by Ella Fields
Zad prepared my coffee while I grabbed a goblet of water and drained it. I was tempted to slouch all over my chair, but I gathered some self-control and tucked my legs in, one rising to rest over the other as I reached for a piece of buttered toast.
“Things?” I prompted, taking another sip of water.
He placed a steaming cup of coffee down before me, the porcelain tiny in his large hand, then took a seat in the chair to my right. “He’s not dead yet.”
I coughed, tilting my head as I met his blank gaze. “And that is your concern now, is it?”
Zad sat with the stillness of a predator, his black jacket pressed to perfection, hinting at the lean yet powerful form beneath with the way it sat and draped over his muscular shoulders. A ruse, the finery, to hide what lurked beneath.
He drank some coffee, then set his cup down. “I do not pretend to know everything, but I do know one thing. I cannot vow to you when he is no longer in exile.” With a coldness that threatened to engulf my skin in chills, he shifted his lips and fixed his golden eyes upon me. “He needs to die, and you’re prolonging it.”
“He will die, and I alone will make sure of it.” I tore at a piece of buttery toast, chewing hard. If he thought he could return here and boss me around…
“You’re still in love with him.”
The bread seemed to expand in my throat, and I had to force it down with coffee. “Is one even capable of love when they no longer have a heart?”
Zad studied me. “Oh, you have one. It’s just a little more… dead than usual.”
That pulled a smile from me. “You speak the truth.”
“Always.” His eyes danced over my face, falling to my mouth.
I bit my lip but decided to keep things from going any further. “He will meet his end when he understands the multitude of ways he caused me to meet my own.”
“Dramatic.” Long, deft, thick fingers tapped a slow beat over the table.
My thighs clamped together. I knew what he was doing, so I tore my eyes away. “It is what it is, Lord. You don’t like it? Leave. I’d rather not vow ever again anyway.”
A caress and a threat, he crooned, “You think me so easily cast aside?”
I speared him with a raised brow and low words. “My word is my word. I will abide by it if you abide by what I’ve said.” I leaned forward, my elbows hitting the table. “Touch him and I’ll end you.”
He didn’t so much as blink, but he couldn’t hide the instant clenching of his jaw.
I let the words hang there, then straightened and finished my toast as Mintale arrived, sputtering about court beginning at noon.
I tossed my napkin down. “It cannot be that time of the month already.”
“That’s what most females say,” Zad muttered into his cup.
Mintale muffled his laughter behind his hair-flecked hand.
“Any word from Berron?” He along with some of our top guards were doing their best to keep control of the Sun Kingdom. The law wouldn’t hold much longer. Not with the resistance growing. I needed to devise a better way to keep order, but every idea, short of setting fire to their entire kingdom, seemed futile.
“Not yet. But I did check on the, uh, on your, ah…” At my scowl, he got to the point. “Raiden, seeing as it’s been some time since you’ve been down there.”
Of course, he had. “He doesn’t need food when he’s doomed anyway.”
Mintale shifted on his feet, eyes downcast on the cup of tea he lifted to his lips.
“And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“He was hallucinating,” Mintale said, lowering his tea with a tightness to his forehead that indicated he was concerned.
My hand curled, and what remained of my coffee soon decorated the floor and the broken porcelain beside my chair. “What?”
Cheeks wobbling, Mintale nodded. “He was mumbling incoherent things, which alerted the guards, who then alerted me.”
“How long was he hallucinating for?”
Zad’s eyes were stalking, unwilling to move from me.
Mintale’s lips flattened. “They said most of the night. They thought he was playing another game, testing another way to appeal to someone’s softer side—another attempt at freedom.”
My hand met my forehead, rubbing. “So he was hallucinating—for hours—and no one thought to inform me until now?”
Zad’s magic stirred, his discomfort and ire practically bleeding into the room to mingle with my own.
“Well, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t think you’d care, my queen.”
After gaping at him for untold seconds, I closed my eyes, reciting all the reasons, aside from being a fixture in our lineage for most of my father’s life, Mintale was important to me. The most important being his unbreakable loyalty.
“Mintale, do not keep anything from me again. Not one single thing.” My voice was gentle, a feathered wind over his face. Though he’d be stupid not to take it for the warning it was. “Now go fetch Truin to find out why this could be happening.”
Mintale paled, dropping his cup and saucer to the table before bowing. “Of course.”
Zadicus watched him leave, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “Interesting.”
“I don’t know what to believe.” I feared heading down there, wondering if it was indeed a hoax.
Zad turned to me, leaning forward with an elbow planted on the table. “The spellcaster said she cannot undo the suppressing.”
I swallowed more water, then grabbed an apple to take with me to my rooms. “No, but it is just that. A suppressing.” I stood and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “I have faith that he will remember what he’s done to me and to this continent before his lights go out once and for all.”
I took a crunching bite from the glossy red fruit, my leather training pants creaking as I sashayed to the door.
“You? Have faith?” Zad questioned with laughter, like the obnoxious worm he was. “Wait, you’re feeding him memories?”
I stopped with my back to him in the arched doorway. “Unless you know of another way, my lord, then yes, that is precisely what I’m doing.”
Raiden was sitting in the corner of his cell, knees drawn tight to his chest and his head bent sideways, staring at a slice of light leaking in through a tiny gap in the stones. “You’re back.”
I almost faltered but kept moving forward to take my perch upon the blood-marred table, fingers digging into the wood. He didn’t look at me, so I peered around his cell, taking note of the pail in the corner attracting tisks. “You’ve been acting a little crazy, I hear.”
“Nothing for you to worry your evil head about.”
I scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. That’s not what I came here for.”
He did look at me then, slowly, as if he was mentally preparing himself for the sight of me.
I was still wearing my training gear. The leather pants snug around my legs and hips, rising over my stomach to rest beneath the beige thermal covering my breasts and arms.
His eyes began their journey at my wolf skin boots, taking their time to roam the length of my body. When they met mine, I felt my lips part, and a small breath burst free. His skin seemed a shade paler, and his eyes, rimmed with shadows, lacked their usual translucency.
“Did our first meeting affect you, Prince?” I kept hope, that pesky bitch, in its place.
“Stomach flu,” he muttered, turning away to stare back at that tiny source of light. “And I’ve already told you, though I’m sure it’s wasted breath, that I’m no prince. And if you ask me, you’re definitely no queen.”
My nails scored into the wood, pieces chipping away and crumbling to the floor. “It is an act of treason to insult a queen.”
“Yeah?” he said. “Well, from what I gather, I’m dead anyway. So fuck it.” He turned back to face me, then did one better than that, and rose on shaking legs to grab the silver bars. “You’re no better than the scum beneath our nails, the shit stuck b
eneath the soles of our boots, and the scorpions that try to kill us in those precious mines of yours.” He spat at the ground beneath my feet, then grinned before swaying and retaking his seat in the corner of his cell. “Queen.”
“They’re your mines too.” I felt the need to remind him, darkness knew why. With a thought and a flick of my wrist, the gate to his cell unlocked, and Raiden gaped as it swung open. “Now lick that filth off the floor before I send you to your grave earlier than planned.”
He wore another grin as he stepped outside his cell and stopped before me. The words were low and hissed. “Fuck you.”
Rage gathered my fingers. Throwing him to the floor, I watched as his hands slapped at the straw-littered concrete in time to stop his face from colliding with it.
Then I jumped down, my boot digging into his lower back as he tried to rise. “Lick it or die.”
“I bet you need to say that to all the males.” With clenching teeth, I waited. “I said, oh, dearest queen… fuck you.”
He clearly had no concern for his own well-being.
So be it.
“How about that wife of yours, then? Oh”—I clicked my tongue—“I should say almost wife. Do you think she’d like to keep her pretty ring finger in order for you to dress it with a filthy piece of jewelry?”
I felt the shift in him. Felt it travel from his spine into the sole of my boot and foot, sending a shockwave of disbelief with another knife to my decaying heart.
“You took her.” Not a question, but a frail murmur of fear.
“Foolish Prince.” My laughter was genuine, and I sank my foot into his back, forcing him to flatten to the ground as I hunched over him and hissed, “I’m no scorpion. What I am is her worst fucking nightmare if you so much as breathe wrong in my direction again.”
“Don’t,” he gritted out, his cheek crushed against the concrete. “Okay. Fine, okay.”
I removed my foot and stepped back, folding my arms over my chest as I watched him lick his own phlegm from the stained, vermin-traveled ground.
When he was done, I kicked him in the stomach. “Now get back in your cage.”
It shut with a clang after he’d hauled himself back inside, wiping at his mouth with the ratty sleeve of his white cotton tunic. The same one he’d planned to marry that scum in was now discolored from sweat and countless other wonderful things.
“Sit,” I said, shaking out my arms and rolling my shoulders as I paced in slow circles around the torture table. I had half a mind to tie him to it and leave him to rot while I headed upstairs to have Zad put his mouth between my thighs. A nice way to help me forget all about the male who tortured and molested every part of me without touching me at all.
Alas, I was here, and who knew when I’d scrounge up the energy he seemed to deplete so easily to return again.
“I’m not a dog.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, kicking the bars with a pout. “Did you say something?”
He grimaced and then closed his eyes as his head fell back against the wall behind it.
“Are you ready for more?”
“Would you care if I said no?”
“No.”
He waved a hand as I retook my seat upon the table. “Then by all means.”
19 summers old
“Princess, please hold still.” Irma yanked on my hair.
I hissed, then plucked the brush from her hand and smacked her with it before handing it to Lura to finish the job.
“Pull it out,” I said, studying the crimson rouge on my lips, the shadowed kohl lining my blue eyes. “I said no updo. This is a ball, not a burial.”
Irma got busy fussing over my dress in the doorway, billows of steam rising from her hands to smooth any creases. Her father was a noble who’d stepped out on his wife with a human woman, resulting in Irma—as well as all other half breeds when they came of age—being surrendered into service to the crown.
Some half breeds were born with magic—mostly elemental abilities—though those abilities often paled in comparison to the royal whom they’d inherited them from. Others were born with nothing more than greater strength, sharper senses, and a longer lifespan than the average human. Even if whatever gifts they’d stolen were of little match for a true royal, Rosinthe had thought it safer to keep those with power they shouldn’t possess under the watchful eye of the crown. Doing so also ensured the high royal bloodline remained pure.
Royals could sully themselves with whomever they wished, but to procreate with a human was an embarrassment many feared. Yet, of course, there were always enough fools about who thought of little else when faced with temptation.
Why anyone would be tempted, I never wanted to know.
My gown was made from many a badger’s coat, and dyed and spelled a rose red. A little black fur trim remained to line the bodice and edging, which would make even more of a statement courtesy of the crinoline beneath.
Lura heated my hair into soft waves around my face and neck, leaving it to spiral over my breasts and shoulder blades.
After helping me into my dress, I was spritzed with vanilla orchid oil and puffed with a plume of powder before being escorted out the door to the stairs and my waiting guard.
My palms grew clammy the closer we drew to the doors of the ballroom, and I frowned, pausing in the hall and demanding my guard go on ahead of me.
A few servants whistled by. Platters of smoked fish and spiced chicken scented the air of the otherwise empty, drafty hallway. From the rafters hung swaying tapestry displaying our kingdom’s sigil—a full, glowing moon pressed between the horns of a furbane.
I blinked, imagining the rush of my blood slowing, and the tapestry settled, but I struggled to slow the fluttering of my heart.
He would be here. After all, this was a ball to celebrate our commitment to vow. I was supposed to meet him in the hall at the western entrance of the ballroom so we could enter together. But I’d purposely run late and told my handmaidens those plans had changed.
This is ridiculous. I was acting as if he were the first male to ever arouse interest from me.
He wasn’t. Many males had taken my fancy. Berron might have been the only one I allowed inside my body—he was the only male I trusted in this kingdom—but that didn’t mean I didn’t take pleasure in having other hands and mouths upon me whenever the chance to sneak away arrived.
Feeling the flush in my cheeks, I decided that it was his parting words.
He’d made a scene out of my dalliance, and though I wasn’t embarrassed, I didn’t appreciate feeling as though I wasn’t on a level battlefield.
Those parting words and the way he’d left me to stand there, then act kosher in front of our tense fathers were also the reasons I’d decided to one-up him and arrive on my own.
“I am robbed of breath.”
Spinning in the direction of the whispered words, I came face to face with my betrothed.
I didn’t bother with formalities and instead, took my time drinking in his towering form. Dressed in fitted black pants and a matching tunic embroidered with gold that looked as though it’d burst at his shoulders, I found my own lungs drying.
He wore a coat lined with the same rose red as my gown, and my eyes darted up to his.
He read the question in them. “Your father was so kind as to inform me of your wardrobe choices.”
“Of course, he was.” My tone was dry, crisp.
Raiden rolled his lips together, slowly releasing them with a lick of his tongue.
My knees quaked, and the tapestry began to stir and tremble once more.
He peered up at it, then at me, his knowing smile maddening. “If only that trainer of yours had spent more time teaching than coaxing pleasure, huh?” I scowled as he took three steps closer, his scent, apples and singed sugar, suffocating. “Maybe then you’d have a better handle on your…” His finger curled around a lock of my hair, and I shoved it away with a burst of wind. He grinned. “Reactions.”
“I’ve b
een using since I was twelve.” I squared my shoulders and met his grass green eyes. “And it’s often drafty in here.” Technically, I’d come of age at fourteen, but I did have some nifty tricks to use on Mintale and the other staff before then.
He nodded. “I’m sure.” Offering his arm, he said, “Shall we?”
I ignored the muscular limb and turned on my heel toward the ballroom. Dark laughter followed me and then warm heat wrapped around my middle.
Shocked, I growled, matching it with a blast of cold as I looked over my shoulder. “You dare try to trap me?”
He was leaning against the wall, scratching at his smooth, square chin. “You dared to walk away from me.”
“I don’t need an escort.”
A passing server blinked at us, and I sent her tray of creamed crab flying into the wall. She cursed, then fell to her knees, scrambling to pick it all up.
And that was one of the first and only times I’d ever felt what it was like to be disappointed in myself. Not because of what I’d done. I’d done a galaxy’s worse than that.
But because of him, the prince, and the way he looked at me.
Raiden stared with an intensity that seemed to probe and dig around inside every atom of my body, feeling and searching for things long buried.
I looked away, and he strode over to assist the server, who gushed her gratitude, her plump cheeks the color of my dress. Lifting my chin, I swallowed down the slime infesting my chest and pushed open the doors to the ballroom.
Golden light swathed every patron inside, and three thrones sat upon a dais. One for my father, one for Phane, Raiden’s father, and another for his mother, Solnia.
My father was wearing his usual kaleidoscope of colors. Blue trousers, yellow cotton button-down, and a cape made of rich silvers and blacks that shimmered every time he breathed.
His midnight hair was combed back from his face, revealing dark eyes and a clean-shaven jaw.
He winked at me, and I sucked in a breath, forcing a smile before walking forward to greet him. But a hand curled around mine as I wound through the crowd, ignoring the greetings and compliments.