Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2)

by Morgana Phoenix

  The fact that everyone kept telling him that, only enhanced his apprehension.

  “I think I’ll see what’s keeping her.”

  He shouldered his way between them. He made it over the threshold and into the semi crowded foyer.

  “Is it true your brother mated with a strigoi?”

  It wasn’t the question that brought Gideon up short. It was the tone. It was the arrogant amusement that prickled along every inch of his spine. He pivoted and found himself once again confronted by the three.

  “Is there a point to your question?”

  Middle exchanged glances with the two on either side of him.

  “We were just curious,” he explained. “How does it feel?”

  Gideon folded his arms over his chest, more to restrain his fists from lashing out than anything else.

  “You boys clearly need a hobby.”

  Middle chuckled. “Well, you can’t blame us, can you? It’s not every day one of the elite houses would allow something so ... unnatural into their family.”

  Left snickered. “I would be humiliated.”

  Fury was a shot of adrenaline injected straight into Gideon’s veins. His fingers ached from their knuckle whitening grip on his biceps.

  “I don’t know about humiliated,” Gideon mused slowly. “I suppose I feel the same as your mothers do about you.”

  Their smiles dimmed a notch. Frost glinted across the dark surface of their eyes.

  “We are draconian,” Right said, speaking for the first time. His tone was bemused, like Gideon’s remark just made no sense. “We don’t breed with outsiders.”

  “Riley isn’t an outsider,” Gideon said. “She is family and, peace treaty or not, I will make your family one member short if you speak of her that way again.”

  The trio seemed unaffected by his warning.

  “So you accept her? Like a pet?”

  His fist flew before Gideon could hold himself back. His knuckles broke into the bridge of Middle’s nose. Blood spattered and became a wet, crimson fountain down the well-defined grooves of his chest. He doubled over and Gideon kneed him in the face. Middle flew backwards and landed sprawled four feet away.

  The other two seemed frozen for a moment, mouths gaping in shock. Those in the foyer seemed to still as well. All heads turned in the direction of the commotion.

  Gideon moved forward. His fingers locked around Middle’s throat. His fingertips gouged into his windpipe, giving him no room to move, or breathe. Gideon hoisted him up, just high enough so they were nose to nose.

  “Here’s how this is going to work,” Gideon started slowly, evenly and through his teeth. “You are going to keep your filthy comments to yourself and I won’t rip your throat out.” He tightened his grip to make his point, watching as the boy struggled under him, choking and wheezing. His sandaled feet scraped against marble with his frantic kicking. “I can tolerate your childish bullshit, but I will end your life if you talk about the people I care about.”

  Middle grabbed at Gideon’s wrist, desperate to yank free the choking hold. But as strong as the draconian race may have been, Gideon was older. He had centuries on the kid. It would only take a flick of his wrist and Middle would go limp for a few hours.

  Gideon’s choice was taken from him when iron arms hooked through his. His grip dropped and he was yanked back.

  The warriors shoved Gideon further down the corridor, away from the ballroom and the kid coughing on the floor. Another warrior helped Middle off the floor and he backed into his small cluster of friends, clutching his throat.

  Gideon shook off the hands restraining him and whirled to face the two behind him.

  The warriors studied him back. There was tension stiffening their shoulders, their arms were braced as though prepared to hold him back a second time. But Gideon had no interest in the three stupid punks. He’d made his point.

  “Are you boys here for the party?”

  The pair moved towards him, a well-oiled machine, the perfect, fluid motion of two people who had fought side by side for years and knew what move the other would make before it was even said.

  “Whoa!” Gideon put his hands up, palms out. “My dance card is all filled up, but I’m flattered.”

  Neither seemed to find him nearly as entertaining as Gideon found himself.

  The one on the left lunged forward, hand extended towards Gideon’s forearm.

  Gideon smacked it away before it could make contact. “Easy there, Ace. I don’t play on that team.”

  Infuriated, the warrior swung with a meaty fist. The knuckles came dangerously close to rearranging Gideon’s nose. Gideon only just jerked back and felt the punch of air that followed the attack.

  The warrior staggered under the missed swing and Gideon took the opening; he countered with an uppercut straight between the warrior’s ribs. With a grunt of breathe, the warrior doubled over. The weight of the warrior’s stumble landed solidly against Gideon. The momentum sent Gideon back a full step, a step the second warrior took advantage of by getting a right hook in, catching Gideon in the jaw and sending a shower of stars bursting across his vision.

  Breath caught, the first warrior hooked his arms around Gideon’s middle. The ground met Gideon’s back with enough force to knock the sense out of him for a full second before his rage kicked in and his fists were flying.

  Arms and legs blurred. The crack of fists, the scuffle of feet drummed through his veins. He was so lost in the battle that he was ill prepared when dozens of hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.

  The first thing Gideon became aware of was the two sets of hands gripping him. It gave him some pride, the knowledge that they thought he was that much of a threat. The second thing he noticed was the small army forming a tight circle around him and his companions. The three who, in Gideon’s opinion, had started the whole ordeal, were nowhere to be seen.

  Figures, he thought grimly to himself.

  “Don’t struggle!” one of the warriors hissed in Gideon’s ear.

  The warning was followed by the rough jerk of Gideon’s arms being twisted behind his back and restrained in gold shackles.

  Gideon raised an eyebrow. “I would ask where those came from, but...” He cast a meaningful glance down at the warrior’s loincloth. “I’m a little afraid of the answer.”

  The warrior narrowed his eyes, gave Gideon a hard shake that rocked Gideon sideways by an inch. “Keep your foul mouth shut, Caster!”

  “My...” Gideon burst out laughing. “That’s not what your sister said. She liked my foul mouth telling her what a dirty—”

  The fist caught Gideon more or less by surprise. He knew he was asking for it, yet hadn’t expected the guy to actually punch an unarmed and shackled man. He doubled over as the wind was slammed out of him.

  “Don’t be like that!” he wheezed between coughs. “I only made her go down on her knees once.” He straightened and flashed the warrior a smirk. “The second time, she did it on her own.”

  “Gio!” The resounding command saved Gideon seconds before Gio’s fist could make nice with Gideon’s face.

  The warrior tensed. He pulled back and stood stiffly at Gideon’s left shoulder.

  Magnus met Gideon’s eye and his expression darkened. He pushed his way forward, through the wall enclosing Gideon and stopped at his brother’s side.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he snarled at the warrior on Gideon’s left.

  Gio narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. The guy probably figured he didn’t need to answer to Magnus.

  “Release my brother!” Magnus commanded.

  “He attacked a member of the court,” the warrior on Gideon’s right said.

  Magnus shot Gideon a sharp glare before focusing on the pair once more. “It will not happen again. I assure you.”

  “I am afraid it will not be that simple, Magnus.”

  In the ballroom doorway stood the queen with two armed warriors standing guard at her back. They had their swords u
nsheathed and were watching the group with shrewd dislike. Behind them was Kryos.

  Magnus turned. His expression became mutely respectful, and quietly dangerous. “Your highness?”

  The queen glided forward. The crowd parted and she slipped through like a hot knife through butter. Her heavily lidded eyes remained fixated on Gideon the closer she drew. The men around them bowed their heads and kept their attentions fixed on the ground by their queen’s feet.

  “He attacked my nephew,” she stated evenly and gestured with a gloved hand in the direction she had come from.

  Three more had joined the fun, Gideon noted. They stood next to Kyros, an air of smug arrogance shimmering around them.

  Fuckers! Gideon thought, eyeing the trio with a look that promised a slow and painful death.

  The three remained immune, especially now that they had their bulldog on the case.

  “Pardon my saying, your majesty,” Gideon rounded his gaze to the queen. “But they attacked my family first.”

  “He’s lying!” Middle snapped, face still beautifully bloody. “We were trying to be hospitable and welcome him to our home and he attacked us.”

  “Unprovoked?” Magnus countered. “My brother is not deranged. He does not attack without reason.”

  “Are you insinuating that my nephew is lying, Magnus?” The queen pinned Magnus with a look of warning not to piss her off.

  “I was not here,” Magnus replied smoothly. “I cannot insinuate anything, your highness. But I know my brother. There has clearly been a mistake.”

  The queen leveled those cold, shrewd eyes on Gideon. “Is that correct, Caster? Was there a mistake?”

  It was common sense to do and say whatever the queen wanted in order to survive the remainder of the night, but there were too many eyes on them and Gideon had his pride, and a little too much anger running wild through him.

  “Why do you call us Casters?” he asked instead. “You are one of us.”

  The corner of Tiana’s mouth quirked upwards in a smile that ran a few degrees south of frigid. “While we might have signed the treaty and agreed to assist in ... Caster business, we will never conform to the laws forced upon us.” Her chin lifted a notch. “We have ruled this earth since before man, demon, or angel. We were the first.”

  Gideon had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Every creature and their mother thought they were the first. Unfortunately for them, no one would ever really know. That, oddly enough, was not the issue here.

  “If that is the case, perhaps you ought to teach your nephew a thing or two about showing respect.”

  A collective gasp lifted from the crowd, including Magnus. Without looking, Gideon knew eyes were bouncing from him to the queen like they were having a riveting game of Ping-Pong.

  The queen merely smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about the gesture. “We respect those who have earned it, something you will learn after a night in the cellar.”

  “Your majesty!” Magnus took a step forward.

  The queen broke her staring match with Gideon to stop Magnus in his tracks. “Be quiet, Magnus. It is only my affection for you that your brother leaves here with all his pieces. A few hours in the hole will not kill him.”

  “It’s fine,” Gideon muttered when Magnus opened his mouth to protest. “Just check on Valkyrie for me, will you? Make sure she’s okay.”

  Magnus snapped his mouth shut and gave the smallest nods.

  Gideon had no doubt that Magnus could talk the queen into letting him go. It was obvious that the queen had a soft spot for the guy. But Gideon had had enough. Diplomacy be damned. He knew if he remained, his mouth would eventually get him into even more trouble, the sort that would make his father kill him. A few hours in a hole was preferred over that fate. So he let himself get hauled down the corridor. It was just the two warriors. Neither spoke while they marched him to the very back of the castle and down a set of winding, gold steps. The air was musty and tinged with the stench of mold. The steps were slick with water that dripped from the ceiling and down the walls. Lights shone up the reflective gold surface from some source below, guiding them.

  There was no gold in the dungeon. The precious material stopped at the base of the stairs. The rest were dull, gray slabs of rock and iron. Gloom was held at bay solely by the singular torch illuminating a series of bars and dark cells. Gideon shuddered at the idea of spending the night in such a place, but his pride refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him waver.

  “So, what time can I expect the girls?”

  The cell door was wrenched open with a piercing shriek and he was shoved inside without a response. One cuff was undone from around his right wrist and redone in front of him. Then both arms were lifted and fastened to a chain four feet off the damp ground, leaving him no choice but to sit with his arms over his head.

  “I’m getting the feeling you guys don’t like me overly much,” he decided as the cold concrete bit into the bare flesh of his backside and the length of his spine.

  It was definitely not comfortable and he had a feeling it would get worse before the night was over, but he smirked at the two when they pulled back, satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Never pegged you two as the bondage type. What’s next? Feathers? Blind folds? Oh, the whip?”

  Gio looked like he wanted to punch Gideon again. But the other guy placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him out.

  “Aw, come on, don’t be such teases!” he called after them.

  The cell door slammed shut with a resounding clang. It nearly muffled Gio’s low growl, but Gideon heard it and grinned. He listened as their footsteps echoed off the steps and then disappeared altogether. Silence followed, broken only by the occasional plop of water dripping into a puddle. He was apparently the only prisoner, because the other cells were deathly silent.

  Great, he thought, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling, which was cloaked in thick, black shadows.

  He shut his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep before his ass cheeks became too numb to bear. Donning a loincloth in some stupid attempt to pacify a moronic queen had evidently been a very bad idea.

  Gideon sighed. Well, at least he’d tried. He had done what his parents had always taught him to do when in another’s home: he had been respectful and courteous and yet ... it had come around to bite him in the ass and all because of three little punks. Served him right. He should have left diplomacy to his father and Octavian. Playing nice wasn’t his game. He didn’t have the mouth for it. Magnus didn’t have the patience for it and Reggie just didn’t give a shit.

  It was during his own reprimanding when Gideon heard the shuffle of feet. Part of him hoped they were bringing another prisoner down, while another, the part that worried about his ass cheeks turning blue, prayed he was being released. Something jingled. It sounded like keys and his heart jumped. He watched the door and waited as a shadow spilled across the ground on the other side.

  Valkyrie stepped into view. She held a dagger in one hand and keys in the other. Gideon had never been so happy to see anyone.

  “Hey baby,” he said cheerfully. “I’m damn glad to see you.”

  The keys in her hand rattled as she pushed the right one into the keyhole and twisted. The hinges squealed as the door swung open. She stepped inside.

  Gideon dared a glance at the steel shackles binding him to the wall, then to the leather clad woman towering over him, dagger in hand.

  “I had a dream that started like this,” he mused casually. “Although, I wasn’t wearing pants and you were telling me what a bad boy I’d been.”

  Valkyrie continued to study him wordlessly. Her expression was hindered by the dim glow in the chamber, but something in her posture gave him pause.

  “Kyrie?” He yanked against the chains, his senses telling him something was wrong. “Unbind me.”

  The dagger struck the floor first. The hilt bounced off the top of her boot and flew a few feet away. The keys went n
ext. They hit the ground with a crack and lay silent.

  “Valkyrie!” Gideon twisted against his binds to no avail.

  Without a word, she swayed forward. Her boots scuffled against concrete as she closed the space between them. Gideon’s heart rampaged as one horrific thought after another invaded his mind. His very soul died a little with the need to reach for her, to sooth the cyclone of emotions he could feel coming off her. One raged louder and harder than the others. It was a violent force slamming and whipping around her like blades. Each slash cut into him until he could scarcely breathe.

  It was fear. The worst sort of terror. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  “Valkyrie, pick up the keys,” he urged, trying to keep his voice even. “Get the keys, baby.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Valkyrie!”

  Right before his eyes, she crumpled.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Valkyrie!”

  She hit the ground on all fours. Her dark hair swung over her shoulders to form thick curtains around her bent face. She was visibly shivering like all the cold in the dungeon were seeping into her. Gideon wondered if the cell was enchanted to keep people from leaving, or breaking in. If maybe she had walked into some magical trap and it was hurting her.

  “Get out,” he told her. “You need to leave! Get up!”

  The low whine of her every breath reached his ears. Her back shuddered and her fingers curled into fists.

  “I ... can’t!” Her voice was low and raspy.

  “Yes, yes you can!” he insisted. “Come on. Get up.”

  She shook her head, making her hair swing around her face. Ever so slowly, her head lifted. Her hair fell back to reveal her pale face streaked with tears.

  Gideon’s gut clenched. His temper flared. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

  “No one,” she whispered.

  Something had changed. Her voice was low and throaty and she was watching him in a way he was quickly recognizing as arousal. Even the air about her had shifted. The chill of terror had receded. She was no longer shivering. Her movement as she slid her frame forward was slow and confident, like a huntress on the prowl.