“Do it, now!”
She bolts to the wardrobe and opens it widely. The first thing that falls into her hands is a green camouflage catsuit that she quickly slips into.
I use the time to get into my royal armor. It’s heavier and flashier than what I usually wear, which means I’ll stand out as the King, and any strategy involving surprise is off the table. Cerys and I will be walking targets. I grab her hand, emitting thick shadow that rises off my body like strings of smoke. It should help us keep a low profile.
It hits me that, for the first time ever, I don’t know who’s attacking us. I have eyes and ears everywhere, spies, intelligence agents. Never in my entire history did I fail to foresee a surprise attack like this. An attack on my own realm, of all things. How could this happen?
I scoop Cerys up in my arms, with Nazarean curled at her chest, and slide down the banister of the grand spiraling stairs.
“Close your eyes, and keep your head at my chest,” I tell her as we pick up speed.
“Why?” she protests.
“You’re only parahuman, Cerys. Unless you want to get sick as hell, do as I say.”
She does, and we slide so fast the landings flash by us like the dizzying lights of big city traffic on fast forward. I land on my feet at the ground floor, where it looks like all of Hell has broken loose.
Things settle down as eyes turn to me, and I walk in their midst, Cerys close behind me. I wish she would take her rightful place by my side, she is my equal as my Queen, but she ignores my body language and falls back.
It’s not like her, but I suppose we’ll have to discuss that later.
“Milord,”Draven says, hurrying over in his leather-and-metal fighting outfit, his black cape billowing behind him. “The realm borders are under attack. Forces from Hell, trying to break down our defenses. There are demons, giants, trolls, all sorts of creatures from the pit.”
“What in the cursed realms.” My eyes become slits as I weigh the possibilities in my head. “Why are they attacking us, what’s wrong with them?”
I can sense Cerys tense behind me. As her fated mate I have a direct line to her emotions, and for a moment it feels like she has the answer, but it can’t be real.
“I’m sorry, this is my failure. I’m the head of the Fire Court Intelligence, I should have known this was coming.” Draven bows his head.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” I say as I keep scanning possibilities in my head. “We’ve been having a lot of meetings about future strategies now that so much has changed, plus the wedding, you had too much to attend to.”
“No, Xerxes.” He steps closer, now we’re eye to eye. In private, we’re on a first name basis. Duke Draven Ferox is the best intelligence agent and strategist of all my courts, he’s loyal to the bone, and he’s got multiple aces up his sleeve. Few people know, but everything about him is a weapon, including his cape. Usually, a cape is a drawback for a fighter, but Draven’s is special. He can use it to create illusions, it can make him look like anyone or anything once he flaps it on his arm and covers his face with it.
“That’s not what I mean,” he explains. “It’s that...” He glances behind me, making sure no one but Cerys is standing close enough to hear. “We have been watching out for attacks from all of the realms, we’ve been keeping an eye out for everyone, but never for Hell. We’ve been monitoring all the realms, including the cosmic areas of Apophis and Orion, but never Hell.”
Again the feeling hits me that Cerys knows something about this. I turn to her, but she’s not where I expect her to be standing. My heart tightens in my chest. I crane my neck, and spot her as she snakes her way through the crowd. I start after her, calling out her name even though I wanted to avoid that, but now I can no longer help myself. I can’t believe that my new wife, my fated mate, is running away from me, which angers me to a point I haven’t reached ever since I met her.
People move out of the way as I stomp towards the next hall, noticing my temper changing, especially the fire in my eyes. The people of the Fire Realm are used to their King being composed and in control at all times, and now I must look like a wild animal.
Cerys has managed to disappear in the crowd, she must have hitched a red cape to mingle with the others. Anguish strangles me.
“What are you doing, Xerxes,” Draven says when I come to a halt, craning my neck like a beast without direction. “Track her scent, feel for her.”
Fuck, it’s true what they say about feelings. They interfere with your head. I should have thought about it myself. My nostrils flare as I activate my senses, and keep moving from hall to hall. I can smell the path that she’s taken, her scent of wild lilies mixing with that of her clothes, and her cat. She’s trying to lose me by walking in winding paths through the throng. I look around for her glow, since her face should stand out like a silver moon among fire fae and other fire creatures, but she must be wearing a hood, her hair draped over the sides of her face in order to keep hidden.
What could she possibly have done to run away from me? And if she’s done something that bad indeed, how the fuck didn’t I sense it? Or did I, and I refused to accept it? It must be something really bad if she’s making a run for it, because she can’t outrun me forever, and she knows it, I’ll find her sooner or later. The Fire Court Palace is huge, it’s true, it’s a whole city in itself, filled with people from courts to guests to servants, my armies and the armies of my courts, but still she doesn’t stand a chance to get lost in the crowd, not for long.
Outside the castle walls, the sounds of battle rip through the leaden skies like thunder. Draven stops for a moment, his eyes closed as he communicates telepathically with his people, then he comes after me.
“Xerxes, they discovered who’s leading the attacks,” he says. “It’s Samael.”
I stop in place. It takes only a second to make all the connections in my head—Cerys’ and my quest for the Firestone, how she channeled the souls of the dead into me, filling me with the power of the underworld. In a split second, things become crystal clear. Samael is here for the power Cerys and I have practically stolen from him.
My stomach churns. He’s here not only for me, but for Cerys, too. My anger towards her is gone, wiped away and replaced by worry and a profound sense of love. The reason why she’s running away from me doesn’t even matter anymore. What matters is that she stays safe, no matter what—another effect of the mates’ bond; I will never stop loving her and protecting her, not even in the face of betrayal.
Damn it.
“We have to move faster,” I throw to Draven over my shoulder, picking up pace through the crowd that moves out of my way like I’m an incoming panzer.
The thunder-like sounds rip through the room. They’re breaching our defenses and coming closer.
“Milord,” Marayke says, stepping in my way. “We need more military at the borders.”
The need to protect Cerys has all my muscles clenched, and my mind focused sharply on her, but I’m the King, I’m responsible for this entire realm. As long as Cerys is within these walls, she’s safe, but the others out there aren’t, especially the soldiers standing on the crenels, fighting to keep out the creatures emerging from portals everywhere.