Kingfisher had been taken by Malcolm, Madra, and Belikon. Tied up to a post, Madra was now.. provoking him.

Fisher growled, low and menacing. He turned hate-filled eyes on the queen of Zilvaren. “Remove yourself from me, or you won’t like what happens next.”

“Oh, please.” Madra waved away his threat. “I hate to tell you this, but I can do anything to you that I want. Malcolm has always let me play with his toys.”

“I play back,” Fisher spat. “It might not be today, but oh, I am coming to find you, Madra. Fear the shadows, bitch. I’m made of them. One night soon, I’ll climb out of one and slit your fucking throat.”

“What a lucky girl I am.” Madra feigned nonchalance, but I could see it, even from here, plain as day. Fisher’s venom had shaken her a little. “And what, pray tell, have I done to deserve such special attention from the likes of you?”

“You spayed my mate when she was a fucking child,” he seethed. “For that alone, I’ll make your undying existence an unending agony.“