To Bleed A Kingdom
Featuring a fierce heroine, an alpha immortal, and a quirky cast of fae and shifters, To Bleed A Kingdom is the first book in an addictively sexy, action packed, dark fantasy series.
For over thirty years, the city of Seboia has barricaded itself against the Gods Cursed kingdom of Brecca and their monstrous creations. Now, the Soulless' numbers are swelling and their attacks are rising in frequency — an ominous prelude for the darkness sure to come.
Captain of the Guard, Darius, must remain focused in his duty to protect his kingdom. But when a group of foreigners arrive in Seboia, their alluring leader becomes an unwanted distraction. A scarred beauty with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue, Lena rouses an all-consuming hunger within the Fire Immortal. A hunger he fears only she can satisfy.
Lena has traveled to Seboia for one purpose and one purpose alone. But when she discovers the Gods’ influence rooted within the very souls of its people, and meets the surly Captain who awakens long suppressed needs, she finds herself helplessly veering away from her sacred path.
As their enemies close in, Lena and Darius are thrown together by forces outside their control. And unless they can find a way to trust each other — and tame the desire scorching through their veins — their passion will set the kingdom ablaze in blood and flames.
“Creatures like me aren’t meant to be caged.
Only Unleashed”
Content Warning: Although To Bleed A Kingdom is humorous, fun, and a bit quirky, it also contains dark and violent elements that may be difficult for some. Triggers contained, but are not limited to, fantasy gore and violence, vulgar language, nonconsensual sex, graphic sex, and PTSD.
Excerpt
Prologue Queen Adelphia
All I see is blood. On the walls, the floors, the tables, and the ceiling, splattered and pooling on every available surface. Gagging as that distinctive metallic scent overpowers me, I cup a hand to my mouth and sweep my gaze through all the gore decorating the once grand, crystal room. Limbs severed. Throats slashed. Heads decapitated. Intestines dangling from gutted torsos. Splashes of orange, green, blue, and teal magic streaks across the room as fae and immortals alike defend against humans with…
I don't understand what I'm seeing. It almost appears as if the humans are deflecting their powers with just a thought, but that can't possibly be right. Humans don't have magic. Never once throughout Vanyimar history have the gods blessed their race as they have immortals and fae.
A splash of bright orange hair catches my eye and I flit my gaze to a female, a Water fae, judging by her sharpened ears and the single aquamarine jewel near the outer corner of each eye, backed against a wall. She raises a teal glittering hand and a blast of water shoots from her palm, spearing the throat of an attacking human. But with throat intact and no signs of drowning, the man doesn't miss a step as he raises his sword and slices clean through her neck. Her head tumbles to the floor along with her disconnected body, and the man turns his back on her, advancing on another.
Frozen within the doorway, my heart thunders against my chest as the sounds of the dying blast into me. Their screams, cries, grunts, and moans fuse one with the other to become a single roar reverberating into my ears. My eyes dart from one horrifying sight to the next until I spot the lone dead man sprawled at my feet. Inappropriately, I wonder how I was able to open the door, considering his location before I glance at his face and notice something strange.
At first I assume he is human, for no immortal has ever been killed by a human, but when I look near his open-eyed gaze, I notice he doesn’t lack the jewels of a human, but neither does he have the sharpened ears or the jeweled markings of a fae. He has a sapphire and starlight jewel near the outer corner of each eye. Sucking in a gasp, I realize he's not a man, but a male. More precisely, an immortal!
Breaths punching from my chest, my horror intensifies as I scrutinize all the dead littering the throne room floor. They’re all immortal and fae, not a single human amongst them. How can this be? It's not possible!
As much as I don't want to say it aloud, even to myself, we immortals and fae are superior. We're stronger, faster. We heal within moments and wield immense powers. To humans, we’re indestructible. Even their most highly trained men can't compete with our males.
Attempting to grasp the magnitude of this situation, my eyes pass over all the fae and immortals defending themselves with swords, daggers, and their Gifts, desperately fighting for their lives, but felled within moments. My gaze eventually lands on the Captain of our Guards, Atlas, our most skilled and feared warrior, locked in battle with a human. Their swords are crossed, and I hear the hiss of steel on steel as each one attempts to gain ground against the other.
Both gritting their teeth and holding their stance, their twining swords appear to be held at an impasse until the human's sword begins to slowly inch in Atlas's direction. The time seems endless, but no more than a moment passes until the human suddenly thrusts forward, his blade vanishing into Atlas' chest, only to reappear in a spray of crimson through his back. Atlas cries out and falls to one knee. Faster than I can blink, but before his dying body drops to the floor, the human cuts off that cry with a gurgle, slashing Atlas’ throat from ear to ear.
Tears streaming down my cheeks, body trembling, my shock fades as I desperately search for my male. Eyes darting from one end of the room to the next, my shaking becomes more violent the longer I search with no sign of his presence… until I spy a shock of platinum blonde hair in a sea of scarlet. I brace myself against the doorframe, my knees nearly giving out in relief at the sight of him alive. But then I look at him. Really see him as I ignore all the death and misery surrounding me to focus all my attention on him.
My heart stutters to a halt.
My husband, King Valor of Cascadonia is kneeling before his throne – a place where no king is ever intended to kneel – with one human on each side restraining his arms behind his back. His platinum blonde hair is disheveled and soaked, blood flowing through his immortal markings to drip down into his piercing green eyes. With a start, I realize the human he kneels before is none other than the human King of Brecca, King Rainier himself. Rainer says something to him that I’m unable to make out at this distance. Then he tosses his head back, roaring in laughter, before he raises his sword above Valor's head.
This isn’t real. This isn't happening.
Valor can’t die. He just can't! It's not meant to be this way. We're supposed to rule this kingdom together. To have long, fulfilling lives with a home full of children. Loving them and watching them grow until they marry and have their own babes. We're meant to fight, to play, to love, to cherish one another for hundreds of years at least, but we've barely had a decade together and I can already feel Fate's cruel fingers ripping it all from my grasp. All my hopes, my dreams, my future, disintegrating as if they are no more consequential than sand scattered in the wind.
No!
I shake my head, denying the truth. This is not the end; this is not my fate. Any moment now, Valor will disarm his human attackers and burn the traitorous bastards to ash. But as I watch him struggle to dislodge his captors and see the frustrated snarl on his face, I know that my dreams won't be coming true.
That uncanny sense Valor has whenever I enter a room has his head turning in my direction. Meeting his gaze, my mind flips from one scenario to the next as I imagine all the ways I can save him, but my sobs strengthen and a black hole of despair consumes me when I realize I can't save him. That I won't.
He smiles that smile that always manages to melt my heart, and nods his head in understanding. If our situations were reversed, he'd do no differently. Not because we don’t love each other, and not because we aren’t willing to die for the other, but because of the two beings we love more.
The battle falls to the wayside as I drown in his beautiful green eyes. So full of life and love. Until blood bubbles between his lips from the sword speared through his throat. His eyes widen momentarily, then just as quickly, glaze over in lifelessness.
I bolt, racing out the door and into the hall.
Don’t think. Don't feel. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don't think. Don't feel.
Rounding a corner, my heeled shoes wobble beneath my feet and I slam into a wall. Slowing, but not stopping, I remove one unstable shoe along with the other before pushing harder, using all my immortal strength to pump my legs as fast as possible.
A scream suddenly pierces the air, echoing throughout the palace, and my terror reignites at the realization that the battle is no longer contained to the throne room.
Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don't think. Don't feel.
My chest heaves, my heartbeat is erratic, and I just watched the love of my life slayed in front of me, but all my focus is on moving my feet faster. To get to them. Before someone else does.
I pass rooms burning with fire and filled with smoke. Another completely flooded. A screaming human attached to a wall, held captive by a carnivorous plant eating him alive. A fae shapeshifted into a wolf is staked to the floor, partially skinned and burned. Too many dead. Some human, but mostly immortal and fae. Immortals, human, fae. All screaming, crying, fighting, and dying, but I don't pause for any of them. No matter what I see, no matter what I hear, I don't stop. Not even when I round the last corner to my destination and see a human man fucking a fae female’s bloody corpse.
Door within sight, my feet skid across the wooden floor and I ram my shoulder into the frame, pushing the door open and shut all in a single motion.
The snick of the lock is deafening. My gasping breaths are abrasive to the ears in a room that should be filled with squeals and giggles yet is completely silent. No longer able to keep my terror at bay, I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead to the back of the door, praying that the gods haven't completely forsaken me.
Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe.
“Mama?”
A choked cry rips from my lungs. Slapping my palms to my face, I hurriedly swipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks and turn to face my sweet baby boy.
Green eyes stare questioningly back into mine from where he sits on the floor playing with wooden blocks. I see my mother in him with his soft heart, as well as how his power manifested identically to hers with his sapphire and starlight jewels. But when I look at his platinum blonde hair and bright green eyes, my heart constricts painfully with how much he looks like his father.
Attempting to control my breathing, I look to the crib where my two-month-old daughter, Aurora, is sound asleep.
They haven't made it here. Not yet.
“Mama?”
With a watery smile, I kneel down next to him. “Theon, where's Cinna?”
He points to the door. “Left.”
“She left?”
He nods.
I sit back on my heels, my mind roaming back to the corpse I saw being defiled in the hallway. With the panic lessening now that I've reached them, I can place a name to the ravaged face. Cinna. The children's wet nurse. She must have gone to see what all the noise was about.
Get to the Palace Keep.
Knowing we have only a few minutes at best, I compartmentalize my grief of another senseless death and stand. Retrieving a dagger from my thigh holster, the very same dagger Valor forbade me from leaving our chambers without, regardless of how much I argued against it, I stab my skirt above the knees, slashing all the way around until I have a large piece of fabric. Slipping the knife back into its holster, I wrap my chest several times with the cloth and place the still sleeping Aurora into the makeshift sling.
Patting Aurora's bum, I force a smile and grab Theon’s hand, tugging him to his feet. “We're going to play a little game today.”
His green eyes light up. “Game?”
“Yes.” I nod, pulling him behind me. “We're going to play hide and seek.”
“Daddy play?” he asks, his expression brightening.
My smile falters. “No, sweetie. Just you, me, and Aurora.”
“Where's Daddy?”
He's dead.
“He'll be along shortly,” I lie, careful to keep my smile in place.
We stop before the door connected to mine and Valor’s chambers and I place my ear against the wood, listening for any sounds. Hearing nothing, I unlock the door and peer down at Theon.
“We're going to play it a bit differently today. We have to move very fast and very quietly.” I swallow nervously before continuing. “You may see some frightening things out there, but you can’t make a sound. No matter what.”
His excitement dims and he nods in confusion, but says nothing more.
Tightening my grip on his hand, I inhale a fortifying breath and swing the door open.
Not a soul in sight.
Releasing that pent-up breath, I give Theon a reassuring squeeze and walk through the door, moving as quickly as his little legs can manage. Staring straight ahead, I ignore everything, shoving away each memory called forth as I pass through the adjoining rooms.
The dining area where Valor blew raspberries on Aurora’s belly while we had breakfast this very morning. Valor's office, where he would pretend not to notice the giggling Theon hiding beneath his desk. The receiving room where we snuggled up every night as a family while Valor recounted tales of gods, dragons, and legendary immortals’ mighty quests.
Ignoring it all, my eyes remain fixed on the door to my bedchambers, the door that will lead us to the secret passageway that leads to the Palace Keep. The door that will be our salvation. Hope rekindles as I step before that solid slab of oak. As I reach for the bronze handle, my fingers barely graze the cool metal before it swings open from the inside, revealing a man on the other side.
We both freeze, staring wide eyed at one another. Me in terror, him in shock that quickly shifts to excitement.
A slow smile spreads across his face and he cups his hands around his mouth, calling out, “I found them!” Gleeful eyes then drop to Theon and the man unsheathes his sword.
Horror like I've never known consumes me and I lurch towards Theon, curling my body over his and Aurora’s as the man thrusts his blade. A sharp, fiery pain suddenly pierces my side and I scream, Theon and Aurora’s cries an echo of my own.
“Shit.” He rips the blade free, and I scream again as he snatches me up by the wrist, snapping the bone with a crack as he tears me away from Theon.
“Fuck!” he barks, his wide eyes staring at my limp hand. “We weren’t supposed to hurt you. Only the heirs.”
At the mention of my children, my cries cut off and I bury my pain and panic as I summon my most dominant Gift. Palms shimmering a glittering teal, a stream of water streaks towards the man and invades his open mouth.
Considering how many times I witnessed the humans deflect magic tonight, one would assume it’d be no surprise when nothing happens. But I'm stunned that when I expect him to drown, he laughs instead, thoroughly unaffected.
“That won't work on me,” he sneers.
Rage and desperation fuel my determination to live and save my children at all costs. My power burns brighter, near blinding as I release a wave of water that swiftly surrounds him. Cycling faster and faster, the water cocoons his entire body in a speeding cyclone.
He laughs and stares at the cyclone in awe, mesmerized at the sight of the water recoiling from his skin when he slices a hand through it. “That won't work, either.”
“But this will.” Quickly unsheathing my dagger, I lunge forward and stab him in the eye.
“Aaaah!” He tugs the dagger free with a wet slurp, the blade tumbling from his grasp and clattering to the floor. He then slaps his hand to his now knifeless eye, blood gushing between his fingers as he drops to his knees and falls face first to the floor, dead before his face even touches the wood.
Knowing that our location has been compromised, I grab a sobbing Theon and carry him under my arm, running towards the door. Kicking the dead human aside, I rush into mine and Valor’s bedchamber, slam the door shut, lock it, and bolt across the room to the wall beside my bed. Placing Theon on his feet, I flatten my uninjured hand on the wall, searching for the groove that unlatches the hidden door. The sound of excited shouts and multiple sets of boots begin pounding in our direction. Theon sobs harder, Aurora joining him.
Panic crawls up the back of my throat as I swipe my hand back and forth with no sign of the latch.
Where is it?!
Theon screams and I jolt at the first strike against the door, a cold sweat beading across my brow as I move my hands faster and faster until … finally! Fingertips curving beneath the groove, I unlatch the door to the hidden passageway and shove Theon through.
As I take my first step to enter the passageway, the door to my bedchamber begins to splinter. I pause, my foot hovering above the threshold as I peer down at my son.
They know I'm here, but they don't know they are. Even if they heard their cries, I could say they were my own. If they come in here and can't find me, they'll search and find the hidden door.
A fierceness only a mother can feel engulfs me as I look down at my terrified son. Staring into the exact replica of his father's dark green eyes overflowing with tears, I realize I can't go with him. They might not discover the passageway. They may even give up their search eventually. But I'm not willing to take the risk.
Removing Aurora, I quickly unwrap the sling and wrap it around Theon’s body, placing a trembling and sobbing Aurora inside it.
“Mama?” Confused eyes dart between me and Aurora.
“Take your sister and follow the passageway until it ends,” I say, praying that he’ll be able to bear her weight. “There's a room at the end of the corridor with beds and food. There's lots of toys, too! I'll come and find you when I can.”
His sobs worsen and he gasps. “No!”
“I can't go with you, baby,” I say with an apologetic smile.
Crouching before them, I press my lips to Aurora’s forehead and hug them both tightly to my chest, feeling the wetness of tears as I place a soft kiss on Theon’s chubby cheek.
“I'll find you,” I whisper. “I promise.” Heart shattering, I stand to my feet and peer down at him. “Run, Theon.”
Then I shut the door on Aurora's cries and Theon’s anguished face, just as a worn boot punches through the broken door.
*****
Adrenaline wavering, I cradle my broken wrist to my chest and place my opposite hand against the wound on my side, feeling my life force slither between the webbing of my fingers as I stumble before my bed and collapse to my knees. Suffering from grief, pain, heartbreak, and exhaustion, I bow my head and watch my blood slowly pool onto the oak wood floors, lacking the strength to acknowledge the methodical footsteps slowly approaching.
“Lift her,” a deep voice demands.
Rough hands drag me to my feet and I release a strangled cry. Slowly lifting my head, I meet the glacial-eyed stare of the Savage King himself, King Rainier.
His face betrays no emotion as he scrutinizes me from head to toe. “She's wounded,” he coldly states. “Were my orders not clear when I said no harm is to come to her?” His jaw hardens. “Find who did this.”
The greasy man standing beside him shuffles his feet. “I think it was Ptorik.”
Rainier glances over his shoulder, seeing the dead body beside the doorway. “I'm assuming that's Ptorik?” Rainier asks, returning his cruel gaze to mine.
The greasy man nods his head.
“And whose responsibility was it to ensure my orders were executed properly?”
Silence.
“Who?” Rainier growls.
“M-m-mine,” the greasy man stutters.
The air thickens menacingly as everyone holds their breath for Rainier’s response.
“You disobeyed me.”
Without breaking my gaze, Rainer darts his hand out and crushes the man’s throat with a speed and strength unnatural for a human. Mouth gaping like a fish, the man stumbles to his knees while clutching his throat and collapses to the floor, squirming desperately for breath.
“Disobedience is an act of betrayal,” Rainier tosses over his shoulder to the gangly man at his back. “There's no place for disloyalty in my court.” Stepping forward, Rainier’s lips tug up into a savage grin as he leers at me. “Hello, Your Majesty.”
Scanning his handsome face, staring into those cruel glacial blue eyes so full of triumph, I wonder how I was ever able to endure his presence. Sweeping my gaze over his black hair that almost appears blue, I suck in a pained breath when I see the gold crown atop his head, studded with orange topaz and starlight jewels and speckled with blood. My stomach roils into itself when I realize whose blood it's speckled with. Valor's blood. Valor’s crown.
“How?” I don't need to ask why. Cascadonia is a prosperous kingdom. Mild weather, a fruitful growing season, rich in coin and beauty. As for Rainier’s kingdom, Brecca is an arctic wasteland. An inhospitable landscape made even harsher for the human dominated kingdom where they have no fae or immortal citizens to alleviate the strain. Rainier may be a king, but he’s a king of a barren land and destitute people. A king of nothing.
Rainier smiles. “The Goddess of Death gifted us absolute protection against your power.”
I scoff, a flash of fire searing through my wound with the act. “We are Uriella’s favored. Her crown jewels. Desdemona would never defy her so openly.” None of the gods would.
“Oh, yes!” He laughs, a rumbling, arrogant sound. “The Goddess of Life's golden pets. But it would seem you are no longer her crown jewels. For you are not from her loins, and she has born a son. With Azazel, no less.”
“Impossible,” I breathe. “The Stars forbid it.”
Always one for showmanship, he waves a finger, tsking. “The Stars are fickle entities and will do as they please. And what they wish for is for the Mother of Life and the Creator of All to bear a babe.”
If this is true, it will upset the balance even more than it already is. Any child born from that union would have limitless power. Power that could rival all the gods, maybe even the Stars themselves. Too much power for one being. An abomination. One that the gods would not allow to live.
Stars save us.
“Ah.” Rainier chuckles in glee. “You see it now, don’t you? Uriella’s favor means little to the gods when they’re already condemned by hunting her only natural born child.”
“What does Desdemona get out of this agreement?” I ask, swallowing thickly, seeing now this is so much more than a battle between kingdoms, but a war against gods. “I doubt she needs a human for anything.”
His face shudders. “Her plans are not your concern. What should be, is that Desdemona granted me a taste of her power, giving me the means to conquer Cascadonia. And when I prove my loyalty to her, she’ll bestow her full blessing on Brecca and we will be the ones favored by the gods.”
I laugh bitterly, blood spurting from my wound as the vibrations tear it open even more. “You mean you'll be her slaves.”
Glacial blue orbs narrow. “A faithful servant. And with her guiding hand, I’ll rule over all of Vanyimar.”
Walking toward me, he stops a few paces away, speaking in an alarmingly quiet tone. “Where are your children?”
Lifting my chin, I say nothing, my hard gaze boring into his cruel one.
“If you tell me, I'll spare your life.” Silence. “I know you've hidden them somewhere.” His lips tighten. “I'll find them one way or another. At least this way you can live.”
Rainier’s eyes suddenly brighten, smiling in triumph when I lean forward. My shoulder and wrists screaming, I curse the man shackling my wrists between his impossibly strong grip as I overextend my arms and arch toward Rainier. “Fuck. You.”
That arrogant smile falls, his gaze hardening as he takes two large strides towards me, stopping when the tips of his shoes rest against my bare toes. Leaving only a breadth of space between us, he shapes his hand as if it's a spear, and an agonized scream tears from my throat when he stabs his hand into the seam of my wound, twisting his fingers.
Screaming and sobbing, my vision wavers and I begin to lose consciousness. Left hand still torturing me, his other strokes my hair with mock affection. “Shh shh… It's alright,” he soothes. “Tell me where the children are and the pain will stop.”
“I don't know!”
“You don't know?”
“No!” I scream on a sob, desperate for the pain to end, but not desperate enough to betray my children.
He pulls his fingers from my wound and gently places his blood-slicked hand upon my cheek along with the other, delicately cradling my face.
“You're lying.” Blue eyes roam my face. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs. “You're even a legend amongst immortals, did you know that? They say your beauty could rival Uriella herself.” He traces his finger softly down my cheek as his eyes glaze over in lust, his voice hoarsening. “You truly are stunning.”
Revolted by his touch, I jerk my head from his grip and spit on his face.
Rainier stills, and a foreboding silence fills the room as he slowly wipes the glob off his cheek. Then his face contorts into a snarl and he grips my chin hard enough to break bones. Eyes maddened from rage he snarls, “Where are they?”
Tremors racking my body, I shake my head as much as I’m capable within his bruising grip.
A vicious light suddenly flashes within his eyes. Still gripping my chin, he slowly slides his opposite hand along my neck, his fingers trailing down my collarbone. Once he reaches the top of my dress, my chest clenches in fear as I struggle to free my arms with no success.
He rips the top of my gown, my breasts bouncing free as he slips his hand beneath one, cupping it. As affectionate as a lover, he slowly traces my areola and I swallow back bile as he tweaks my nipple to a pebbled state. Spreading his hand to encompass my entire breast, I cry out once he begins kneading it. But that cry quickly turns to a torturous scream when he viciously clenches my breast, then twists.
Shutting his eyes, he rests his forehead against mine and I feel the heat of his breath caress my face when he releases a hunger-fueled groan.
“Tell me where they are,” he demands, his voice thickened with lust. “I cannot rule Cascadonia uncontested while your children still live.”
All my pain, all my grief, all my fear and disgust swirls together, coalescing into an unmanageable whirl of chaos that swiftly morphs into a volatile mixture of rage and hate.
Pale green eyes expressing every ounce of loathing for him and his despicable race, I scream, “Never! I'll never tell you!” With heaving breaths, I promise, “You'll never find my children and you'll never rule Cascadonia. Even with a goddess’s favor.” I laugh, a crazed, bitter sound. “No immortal or fae will ever bow to a filthy human.”
Rainier’s features contort into a blistering rage and he backhands me, throwing me from my captor’s grip to land face first on top of the bed. Head swimming and vision full of stars, I'm unable to regain my senses before I feel the weight of Rainier’s body lying atop my back, pushing me into the bed.
“You always were a sanctimonious little bitch, weren't you?” he says scornfully. “Never knew when to keep your mouth shut. Valor thought you to be spirited.” He laughs. “What a fool he was. Never realized that bitches must be trained to obey.”
He grinds his growing erection against my ass, prodding me. I squirm, crying out when he fists his hand into my hair and jerks my head back, licking up the column of my arched throat.
Pressing his lips to the lobe of my ear, he growls, “A bitch must be broken before she learns to heel."
Placing his hand across the back of my head, he crushes my face into the mattress before shoving off.
“Hold her.”
The lifting of his weight is quickly replaced by hands pressed upon my upper back. Accompanied by the sounds of a belt unbuckling and clothes rustling, Rainier sneers, “I bet you’ve never been fucked by a human cock before. Never demeaned yourself that way, have you?”
When I hear a ripping sound and a cool breeze brush my lower region, a feeling of dread slithers within me as I fight to remove the hands holding me down to no avail. Feeling his weight return along my back, I lock my ankles to prevent the inevitable, but his thighs easily spread my own.
“Don't worry, Your Highness. I’ll solve that issue for you,” he promises, right before I feel a ripping, burning pain as he forcefully invades my body.
Savagely tearing apart my lower half, my breath whooshes from my lungs and I suck in another, releasing a bloodcurdling scream as he ruts on me like a feral animal. Screaming and sobbing, I try to buck, scratch, kick and punch, but all I manage to do is squirm minutely and claw at the bedding.
My disgust and devastation at being violated, along with the feeling of filth, of Rainier’s defilement of my body and his perversion of such a sacred act, creates a fissure in my soul. I begin to weep.
Head bobbing, I stare unseeing at the wall violently wavering back and forth due to his manic thrusts, and I stop fighting. Tears drying, body limpening, I choose to see nothing, to hear nothing, to feel nothing. Instead, I float outside my body and imagine a world where my husband isn't dead, my children are safe, my home isn't overrun by enemies, and I can't feel a human usurper swelling inside me now, grunting his release. He softens inside me before I feel the slippery withdrawal of him, but all I do is stare, seeing nothing.
At the sound of him buckling his belt, I feel his seed slither down my thighs and feel the heat of his breath between my thighs as he says to the other man, “Look at that pretty cunt dripping with my cum.”
He laughs manically, his words and actions intended to demean, but they no longer have the ability to wound me. Even when I hear an earsplitting roar and his laughter abruptly cuts off, his weight slamming on top of me and crushing me into the bed, obscuring my vision.
With the sounds of shouts and the clashing of swords that quickly cease, I do nothing. I see nothing. I feel nothing. Not even when the weight is removed and a wide eyed Cascadonia guard fills my vision.
“Your Highness!” He turns his head to speak to another. “It's her! It's the Queen!”
Another roar, followed by a wet squelching sound, and the guard’s gaze snaps above my head. “Get him out of here!”
“Are you injured?” the guard asks, returning his gaze to me.
I say nothing.
At my silence, timid hands begin to roam my body, only for him to quickly jerk them back, horror lining his face as he stares at the blood slickening his fingers.
“She needs a healer!”
A dark-skinned arm suddenly snaps out, fisting the back of the guard's tunic and throwing him across the room. Those very same arms lift me off the bed, careful not to jostle my wounds, and cradle me to his chest.
With the swaying motion of the guard carrying me towards the door, my eyelids begin to descend and my body starts to shut down. But I quickly snap them open when I notice a lone male standing in the corner near the door.
At first, I assume him to be one of the guards, but then I notice his clothing. His human clothing. Battling consciousness, I force my eyes to remain open once I realize I recognize him. He's one of the humans who restrained Valor when he was killed, but… he's not a human at all.
With his sun kissed skin, pillowy lips, and blonde, wavy hair, he’s the most attractive male I’ve ever seen. His luminous, bluish silver eyes are stunning, yet his markings are strange and he lacks the two or four jewels that would signify his power as immortal or fae. He's not human, but he's not fae or immortal, either. He's something other. But what he is doesn't concern me. All that does is he’s just as responsible as Rainier for my husband's death.
I attempt to signal the guards to the traitor in our midst; call out, whisper, even issue a small grunt, but with the remainder of my blood seeping from my wounds, my lips refuse to shape the words. Powerless and unmoving, I can only watch as the male weeps silently. Struggling to contain the consciousness trickling between my fingers, only a sliver of my vision remains as the guard carrying me nears him. That's when an impossible realization dawns on me. The guards aren't even aware of this creature. It's as if he’s concealed himself from everyone’s sight but my own, and he's as much of a specter as my dear Valor.
Tearing his gaze from mine, the weeping male ambles toward the door. And it’s as he vanishes over the threshold, but before my eyes slide shut, I’m finally able to sense the spark of new life bloom within my womb.
34 Years Later
Chapter 1
Darius
With a swipe of my sword, I slice through the Soulless’ neck, severing bone and sinew along with the creature's connection to its master. Tugging a cloth from my pocket, I wipe away the Soulless’ black blood from my blade, watching its cloak of ruby flecked, black shadows disperse on the wind, returning to its patron’s goddess as the undead’s body returns to its natural state.
Dead. Unanimated. Decomposing. No more glowing red eyes, no more death magic, and no more insatiable need for blood. Just as it should be. Just as it should have always been.
Hearing a screech, I turn toward the sound and find a Soulless snapping at Kace’s neck. The Nature fae’s blue eyes are widened comically as he extends his arm to keep the mindless creature at bay. When his emerald jewels illuminate, I watch and wait, expecting him to use his Nature magic to defend himself. But I'm proven wrong when the battle hardened fae begins slapping at the demon’s face, screeching like a female. Sighing, I press my boot to the mud-slicked ground, ready to assist, when a sword suddenly spears through its skull.
Griffin, a large male with cropped brown hair and the markings of an Air immortal with a sapphire and starlight jewel near the outer corner of each eye, appears calm and collected as he tugs the sword free from the creature's skull. Even when the Soulless’ body slides down Kace’s, leaving a trail of putrid body fluids in its wake.
“Oh, gods!” Kace snaps forward on a gag, retching over the crumbled dead.
“You probably shouldn't be hanging your head directly over its rotting corpse,” Griffin says, his lumbering footsteps rising in volume until he reaches my side. “I imagine the scent of decay is much more potent when you’re all but rubbing your nose in it.” He shrugs, seeming indifferent. “Just a suggestion.”
Intelligent enough to accept his advice, Kace kicks the Soulless away, then resumes his heaving.
Giving Kace a moment to himself, I look over all the lifeless creatures scattered across the forest floor. Several appear just as they always do. Emaciated, hairless, with leathery, sunken skin. Of course, one could never forget their clawed hands and dagger-like fangs, made even deadlier when their jaw widens enough to swallow an adult male's head whole. Better to suck your blood and your soul along with it, I suppose. Most of them obviously passed some time ago, but for some, the lack of decomposition is concerning. They still have patches of hair and their skin oozes as if transitioning to their companions' leathery state. They’re fresh, which means they haven't been dead long. It's rare to find freshly deceased Soulless, and there's four in this party alone.
Where did you come from?
They must have come from somewhere, and these Soulless have been dead no more than a month. Eyeing the dead's clothing, I notice their leather vest and trousers. A material not made available to Brecca – home to the Soulless’ masters – but guaranteed to be in any male Cascadonian's wardrobe. Already knowing there aren’t any missing persons or deaths unaccounted for in Cascadonia, I wonder if there have been any missives from our neighboring kingdoms reporting differently. I would hope they would relay this or any other information regarding Soulless activity within their borders, but kings and queens never carry much thought for anyone but themselves. No matter how noble they present themselves.
No answers forthcoming, I search through the trees for the several hundred spans-tall stone wall surrounding the capital city of Cascadonia, thinking of all the inhabitants residing within. All the souls I'm oathbound to protect.
Too close.
The Gods Cursed are getting bolder. Increasing in frequency and in larger numbers, the masters to the Soulless are commanding them practically to our gates. This month alone we've had three attacks, not including this one. And with the newly dead adding to their ranks, it's vital we learn where these new creatures originally came from.
Unsettled, I return my gaze to Kace, who’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I got it in my mouth,” Kace says, his eyes rounded in horror.
I cringe. “What?”
“I got it in my mouth!” He jabs a finger at the dead creature. “The Soulless. I got its body juices in my mouth. Ach!” He hunches over and gags for a moment more, then straightens, attempting to compose himself, but still appearing a bit green.
“Then maybe you should have summoned your Gift instead of slapping at it like a hysterical female,” I chastise. “Or fought it off like the trained warrior you are.”
“I panicked! I've never had one get close enough to bite me.” He pauses, his brow furrowing. “There was what? Eight of them? We’ve never fought that many at once.”
“No, we haven’t.” Blowing out a weary breath, I turn away from Kace and begin making my way back toward the city gates, Kace and Griffin following behind.
“Their numbers are increasing,” Griffin echoes my thoughts.
I nod in agreement, but say nothing more, listening to the crunch of Fall leaves beneath our boots.
“They had several new Soulless in this group,” Kace notes.
“Four,” Griffin adds.
“Their clothing… it isn't Breccan,” Kace says, his body popping in and out of view as he slips between trees. “Where did they come from? What kingdom?”
“I don't know,” I reply through gritted teeth, hating that I can’t give him a definitive answer. Hating even more what I suspect that answer may be.
“The Kings Council is today,” Griffin reminds me.
Rubbing my eyes, I groan internally at the thought of enduring another Kings Council meeting, wishing there was some way I could avoid another session of listening to the petty squabbles and drunken snide comments of the ruling monarchs of Vanyimar. But as acting Captain of the Guard, my presence is, unfortunately, mandatory.
Griffin places a large hand on my shoulder, pivoting me to face him. “This affects every kingdom, Darius. You must bring it to their attention.” He pauses, conveying the severity of his thoughts with an arch of a brow. “Despite what orders you may receive.”
Often others look at the quiet, muscular immortal who prefers his own company and assume him to be dim-witted. Yet, Griffin is anything but. He may not speak much, but when he does, his words are carefully selected and delivered with a keen intelligence that I've not found in another. I wouldn't dare to refuse his advice.
Mentally preparing myself for the punishment I’m sure to receive, I jerk my head in assent.
“At least this will give the rulers something else to argue over,” Kace says, chuckling darkly as he rushes past. “Besides which one of them has the biggest cock.”
A fae born in the lower class, Kace has always held an aversion towards royals and the members of nobility. Son of a courtesan and his father’s identity unknown, his upbringing was darker than most.
Hungry and poor, Kace was no more than a child when he began slinging pots, shining boots, and occasionally pick pocketing. He has a first-hand account to the cruelty and selfishness of the nobility towards those less fortunate.
“You do know males aren’t the only ones on the Council, right?” I ask Kace, watching him swing from tree to tree. “It also contains Queen Celene and Queen Adelphia.”
“Oh, yes. I know all about Queen Celene,” he drawls her name, bowing beneath a rather thin looking branch before swinging to another.
“You don't know a godsdamn thing about her.” I chuckle, tossing a stick at him that he dodges easily enough. “That female would eat you alive.”
Dropping to the ground, he bounces on the balls of his feet, his eyes glimmering. “I would love for her to eat me. Do you think she can shapeshift just her throat? She is the Shapeshifter Queen. Oh, gods!” He groans, biting his fist. “She could literally gobble my entire dick. Swallow it whole!”
Griffin chuckles. “Her being a queen, and you being…” He pauses, gesturing towards Kace with a wave of his hand, “you, I doubt you’ll be able to get near enough to ask.” Inhaling a deep breath, he cringes. “And with the scent currently wafting off you, she’d mistake you for a Soulless and kill you on the spot.”
Griffin and I laugh, but Kace appears genuinely shocked at his words.
“I’ll have you know I’m a fantastic lover. A-ma-zing,” he says with a proud lilt to his chin. “Queen Celene should feel honored to have a male such as myself in her bed.” He scrunches his nose in disgust, glancing down at his guards vest slickened with black blood. “Even if I am smothered in Soulless juices.”
Griffin smirks. “No matter how amazing you are, her guards won't allow you anywhere near her.”
“No, no. You're right.” He rubs his chin, mumbling as he walks past. “I need to study the rotation of her guards. Find their weakness. Lie in wait for my chance to sweep her off her feet. Then, we'll get married and make a bunch of panther babies.” Cocking his head to the side, he scrunches his face in thought. “Or would they be cubs? I'm not exactly sure how that works. In the meantime, I'll check the brothel. There must be at least one shapeshifter there.”
Griffin and I share an amused look, having no words in response to the delusional male babbling to himself. Until Kace shouts over his shoulder, “And we'll live happily ever after… because I’m fucking amazing!”
Unsure if he's trying to convince us or himself, but already knowing it's best not to encourage him, we silently follow the ridiculous fae back to the city gates.
*****
At the sound of the creaking door, all conversations cease and the room falls silent. Pausing over the threshold, I look up and see every pair of royal eyes staring back at me. Grumbling a curse, I quickly shut the door and round the large oval table centered within the room, barely taking notice of the dark oak, honeycombed walls, the unlit Gods Light sconces arrayed between the black and gold stitched tapestries, the Kings Council crest stitched within, and the view of the two moons through the floor-to-ceiling, arched windows. Instead, my head remains high as I make my way toward the Cascadonian heir.
It took me much longer than I initially planned to return from patrol, and once I did finally arrive back to my chambers, the sun had already begun its daily descent. In no state to appear before royalty, I quickly washed and dressed, but by the time I left my rooms, it was already past time for the Kings Council to begin.
Once I'm seated, the silence ends and the royals return to their previous discussions. Chatting and laughing in all their finery and jewels, it appears my lateness is already forgotten.
Queen Celene of Arcadia tosses her head back, laughing. Her long black hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her flickering copper and starlight jewels illuminate her brown eyes and tan face. Wearing a slinky black, form-fitting dress, it looks like something one might wear to a brothel, but judging by the quality of fabric and copper gems stitched within, it's not a gown even the highest paid courtesan could possibly afford. Kace wasn’t mistaken in her seductive beauty, but she’s also just as dangerous as I insinuated, if not more so. The Shapeshifter Queen is intelligent, calculating, and just as lethal as the predatory black panther she often favors.
I chuckle to myself when I see the besotted expression on the face of the monarch with whom Celene is speaking. The Nature immortal of Ravaryn, King Elidyr, watches Celene as if he’s moments away from professing his undying love. His flowing green tunic matches the forest green of his eyes and the emerald and starlight jewels accenting his face. An ally of Cascadonia, Elidyr has always been one of my favorites among the monarchs. Most rulers tended to ignore my presence, but he was always kind and playful with me, even as a child. He's a good male and an even better king.
The male seated at the opposite end of the table, King Olivier of Egralong, couldn't contrast more to Elidyr. Olivier is as stoic as ever, with his razor thin, black hair and the menacing scar slicing down through his eyebrow, past his orange topaz and starlight jewel, to end beneath his eye. The sensible ruler is underdressed compared to the others, wearing an all-black tunic and matching leather trousers, but that’s not unusual. The Fire King tends to gravitate towards practicality rather than the frivolous. Olivier may seem harsh with his curt and blunt speech and apathetic manner, but he's honest and fair, and always does what's in the best interest of his people. There’s not a soul alive who can say the same about the king seated beside him.
To some, King Luthais of Raetia is considered attractive, as most immortals are, with his blonde hair, charming smile, and lean, fit build. To others, the arrogant Air immortal is a vicious snake. But whereas Celene’s lethality is only in response to those dense enough to threaten her or her people, Luthais is cruel and brutal, evidenced by his own citizens' comparison of him to the Savage King himself.
Passing my gaze over the oak table, I find the lone empty chair that hasn't been used since before the Breccans attacked. King Rainier of Brecca was the last man to be seated in that chair, and he'll be the last human to ever grace this table.
I grind my teeth at the sight of the Savage King's empty chair, thinking of all the pain and death he's caused for so many. Myself included.
After the Battle of Brecca was extinguished and their King was killed, Queen Adelphia, along with the other rulers, cut off all trade and communication with Brecca. All men who were captured were immediately executed for their treasonous acts, but unfortunately a few escaped. Baffled by their newfound strength and their ability to neutralize our magic, all members of the Kings Council prepared for war against the aggressive humans, but all plans were waylaid when they arrived.
When the first Soulless came through the Cursed Woods, we weren’t sure what they were. Some believed them to be ill, but only when the first person was bitten and they turned themselves, did we realize what they were: Demons.
Immortals and fae, as well as our human inhabitants, fought and died as they hacked, stabbed, and burned the creatures, but they still kept coming. It took many deaths to realize that the only way to kill the creatures was to stab it in the heart or brain. Then they came in waves.
It was a frightening time for our kingdoms, not knowing where these demons came from or how they came to be, until we noticed the lone living creature amongst the undead. The man was a human, stronger and faster than any immortal, and he carried the Goddess of Death’s mark upon his cheek, a swirled rune filled with ruby flecked, black shadows. Seeing Death’s rune marking his cheek, we realized then that even though King Rainier had lost the Battle of Brecca and didn’t hold up his end of the goddess’ bargain, Desdemona had still chosen to grant her Gifts to Brecca.
But a Cursed Gift it was.
With glowing crimson eyes and extended fangs, the Gods Cursed man was more powerful than any being we have ever encountered before as he wielded his Death Shadows without recourse, killing dozens with a single flick of his wrist. He commanded his troops of Soulless and he, too, barbarically drank the blood of an immortal. And once the Cursed bled him dry, we watched in horror as the immortal’s discarded, twitching corpse transitioned right before our eyes into a feral Soulless.
Nothing we did to the Gods Cursed would kill him. Not even when we stabbed him in the heart or brain like we did his Soulless slaves. At this point, having no way to attack or defend against the Cursed, our outlook was bleak. Until, to everyone's astonishment, the Gods Cursed eventually just left, unharmed and of his own accord, leaving behind dozens of Soulless. We then destroyed all the remaining Soulless, and when it appeared as if the attacks had ended, we built our walls and fortified our defenses.
Fortunately, we've seen less than a handful of Gods Cursed in the last thirty-four years. They don’t venture far from Brecca, and besides those who call the Mandala Mountains and the Cursed Woods home, Soulless attacks are few and far between. That’s why today’s events are so alarming. The frequency and numbers of the attacks could be a precursor to change. A change that won't bode well for anyone.
Sensing the frosty gaze boring into the side of my cheek, I glance in the direction of the hosting monarch and realize my error.
Queen Adelphia of Cascadonia sits regally in her crystal throne-like chair at the head of the table. Garbed in a teal and gold stitched gown, her long blonde hair is partially pinned up with small braids intertwined throughout. With high cheekbones, porcelain skin, and pale green eyes, she's considered gorgeous even amongst our attractive race. And judging off the Water immortal’s scowl and her illuminated aquamarine and starlight jewels, she clearly has no intention of forgiving me.
Should've come directly from patrol, covered in Soulless blood.
After staring at me long enough to convey her displeasure, she returns her attention to the adjoining royals.
Theon leans into me, ducking his head to whisper in my ear. “You're late.”
“I'm well aware.”
“She's furious.”
I snort. “When is she not furious with me?” Staring at the center of the table, I set my elbow on the armrest and rest my chin in my palm, partially shielding my lips. “I ran into trouble during patrol.”
“You shouldn't have scheduled yourself the same day as a Kings Council,” he says, shaking his head in exasperation. “You shouldn't even be patrolling. You're the Captain of the Guards. Delegate.”
Ignoring the Prince’s reprimand, I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “There was an ambush.”
He stiffens, his brows pinching. “That's the fourth time this month.”
Nodding my head, I notice the royals’ discussions beginning to taper off. “Did you speak with her?”
Sighing, Theon leans back in his chair and turns away, avoiding my gaze. “Yes.”
When he adds nothing more, I press, “Well?”
“She's not planning to touch on the topic today,” he grudgingly admits, eyeing me with a dubious expression.
“Why the fuck not?” I snap.
“Lower your voice,” he warns, his dark green eyes anxiously bouncing from one ruler to the next.
Noticing I’ve caught the attention of the rulers nearby, including Queen Adelphia herself, I inhale a deep, calming breath.
“She thinks it makes us appear weak,” Theon says. “She won't look weak in front of the other monarchs.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “I don't care how it makes us look. They have to prepare.” Gesturing to the royals with a jerk of my hand, I hiss, “How can they protect their people if they're not even made aware?”
“I agree with you,” he says in a soothing tone, patting my arm. “But she won't change her mind.” Shaking his head, he returns his gaze forward, dismissing me.
Frustrated, I listen to the tedious discussions of the Kings Council. Not of defenses, trade, or even the welfare of their people. Oh no, the most powerful beings of Vanyimar gossip about gowns, balls, and limber new mistresses. Not a single topic of substance.
Temper spiking with each moment that passes, I have no more shits left to give when everyone stands to their feet, signaling the end of the meeting.
“I'd like to bring a matter to everyone’s attention.”
They pause halfway out of their chairs and stare, blinking slowly. I can only assume their surprise is due to the fact that I've never uttered a single word during these meetings, but I could be wrong.
Queen Adelphia hasn’t moved to stand, but at my words her back stiffens and her head slowly swivels in my direction. “I believe we've covered every topic scheduled today,” she bites out.
I highly doubt which king is fucking which servant was a scheduled topic of discussion.
“I'll have to insist.” Based off the storm brewing within her gaze, if there weren't others present to witness it, I have no doubt she would’ve blasted me with a wave of water, shattering my bones and pulverizing my organs in the process.
Dismissing her without a second thought, I return my attention forward, waiting patiently for the monarchs to return to their seats and all eyes to focus on me. “When I was on patrol today, me and two other guards were ambushed by a group of Soulless.”
“That's not uncommon,” Queen Celene of Arcadia says, her lips turned down into a confused frown. “Your borders are pressed up against the Cursed Woods. Your people hunt there regularly.”
Tapping my finger on the armrest, I pause before adding, “There were eight of them.”
Ravaryn’s King Elidyr startles and his eyes widen. “Eight?”
I nod. “Not only that, but four of them appeared to be newly dead.”
The rulers glance between each other, concern radiating from them until booming laughter draws all our gazes.
“How can you tell they're newly dead?” King Luthais of Raetia says on a lingering laugh. “Dead is dead.'”
“They were in an early stage of decomposition,” I reply, careful to keep my tone neutral in spite of my rising anger. “Unlike the Soulless we more commonly encounter.”
Elidyr rubs his jaw. “That is unsettling.”
“Have there been any disappearance within your kingdoms?” I ask. “Any new attacks we've not been made aware of?”
All shake their heads in answer.
Luthais crosses his legs, lounging back in his chair with an arrogant smirk. “It's obvious they came from Brecca.”
Annoyed, I clench my hands into fists, but my expression remains impassive. “Their clothing wasn’t that of the humans. The creatures appeared to have originally come from one of our kingdoms.”
Luthais arches a brow. “You're basing this off their clothing?”
“It's unlikely they undress themselves before they’re killed,” Celene says with a roll of her eyes, just as irritated with the insufferable immortal as I am.
“Of course not,” he replies, pasting on that charming smile. “But I imagine their clothes were dirty and worn. One couldn't possibly be able to determine which kingdom they came from based off such little information.”
“It's an issue we need to address,” I snap, at my wits end with the fool's attempts to undermine me.
Elidyr leans forward and places his clasped hands on the table. “What do you propose we do?”
Relieved to move this discussion forward, I direct my answer to him. “More patrols, fortify our defenses, and notify the people.” Bracing myself, I inhale a long breath through my nostrils and say what I know will be the most difficult for the rulers to accept. “I also recommend sending a scouting party up the Mandala Mountains.”
A strained silence thickens the air as they all stare at me in shock.
“That's a dangerous task to undertake, based on such scant information,” King Olivier of Egralong says, his face betraying no emotion.
Feeling as if foreboding claws scrape across my neck, I straighten in my seat and meet each of their gazes. “The frequency of attacks are increasing and the Soulless are adding to their ranks. Possibly from our very own citizens.”
Stabbing my finger onto the oak table, I continue. “I believe the Gods Cursed are planning something, and we need to know what that is. They have been quiet for too long, but why is that?” I ask, resting my arms on the table and clasping my hands together. “They hate us just as much as we do them, and with no known way to kill them, they may as well be indestructible. They could slaughter us all, yet they've done nothing.” Shaking my head, my lips flatten to an angry line. “No, that's not right. They've been waiting. Plotting. But plotting what?” I meet each pair of eyes as I add to the gravity. “We must search for these answers, or else I fear the bloodshed will be one from which we won't recover.”
Silence reigns while they ponder my words.
“Where was this ambush?” Elidyr asks. “The one from today.”
“Practically at our gates.”
“So close,” Celene mumbles, her fingertips pressed to her lips.
Hope rises in me as I watch them consider my plans, only for it to quickly dwindle.
“I commend you on your dedication to your position,” Luthais says in a tone thickened with sarcasm. “But the Cursed haven't been seen nor heard from in over thirty years, besides the occasional Soulless attacks that are quietly quelled. Why would I send my people across the border when I know it would not only be a death wish, but would most likely provoke the Gods Cursed?” I open my mouth to speak, but he barrels on. “Regarding the matter of how close they are to your gates… I would assume that to be an isolated security issue within your own kingdom.”
I stiffen, offended he would assume my guards are inadequate or lacking in any way. “There are constant patrols, and my guards are highly trained.”
“I'm sure they are.” He dismisses me with a regal flick of his hand. “This very well may be simply an unusual occurrence. Or…. it may be due to a larger issue.”
“Your meaning?” Adelphia asks, her tone laced with tightly leashed anger.
Luthais exhales a long, dramatic sigh. “I’d rather not say, but as a friend of Cascadonia, I'd be remiss if I didn't. When there is instability or weakness within a ruling party, oftentimes that reflects in their citizens.” His lips slowly curve into a snide smirk. “The guards are your people, are they not?”
Fuck! She's going to lose her shit.
If I thought Queen Adelphia was furious before, I couldn't have been more wrong. Eyes searing King Luthais with her wrath alone, jewels blazing, palms glittering teal – Stars save us, she's going to kill him! – she barely restrains herself before saying menacingly slow, “There is no weakness in my kingdom.”
The fool is either daft or delusional if he can't see she's moments away from fileting him alive when that smirk widens.
“Of course, Adelphia, of course! But if your people are having difficulty controlling such a simple matter, there must be an even greater issue at heart. And you are their ruling monarch.”
Feeling her wrath as a tangible entity, I'm both dreading and hopeful for his certain death. Until the pressure lessens with Olivier' s commanding voice.
“I'll take into account the information provided. More patrols and fortifying defenses is practical advice, but based on what little I've heard today, I won't be sending my people on such a dangerous excursion that could possibly incite the Gods Cursed. Not without more evidence.”
Feeling both helpless and furious at the people who are oathbound to protect their own, I clench my jaw and tighten my grip on the armrests of the chair. “Your people need to know.”
“That would cause unnecessary panic,” Olivier replies, unflinching from my gaze. “Prove to me the situation is as dire as you say, and we'll plan accordingly.”
My orange topaz and starlight jewels suddenly flare of their own accord. Scenting smoke, I glance down at my hands gripped tightly around the armrests and find my palms glittering with orange flames. Slowly unfurling my fingers, I release the chair and attempt to dampen my anger, but I’m met with minimal success.
Olivier continues, taking no notice or care to my volatile state. “Until then, I'll make the changes I previously stated. Now, if that's all for today…” He pushes back his chair, the wooden legs scraping across the floor as he rises to his feet. “I have other business to attend to.” Giving Queen Adelphia a single, brusque nod, he strides to the door before leaving the room altogether.
The others stand, whispering goodbyes and well wishes before they follow behind Olivier. Elidyr gives me a sympathetic smile as he passes and Theon squeezes my shoulder before he pushes back his chair and exits the room.
I remain seated, fuming. Sucking on my teeth, I push off the table, all but knocking my chair back as I rise to my feet. It's only when I turn to leave, that I realize I'm not alone.
“Sit. Down,” Queen Adelphia orders.
Godsdamn it!
Having no patience for her castigation, I plop myself unceremoniously back into my seat.
“You disobeyed me.”
Hearing the angry timbre to her tone, my gaze darts to hers and I finally see how apoplectic she is. Usually, I would take steps to appease her, but she's not the only person livid at the moment.
She rises from her crystal throne, her heels clicking and gown whispering across the polished floor as she moves towards the spirits, pouring herself a drink. With her back facing me, she lifts the crystal tumbler to her lips and sips in silence.
“Theon already spoke to me about your concerns,” she says after several minutes, whirling to face me, “and I decided we would keep this matter private until I could assess the situation further.”
“The attack today escalated the severity of the situation,” I argue.
With glass in hand, she glides around the table, every step graceful and regal. “You should have spoken to me about it beforehand. You don’t have the authority to speak of such issues without my consent.” She arches her blonde brows disapprovingly. “Did I give you permission?”
“There was no time,” I bite out, refusing to cower beneath her arctic stare. “I came directly from patrol.”
“Your attire and lateness suggest otherwise.” Pursing her lips, she wraps one arm around her waist, the other raising her glass half handedly near her cheek. “Regardless, I ordered you to keep quiet on the matter. You did not. Not only that, you spoke when the only people allowed to speak during the Kings Council are royalty and their heirs.”
Hearing the click of my jaw as I grind my teeth, I remind her, “I have royal blood.”
“How could I possibly forget that?” she sneers, but only for a moment. For in the next, her expression falls, her gaze roaming my face. “You have his face, you know. Not an exact replica, but near enough.” She takes a sip of her drink, glowering at me over the rim. “Especially your eyes. When I look into your eyes, all I see is him.” Curling her lip, she tosses her head back, draining the contents of her glass.
I'm well aware you rarely ever look at me, and when you do it's with hatred and derision.
She ambles toward the window, peering out at the two moons in a now darkened sky. “Increase the patrol and get a handle on the situation. I will not be thought of as weak.”
Recognizing my dismissal, I bow with a visible sneer and say with as much venom in my voice as she offered to me, “Of course, Mother.”
Turning my back on her, I stride towards the door and open it. Just as I’m stepping over the threshold, but before I shut the door behind me, I hear her parting comment.
“And Captain? If you ever disobey me again, I'll strip you of your command and banish you from the palace.”
