The Throne of Broken Bones (Weapon of Fire and Ash Book 3)

by Brittany Matsen

  Perhaps it hadn’t included speaking to other Shediem. But being

  in the home of a Giborim filled with the nasty little faux-angelic

  soldiers likely made it so she couldn’t say anything they might

  overhear either.

  He puzzled over her words for several minutes.“Asmodeus

  killed children because you’re weak?”

  Her eyes sparkled with tears and she shook her head. An odd sensation curled in his gut as he tried again. “Your

  father made you kill kids and thinks your weak?”

  She nodded.

  He mulled over her meaning. The only children he could

  think of were the Anakeem Asmodeus was training. Without his

  general, he thought bitterly. Though the prince had been sure to

  gloat about Tlahaz taking up the empty mantle.

  “The Anakeem aren’t behaving, I take it?”

  She gave a noncommittal shrug. “You haven’t forgotten me

  yet, I see.”

  He shot her a wry grin.“Oh, if only you were easy to forget,

  sunshine.”

  He missed her warm scent, and found himself wanting to

  touch her. He moved closer to the bed, ignoring the stabs of pain

  that assaulted his body. She fisted the rumpled floral duvet on

  the bed, and he noted with amusement how strange the giant

  flowers looked near her. Light and frilly things clashed with her

  personality. Her stubborn will. Her need to fight for what she

  believed in. She was a snake in a rose bed.

  She didn’t scoot away when his legs hit the mattress. That

  answered his question: if he could touch things within her room,

  then he could touch her.

  He leaned down, inhaling deeply. The faintest whiff of her

  warm, sugary scent reached him. It mixed with her blood, making

  his stomach tighten painfully as ravenous hunger shot through him. He stilled with one hand outstretched, curling them both

  into fists.

  “Why are you here, outside of my dream?” she whispered. His face was only a foot away. He watched her wet her lips

  and shift uncomfortably.

  “Because I wanted to be.” He glanced down at the swirling

  pink flowers, lip curling like they were a disease. “Did Muscles

  pick the gaudy décor?”

  She blinked at his rapid change of subject.“I doubt it.” He chuckled, drawing himself back up to full height. Emma craned her neck to look up at him.

  “I don’t,” he retorted.

  She bit her lip.“Have you seen my mom?”

  Levaroth released a breath. “No. But I found out why

  Adrianna is in Sheol. She’s a Spellcaster—I mean, I knew that,

  but I can’t remember if I told you or no—” From the alarmed

  expression Emma wore, he guessed he hadn’t. “She’s meant

  to be the most powerful Spellcaster to ever live, apparently.

  There’s a whole prophecy about her. She’s supposed to change

  my memories of you.”

  Emma’s eyes were wide, her lips parted in shock. “She’s…a

  Spellcaster? How is that possible?”

  Levaroth rolled his eyes.“I can show you the basics of how

  babies are made but—”

  She held up a hand, her dainty nose wrinkling. “I just…

  that’s a lot to take in.” She sat silently for a moment, her hands

  twisting in her lap.“She’s supposed to change your memories of

  me? Like what, make me evil or something? And what do you

  mean, a prophecy?”

  Levaroth shrugged.“I’ve resisted her so far, although I can tell

  something’s different. I just don’t know what.” Shifting through

  his memories of her, he searched for gaps or inconsistencies, but

  it felt as though a wall was in place to keep him from doing just

  that. Finally he said, “The prophecy just states she has to bind

  the ultimate darkness to save the world from mass destruction

  or something.”

  Emma let out a shuddering breath.“During the war, right?” He nodded.

  “But I don’t understand why my father would try to turn

  you against me when we’re on the same team.”

  “It’s not about you. It’s about the fact that my loyalty has

  been compromised.”

  “How so?”

  Levaroth rubbed the back of his neck, ignoring the tiny bursts

  of pain all along his neck where Asmodeus had been stabbing

  him with his enchanted ice picks.“I didn’t know your father was

  going to force you to take the Mark of Fallen Flame. After you

  left, I went a little crazy, trying to get him to undo it.” “I…” She paused. “Do you know of anyway to-to get rid

  of—” She gestured over her shoulder.

  Levaroth’s gaze darkened as he began to pace. Emma watched

  him. Her emerald eyes glistened. An idea formed, a way to free

  her from her father’s control. But the cost was steep. Then he stopped, a smile spreading across his lips slowly.

  “A kiss for information?”

  Her jaw dropped, expression morphing to anger in an

  instant.“And if I agreed, then killed you?”

  He laughed loudly, and her eyes darted to the door beside

  him.

  “Hmmm, let me guess. Muscles is on the other side?”

  The spark of an ugly, human emotion flared to life in his chest.

  He fought it down, hoping she’d take his deal.

  “No, he left. But he’ll be back, so keep your voice down.” He leaned over her again, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

  She shivered. “It’s good of him to protect what’s mine. Until I

  get out of here.”

  Emma scoffed, leaning her head away.“And here I’d thought

  you had changed. Glad to see I wasn’t wrong.”

  Levaroth stayed where he was, watching her. “I can’t help

  you remove your father’s mark. But I’m guessing your little Spellcaster friend can.” He paused, wondering if he could really say the words that had formulated in his mind. “One kiss.

  And I’ll make sure you go free.”

  He could hear her heart race and her breathing quicken.

  The moment she decided, he knew. A delicate pink rose to her

  cheeks. The bruising on her face was nearly gone now. When she scooted toward him again, he didn’t bother

  fighting his smile.

  “Just a kiss, and that’s it,” she warned.

  “If you can manage to stop after just one kiss, I’ll need to

  see a physician.”

  Before she could add any further quip, he cupped her face

  and brought his lips down on hers.

  The bite of pain from the pressure was eased by her softness.

  Her body stiffened at first, and he thought her power would kick

  in and finish him off. But when he deepened the kiss—desperate

  to taste her—her shoulders eased, and she sighed into his mouth.

  His tongue swept over the seam of her lips, parting them.

  The taste of her was a heady rush of sweetness and sunshine

  and he couldn’t get enough. Her hands shook as they rose up

  the plane of his chest.

  He crawled further onto the bed, forcing her onto her back

  beneath him. A groan ripped itself from his chest. He wanted

  to touch her everywhere, to please her. To claim her. His teeth

  nipped at her swollen bottom lip, eliciting a tiny gasp that made

  his blood roar.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  Her hands con
tinued their exploration of his body, drifting

  up over the bulge of his shoulders and down his back, stopping

  less than an inch from the slope of his wings.

  “It’s okay,” he panted, not wanting her to stop.

  Hesitantly, her fingertips brushed the joints and he trembled,

  kissing her with more fervor. She palmed the ridge of them,

  making them twitch.

  “Does it feel nice?” she asked in between the kisses he

  scattered between her lips, her jawbone, and the curve of her

  delicate throat.

  The rumble in his chest was his only response, and he felt

  her lips tilt up against his cheek.

  Then another presence touched the edges of his senses

  and his growl turned menacing, just as she stilled. His canines

  lengthened as he skimmed them along the hollow of Emma’s

  neck, a threat to keep her pinned beneath him. Her shiver of

  pleasure made the beast inside swell with primal satisfaction. A knock sounded at the door. Emma clapped a hand over

  his mouth, silencing his sounds of disapproval.

  “Emma?” Muscles called to her.

  Shameful tears sparkled in her eyes as she tried to push

  Levaroth off her.

  “Good,” he whispered into her ear. “Open the door and let

  him see my kisses on your body.”

  Her look of horror made him frown. This wasn’t how he

  wanted her to remember him.

  “Emma, please let me in,” Muscles said.

  It took everything in Levaroth to restrain himself from

  shouting at him to go away.

  “You got what you wanted, now go away,” she hissed. Levaroth pressed a final kiss to her forehead. His throat

  thickened.“Don’t forget me, Ash-nesikah.”

  Then the room evaporated, and with it, Emma’s warm,

  perfect body.

  His chest was hollow. Everything ached.As he tilted his head

  back a trickle of warmth seeped from his eyes, and he roared,

  letting the pain consume him.

  When a dark, hulking figure stepped through the barrier

  into his cell, Levaroth leveled Tlahaz with a dead stare. “I want to make a deal,” he rasped with the dregs of his

  remaining energy.“I will stop fighting. Give up my memories. If

  your Spellcaster can remove her father’s mark.”

  “That’s not possible,” Tlahaz said as he folded his lethal

  arms over his chest. “That mark is the only thing ensuring the

  Shediem-Slayer doesn’t murder us all.”

  Levaroth shook his head.“She’s not strong enough to contain

  all of our powers. And besides, if it were Adrianna, would you

  allow it?”

  Levaroth had witnessed in the past weeks the way Tlahaz

  protected the Spellcaster, always stopping her before she exerted

  too much power, and hovering beside her like some danger might

  just appear out of nowhere.

  And from the way the Shediem general’s body tensed and

  his teeth audibly ground together, Levaroth had his answer. “It may not be possible for her to remove it. And once you

  give up your memories you won’t care anymore anyway.” Levaroth tugged on his bonds, letting the fresh wave of

  searing pain slice through his bones. “The mark needs to be

  removed first. Then I’ll give up my memories.”

  He jerked harder, hearing the bones in his wings snap. He

  clamped his jaw shut to keep his agony trapped inside, trying to

  cover the emotional ache in his chest with physical pain. Tlahaz’s lips pulled up in a twisted smile. “Such the fool.

  However, I will consider it…brother.”

  He spun, leaving Levaroth huffing as blood coursed down

  his arms.

  10

  Emma

  A t least one rib had been broken. Her father had deposited her back to her room only a few minutes before Blaze knocked the first time. She was both thankful for her

  quick healing and irritated by it. Irritated, because at least that would have prevented her from completely losing herself the moment Levaroth pressed his lips to her.

  Like with every time she had kissed Rowek, his kisses were hypnotizing and all-consuming. Even more so when she’d felt the full, incredible, beautiful edges of his true form. No matter how much she knew she should hate him, over the past few weeks, seeing him in her dreams every night had lowered her guard. And somehow made it even more impossible to resist his ethereal beauty.

  When Blaze had knocked, it had jarred her from the shroud of dreamlike pleasure that was Levaroth’s kisses. Shame had filled her so completely, she hadn’t answered the door. Instead, she’d jumped into the shower, determined to rinse Levaroth’s scent and the feel of his mouth from her body.

  And still, she felt it like a banner of shame for all to see. Especially Blaze. She’d opened a window too, trying to chase the woodsmoke and spice from her bed linens, but even after she balled them up, threw them into the wash, and replaced them with new linens, it lingered.

  He lingered.

  She’d just settled back onto the bed, hugging her pillow to her chest, when a knock sounded from her external door. But she didn’t need to open it to know it was Blaze.

  “You need to eat, Emma.” His voice sounded pained, and she released a breath of relief. He’d arrived, delaying yet again the images of the woman and children she’d slaughtered from filling her mind.

  She rose from her bed and strode to the door, pulling it open. Blaze’s brows were raised in surprise that she’d finally opened the door for him.“Can I come in?” he asked.

  She nodded, chewing on her lip. As he carried a dinner tray and set it on her table, she watched him, waiting for a reaction. For him to catch a whiff of Levaroth, or see the evidence on her skin, even though it had long since washed off thanks to her determined scrubbing. But he didn’t seem to notice that anything was off.

  He stood awkwardly by the table, examining her from head to toe, brows furrowing. Maybe he did see something of Levaroth on her. She forced herself not to squirm, and not to touch her lips.

  “At least you’ve healed.”

  She nodded.

  “And your ribs?”

  “They’re fine,” she replied tightly. In part because he was so observant, but also because the warning jolt down her spine forced her to reveal the very minimum.

  Blaze nodded, running a hand through his dark hair. “And do you mind telling me how the hell you ended up looking like you were put through a meat grinder?”

  Emma’s throat tightened. The next flare of pain down her spine was worse, making her wince. Though Blaze seemed to mistake her reaction for his sharp tone, and his expression gentled.

  “Did you go somewhere?”

  Desperation to veer away from the topic made Emma lunge for him, grabbing his hands in hers. Her eyes pleaded with him to drop it.“Blaze,” she gasped.“Please, can we just eat? I’m tired.”

  His lips thinned, and wordlessly he dropped into the chair across from her. With his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together, Blaze pressed his lips into his hands, looking like he was praying. But he wasn’t. He watched Emma with a look that bordered on anger.

  “I’m really sorry about this morning,” she said after taking her seat too, though she didn’t move to touch any of the food in front of her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, reaching for a steamy plate of chicken korma, one of Emma’s favorite dishes. He scooped the aromatic curry onto a heaped plate of rice and offered her a rolled-up naan bread that had a warm, buttery shine to it.

  The scent of garlic made her mouth water, but her stomach knotted. She hated that he was angry. She hated that she couldn’t tell him the truth. And most of
all, she hated that she was her father’s pawn.

  “So, a group of us went into the city to offer supplies and whatnot,” Blaze started after a long stretch of silence. He scooped up another bite of curry and rice with his naan bread before continuing. “There was a girl with a baby. Breanna. She has no family, no protection whatsoever. We brought her back to the compound. She’s a human obviously, so she’ll need to be kept out of the inner workings of things. I figured since you’ve expressed your wish to be kept out of strategy meetings, you could kind of keep an eye on her. Help her acclimate, but make it so she doesn’t discover the truth of us.”

  “Actually,” Emma said, setting down her fork. Bile rose in her throat, and she nearly choked on her next words. “I was thinking about it today, and I’d like to take a more active role. I think I’m ready.”

  Blaze searched her face for a moment before nodding.“Okay. Sure. I can have Gertie help with Breanna and Isaac.”

  “I’d still like to meet her,” she offered.

  Blaze nodded again. “I suppose she’ll have to be invited to Axel and Emerelda’s engagement party. Speaking of which, do you need a dress for that?”

  Emma tried not to let her distaste for dresses show. “How fancy is it? I have a few dresses but they’re more summery-type things that my mother wouldn’t stop buying me. Although, my prom dress is still at my house—”

  Blaze interrupted her musings by saying,“I’ll make sure you have something appropriate.”

  She forced a smile in thanks, and they ate the rest of their dinner in silence. She offered to take her tray down to the kitchen and pop in to meet Breanna, but Blaze told her to give Breanna the night to adjust before meeting too many people.

  Emma agreed, but still took their plates downstairs. Gertie gave her a sad smile and wrapped her in a hug that stretched on long enough to make Emma’s eyes prick with tears. She pulled away before the floodgate of her tears was unleashed, muttering something about a headache, then fled back to her room.

  Emma stared up into the dark, too afraid to close her eyes for fear of bringing back each tiny, terrified face of the children she murdered. At some time in the early hours of morning, exhaustion finally claimed her, sending her directly into the writhing pit of her nightmares.

  She stood in the grand hall again, her father’s bloodred stare on her, and ropes clutched in his monstrous claws. When he tugged them, Emma’s left arm and leg moved. She looked down, finding the ropes tied to her wrists and ankles and one around her throat.