“Nazarean,” Cerys calls, and the cat stops. It jumps out of the way as Marayke tries to slice through him with her blade, and hides under Cerys’ hair.
“I’m gonna cut that beast into pieces,” Marayke snarls.
“No you won’t, because he’s done nothing wrong,” Cerys retorts, stroking the now purring cat under his chin.
“Are you fucking crazy? Didn’t you see—”
“Nazarean only reacts like that if he senses the energy of harmful thoughts. If he attacked your friend, it’s because he was probably thinking of doing bad things to me.”
“He’s not my friend, he’s my brother,” Marayke screeches. She stares daggers at Cerys, black lines growing from her pupils and extending through her irises. Damn it, she’s manipulating the iron in Cerys’ veins. She wouldn’t dare to try to kill her, but she’s obviously determined to torture her.
I’m a split second away from grabbing Marayke and Kareim and hurling them both against the wall, when I notice that Cerys smiles, stroking the cat, and staring defiantly right into Marayke’s eyes.
“First of all, I don’t have the same aversion to iron as your fae kind does,” she says. “And secondly, as a magic energy worker I can not only replenish supernaturals’ tanks, but also drain them.”
Marayke’s face reddens from the effort. She’s leaning forward to Cerys, ready to attack, straining to use her powers.
“Your magic won’t work on me, no matter how hard you try,” Cerys concludes, and Marayke launches at her with a war cry.
I step in front of Cerys at the last moment, and Marayke slams into me. She falls back on her butt, her armor clamoring against the ground.
“Get a grip, Marayke,” I grunt. “We still need the girl.”
“Oh, you still need me, yes?” Cerys says, stepping over to my side, and staring at me with daggers in her honey-colored eyes. “Because otherwise you’d let these bastards tear me apart, or your lover girl the Iron Maiden slice me to pieces. Well, let me tell you something King of Flames, I will not let you use me. You dragged me here, among people who hate me for no reason, and you expect me to what? Keep replenishing your magic tanks until you get the Firestone, when you’ll have no more use for me. What’s gonna happen then, huh? You gonna throw me to these lions, or will you let Marayke and her brother have their way with me?”
My eyes fly over to Kareim.
“I’m perfectly aware this doesn’t exactly look like good business to you,” I tell the girl as Marayke and Kareim retreat into the darkness at the back of the dungeon, their hateful eyes still on her. “You are in enemy territory.” I raise my voice so that everybody can hear. “You and your brother Zillard Dark fought on Lysander’s side, while the other mages split their loyalties.” I motion to the gathering. “These are the people who stayed devoted to me before and after the fall.” I lower my voice, saying the next words only for her. “Well, to me, and the riches I can still provide for them.” Her gaze flies to the glittering piles by the walls. She understands exactly what I mean. “I lost most of my supernatural powers when my core was shattered, I lost everything down to basic magic, my physical strength, and my innate ability to find great riches. But those are the most valuable abilities when you want followers.”
I square my shoulders, towering over her.
“I have a proposition for you, Miss Dark. You help me until we find the Firestone, and I promise to set you free afterwards, and guarantee your freedom. And there’s more. You can extend your immunity to up to two other people.”
I owe her at least that much. In the end, there’s this one other thing that I need from her, and that she can never discover.
Cerys
“THAT’S A NICE OFFER, but I’m not sure I can trust you,” I reply.
He cocks an eyebrow, his presence crushing. “You doubt my word?”
Gasps travel through the hall, and I’m suddenly uncertain about whether or not I should say it, but I do. “You’re a creature of the dark, how can I believe in your promises?”
The crowd vibrates, surely expecting the King of Flames to punish me for the offence. But what he does surprises not only them, but me as well.
“Would a blood oath suffice? Would you believe me then?”
My mouth pops open. Did he really just offer me a blood oath? Like the kind that would bind him to his promise, the kind that will kill him if he doesn’t fulfill it?
I laugh, thinking maybe he’s making fun of me, but when he keeps a straight face I stop. “Oh, you’re serious.”
His silence is confirmation enough.
“But a blood oath would need to be sanctified by a—”
“We will have it sanctified. Kareim, High Mage of the Fire Realm will do it himself.”
“What?” Kareim snarls, a hand still covering the side of his face that Nazarean scratched bloody. The other half is full of hatred, paper white and too young for someone of his standing, his long hair like rusty wires. “May I remind you, Milord, that your oath would bind me not to harm her as well? And I have no intention to let this—” He drops his hand from his face and points to the wounds. I take a step back. “Go unpunished.”
Nazarean did a nasty job on his face, with three deep slashes crossing his cheek. His appearance mirrors his inner self perfectly now, with two faces, one pale and flawless, and the other mutilated.
“Let me remind you that it was your idea that I sought out Cerys Dark in the first place.” The King of Flames narrows his eyes at the mage. “I had a feeling you had a hidden agenda from the start. Now I know you did. So what was it? Why did you want her here?”
The High Mage’s eyes dart to the others. “Can we talk in private?”
His sister joins him, glaring at me with all she has from her red eyes. I can’t help but glare back, stroking Nazarean like a weapon. That’s right, badass, just because my face glows like a silver moon among creatures of the dark doesn’t mean that I’m a victim.
“I suppose we can,” Xerxes accepts, and turns to address me. “We need to talk about the details of what we’re going to do anyway. So Cerys will be joining us.”
As he leads the way out of the dungeon, I can feel his subjects’ glares stabbing my back—because that’s what they are, his subjects, loyal to him out of fear and greed. The threat that radiates from them makes me want to shudder, but I’ll be damned if I show it. So I focus on the King’s back, the iron muscles moving under his glowing bronze skin. His veins look normal now, but I know when magic lights them up they glow like rivulets of fire.
I can’t keep my eyes from slipping down to his muscular ass under his leather pants. When he came to me he was wearing a vest, too, but now his upper body is completely naked, and my mouth waters. A strange pull takes over me, my hands itch to touch him.
It’s only when we turn right into a moonlit corridor up the stairs that I realize I’ve been following him mindlessly, my mind taken with lustful thoughts, up onto the ground floor of the Flipside Edinburgh castle.
I think it’s the background noise that pulls me back to myself. Low whispers in the dark corners of the corridor, shady patterns moving across the vaulted ceiling. I walk faster until I’m so close to Xerxes that I can feel his aura encapsulating me, and a feeling of safety comes along with it. Nazarean purrs, too, and my heart makes a small leap of forbidden joy—Nazarean’s reaction is a clear sign that Xerxes’ feelings about me are protective, and that I’m safe with him.