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... eard that his mother had been taken to the hot palace and he was still not being allowed to leave his chamber.

He had barely enough information about what was happening in the palace, nor did he know how Luciana was doing. There was no way in hell he was going to let himself be confined in his room.

He tried to go through the window, and as soon as he touched it, it burned him harshly, the pain sending him flying away from there. He just remembered that his witch of a mother had ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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