Marayke winds an arm around my waist, but I flinch and hiss.
“Does it hurt?”
“Like hell.”
She turns to her brother. “You bastard. Were you trying to kill her?”
He motions leisurely to the dead soldiers, one of them slumped by the gates, the other lying on his side on the floor, dark blood pooling under him from the gash in his throat. “She killed these two people. She threw daggers at them.”
“Kareim, this isn’t what we talked about.” She looks at the two soldiers, and I can tell from her expression that she, with her warrior skills and senses, can reconstruct exactly what happened here. “Nobody was supposed to get killed, especially not our people. And Xerxes will know it wasn’t her.”
“No, he won’t.” He pulls out another blade, and cuts his own throat. I scream, Marayke curses under her breath, and Nazarean hisses from the dark corridor but, luckily, only I can hear him.
Kareim falls to his knees but, of course, he didn’t hurt himself badly, he merely cut his skin. It’s enough for him to bleed like a pig, though.
“What the fuck,” Marayke grunts, but he just grins at her, one hand on his throat, thin streams of blood trickling between his fingers.
“See?” Kareim says, still grinning. “She hurt me, too. After she tried to seduce me. She tried to seduce all of us.”
“The King will never believe you,” Marayke says. “You’re going too far. In fact, any further, and I’ll jump ship, brother.”
“Really?” He counters, though it’s increasingly hard for him to speak. His eyes lose focus, too, I think he’s about to faint. “I’d be careful if I were you, big sister. You’re too deep in this to say things like that. If I go down, you go down even deeper. He trusted you more than he ever did me.”
With that, Kareim slouches back against the wall. Marayke looks from me to him, obviously not sure who to help first.
“Are you bleeding anywhere?” she asks, inspecting me.
I shake my head no. At least, I don’t think so.
She helps me gently into a sitting position on the floor, then she hurries over to her brother. She swings one of his arms around her shoulders and helps him stand, though he’s hardly still conscious. She looks at me one last time.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and leaves the dungeon with Kareim.
The gate falls shut behind her, and the last thing I see is a side-glance from the two-faced High Mage. He might not be gifted with magic, but he sure is one of the most cunning and evil bastards I’ve ever encountered. That glance goes straight to the back of my head, and pain runs through my back, where he injured me. It reiterates everything he told and did to me. If I dare tell Xerxes the truth, he would unleash the entire Council of the Arcane against him and, along with it, all the realms at once.
The armies of the worlds would come after him, with Hell leading them. I have no choice. I have to save the man I love.
Xerxes
I PUSH THE GRAND DOORS of the castle open, facing the crowd already gathered in the main hall. The guards drum with their weapons against their armor, and almost in tears that we’ve won, while the civilians take a step back. I must be quite a sight, covered in black demon blood. My royal armor is broken in places, my throat is sore from the flames I’ve spat, and my voice will surely sound like a devil’s when I use it.
The crowd moves to the side to let me walk to the Throne Hall, where my courts have already gathered, waiting to discuss the emergency situation. But now that adrenaline and fire are growing colder in my veins, another priority takes over—Cerys’ betrayal.
I walk into the Throne Hall and take the throne as I am, still dressed in my royal armor, and covered in blood. Some of the courts look outraged, but to be honest I don’t give a fuck about my appearance. Duke Draven takes his rightful place standing by my throne. Dressed in black, the blood is harder to see on him, but it’s there. Despite his pretty face, Draven Ferox is just what the name suggests—feral.
“It’s not Samael’s attack that surprised us,” one of the courts says once we’re deep in the discussion. “In the end, you took something away from him. What interests us is what the Queen had to do with it? Why did she run away when the attack started?”
Of course they’re hungry for information on her betrayal more than on what happened with Samael.
“She killed two soldiers, and injured the High Mage almost to death,” another one says. The muscles in my jaw tighten, and my bloody hands grip the arms of my throne so hard that the metal begins to bend, and my heart threatens to shred inside my chest. Fuck, when did I get this weak on the inside?
“Do we know for a fact that’s what happened?” Draven asks in my place. He has been my brother in arms for such a long time that he can sense when I need support. He’s the only one who knows me well enough.
“Two dead soldiers and one mage under the care of magical doctors isn’t proof enough?”
“With all due respect,” one of the older courts chimes in, “we have more pressing matters to discuss now. Not that a treacherous queen weren’t important, by all means, she is.” Eyes find me, full of hidden meaning. “But how we’re going to deal with Samael is far more urgent. You fought him back, Milord, you forced his armies to return to Hell, but they’re bound to come back.”
“We know Samael’s reason for doing this,” a court from the back puts in. “While on the quest for the Firestone, you have absorbed his people’s dark power, Milord. But if that’s what drives him into battle, he must also have terms and conditions under which he would stop. If he hasn’t sent a messenger to negotiate yet, I suggest that we do.”
At this point I can hardly control my thoughts of Cerys, my burning need to see her, to sink my hand in her hair and grab her hard, force her against the wall right there in the dungeon and demand the truth. Kiss it violently out of her.
“He has sent a messenger,” I manage, my voice rasping. People lean back, some of them stare at me, barely able to hide their alarm. Which is understandable, I sound like a devil. “Apparently, he offered the Queen a deal.” I stand, looking the facts in the face even though I’d rather cut my wrists open than do it. “The Queen has been in touch with Samael in secret. He threatened to attack the realm, she pleaded for peace. In exchange for that, he demanded that she give herself to him.” A knot forms in my throat, and it’s difficult to speak past it. “She agreed. She gave herself to him three nights before our wedding. They did it in the very bed that we were supposed to share with each other tonight. After...” No, I can’t even fucking say it. “After he took her, Samael realized he wanted her for the long-term.” I scoff. “Poor bastard. He’s probably getting played, like I did.”
“How do you know all this?” the older court demands, his eyes full of doubt. I imagine it’s as hard for him to believe it as it is for me.
I turn my head to Marayke. It was her who briefed me, reluctantly and red to the tips of her ears, just before I entered the castle. My feelings were still numb from the fighting, which is why she chose that moment. It was like performing surgery under anesthesia, but now that I’m coming back from the numbness, what she told me sears my heart like a red iron sears human flesh.