As a boy, he’d had no spare money for ink and paper, so he’d adapted. As often as he and Viori had dashed from village to village to avoid being punished for simply surviving, he’d needed a map. The Forest of Many Names was an infamous labyrinth known for gobbling up visitors and spitting out their bones. Eventually.
His greatest fear was finding Viori’s bones in the wooded terrain.
His lungs squeezed, his breath thinning. “Your insolence this day is concerning, Eye. But I’m a merciful king. Upon occasion. Too merciful, perhaps. I’ll give you one chance to save yourself from reprisal. Show me what Prince Jareth is doing right this second.”
The seer had the ability to meld her mind with another’s and reveal whatever images she observed in a vision—the past, present or future. It was a painful process for her. He didn’t care.
As she’d done thousands of times, she projected a picture into his mind. An image of Jareth Frostline, Crown Prince of the Winter Court, traveling through the Forest of Many Names with his bride. Princess Lulundria, the darling of the Summer Court.
“Show me the end result of our coming skirmish.” And there would be a skirmish.
Jareth craved a fight. Why else would the prince near Kaysar’s borders?
Did the husband hope to impress the new wife with his bravery, mayhap?
He will face only humiliation.
After Kaysar’s escape from captivity, he’d hunted for Viori ceaselessly, but she’d vanished without a trace. He gripped his throne, his claws digging deep. Even Eye had failed to catch a glimpse of her.
The Frostlines had taken everything Kaysar had ever loved. For centuries, he’d nursed his hatred like a fine wine. Now, he lived to ensure the royal family suffered and suffered and suffered and suffered and suffered. Exactly as he’d planned. Until Hador and Jareth experienced the same devastation they’d caused an innocent boy and his sister, Kaysar had no intention of ending his personal war. Which meant the war would never end.
His suffering endured throughout the ages. Theirs would, too.
“To show you the end, I must watch the beginning.” Eye’s distaste for the sight of blood was her biggest fault. Along with dozens of others. “Why should I bother? We both know you’ll win.”
“You bother because I command it.” Kaysar smiled at her. An expression many had deemed “the most terrifying sight in all the land.”
Did he know he’d win? Yes. But he still enjoyed a peek at the end result.
In battle, he had no equal. Not because he was born with a natural or even unnatural talent for killing. In his formative years, he’d worked as a farmer, like his parents. No, he succeeded because he let nothing dissuade him from a goal.
It helped that he’d trained under the harshest conditions. That he’d spent centuries battling trolls, goblins and ogres. The worst of the worst.
Perhaps he was a monster himself, eh? But at least he wasn’t a liar.
After he’d taken control of the Nightlands—a former prison territory inhabited only by the dregs of society—he’d created a new court, Midnight, with no one able to stop him. To the fae, might equaled right, every kingdom ruled by the one with the strength to hold the crown.
Over the years, the Midnight Court had become the wealthiest kingdom with resources the others lacked. Even better, the Nightlands were infinitely more dangerous. Well, except for the Dusklands.
Just for fun, he’d also conquered the barren wasteland teeming with monsters. He hadn’t yet set up another court to rule—but he would. When he tired of hurting the Frostlines.
He and his army would have no trouble accomplishing whatever he decided, his soldiers motivated to succeed. In battle, the men he’d trained had no equal either. Without hesitation, they savagely killed anyone who served the Frostlines. But. As ordered, they always spared the Frostlines themselves. To this day, Kaysar lamented ending Prince Lark’s life so soon.
You couldn’t torture a dead man. Kaysar had tried.
His only solace came from making the rest of the family wish they were dead.
“You will show me the end and anything else I should see.” He leaned back and tapped a claw against the arm of the throne. Poisonvine venom leaked from the punctures.
Contact with the smallest drop paralyzed most fae for minutes and weakened them for weeks. With prolonged exposure, Kaysar had developed an immunity—and a bone-deep adoration.
“There is always more you should see,” Eye muttered, “but you only ever acknowledge what you wish to acknowledge.”
“And I’m right to do so. Now show me what I demand and nothing more.”
Eye shook her head, disappointed in him, then projected another image into his mind. In a flash, he saw a bloody Jareth on his knees, his head bowed as he sobbed.
Prince Jareth, dejected enough to squeeze out a few tears? Kaysar must witness this.
The royal seer anchored her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you kill King Hador and Prince Jareth and be done with your hatred once and for all?”
Foolish girl. “You don’t part with the things you love. You hold them close and never let go.” His hatred was his oldest and dearest friend. His closest family. If he lost it the way he’d lost Viori, he’d have nothing.
Eye gave him a pitying look, then motioned to the tattoo on his bicep. A snake curled into a figure eight, eating its own tail, with a sword running through its center. His kingdom’s symbol, meaning “eternal war.” “Why does your desire for vengeance matter more than my dream of peace? I tire of war, King Kaysar. All of your people tire of war. Do you even care?”
“What a ridiculous question. Of course I don’t care. My people have shelter, food and protection, a slight to them a slight to me. I demand only what I’m owed in return.”
“You believe you’re owed blind obedience.”
“No. I believe I’m owed obedience and truth.” If anyone lied to him, they immediately lost the privilege of breathing.
She tossed her hands up. “You make it impossible for your people to find happiness.”
Wrong. “Happiness is the only thing I’ve left up to them. If they go without, they can only blame themselves.” He tilted his head, intensifying his study of the oracle. “Have you decided my terms are unacceptable, Eye? If so, you are more than welcome to leave my lands. I’ll even allow you to do so with your head attached.”
To reach another kingdom, she must travel through the Forest of Many Names. A jot difficult to do, considering Kaysar had relocated centaurs, ogres and trolls into the wilds however long ago. For anyone not bearing his protection—his seal or the Frostline name—moving from kingdom to kingdom came with a high likelihood of failure.