On the place set before the vile lord sat a severed, impaled tongue. I stared down at my dinner knife, unblinking, unsure if I’d attacked him. Then I noticed Wrath’s House dagger. It still vibrated from the force he’d used to shove it through the plate and then that far into the table. I let out a quiet breath, unable to look away. The lavender gemstones in the snake’s eyes glowed in fury. Or maybe bloodlust. I’d forgotten how the dagger gloried in its offerings. “Dinner is over,” the demon prince declared, his voice dangerously low. He yanked his bloodied blade free. “Get out.”
