She had not been queen for very long and, yet, she felt as though she belonged to Sylva in a way she’d never belonged anywhere before. The shadows were her home now and, for the first time in her existence, she had a purpose and a goal. Mortem had officially announced her role there among the orange and yellow leaves, securing her place as their Demon Queen. Oh, how her father would be so proud when he heard. A sickeningly sweet smile spread upon her face, lighting a cruelty deep within the pits of her eyes. Surely by now her nephew would have carried the news of her betrayal back to his precious little island, vomiting tales of their mistreatment into the ears of Brennen. The thought disgusted her, and she could not imagine being so heavily reliant upon another.
 
Slithering through the depths of the shadows, she sought a particular face amongst the trees. Crevan. A wolf-shifter. Hopeful that he had done as he’d been tasked by her, she awaited the tale that he could divulge. He was easy enough to find. Like many of the others, he was alone. Content to be so when not otherwise occupied. Her aura immediately sought him out. It delighted her to watch its bright glow as it wrapped around his cream tinted legs and traveled up towards the strength of him. Inching closer she emerged from her spot, her ears trained upon him eagerly.
 
“Hello, Crevan,” she greeted, her voice icy cold despite the warmth of the summer’s heat.

Crevan's reaction to her presence does not surprise her. Animalistic by nature the sand colored dog snarled and snapped in response to her approach. Unaffected by the display, the dark hued mare held her ground. Immortality was a funny thing. Death did not frighten her as it might have once, nor did the potential damage the wolf's teeth could inflict. Sharp words met her ears and her brow rose in response to it. He acted as though she could control the slick tongues of fear that licked the length of the stallion's jaw. The stronger her aura became the more she was discovering that it had acquired a mind of it's own.

You are right, Crevan, she agreed with him as she angled her head ever so slightly. Though I do have a slave, you are not one.

The mere fact that he felt it necessary to remind her of such a fact was entertaining. She made it a point to treat all sworn Sylvans with a certain reserved respect. Unless they found themselves deserving, she withheld her wrath and deposited upon those held captive. She found a certain pleasuring in dolling out torture and hearing the pleas of mercy. Crevan was a specialty all on his own and he was owed high praise for the role he played in her little task.

I didn't expect the cripple to be a challenge for my Hellraiser, she admitted. However, I do suspect that keeping her may prove a bit more difficult. I trust that you will ensure her escape is impossible?

Though posed as a question, she suspected that he would understand that she was not making an idle request. Wound was a political tool a weapon they could use against more than just her older brother. Warrick had resigned for longer than any other and Wound was one of his favorites. She smiled toward the glowing eyes of the wolf.

You have exceeded my expectations, Crevan. She praised, her voice lined with ice.