tips over. Gripping the arms with both hands, I sit there, heart pounding in my throat, staring across at Danny.

The Noswraith tips her chin and looks at me from beneath her dark lashes.

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