Malicious King: A Paranormal Royal Romance (Territorial Mates Book 6)

by Mary E. Twomey

  Adeline.’”

  Fury doesn’t begin to describe the look on Benny’s face, but all I feel is shock as the note crumples in his fist and he stalks out the door, leaving me to ponder if I’ll live long enough to see my fiancée again.

  Chapter Nine

  Interrogations by Daylight

  Adeline

  To say the queen is a novice at riding on horses is an understatement. She hasn’t fallen off, so tha’s grand, but I keep a close eye on her as she bounces unsteadily. Her mare has no faith in Lilya’s ability to lead, and is giving her a bumpy ride out of spite, I’m guessing.

  My horse is a pure black steed meant for racing in open fields. Well, it’s not my horse exactly. Technically, it’s a stolen horse. I hope Ronin doesn’t mind. Tha whole “what’s yours is mine” speech is truly being put to the test, now tha I’ve made off on his personal horse, took a satchel from his closet and stuffed it full of food from his larder.

  I’m not worried about Ronin being angry; I’m worried about him dying. All other concerns take a backseat to tha horror. He didn’t look sick when I left, but it’s only a matter of time. If the blood supply is tainted, someone’s after the eradication of an entire race.

  I’m used to seeing Lilya in her long white gowns, but she looks far more natural in the black fitted pants and tailored guard’s beige button-down. Her lavender curls are in a messy bun atop her head, and as we slow to a trot after turning the corner, I can’t help but wonder if she’s just as surprised at the direction her life has taken as the rest of the world is. She carries herself like a queen. Did she always? Is tha something a person can learn?

  I dismount, keeping quiet, though any movement outside will hit the vampiric ears as strange. Not a soul’s supposed to be milling about in the sunlight, for fear of burning to death. Yet here we are, walking with full noonday light shining down upon the scandal.

  How I’ve missed the sun kissing my skin.

  It’s our fifth stop since we slipped out of the castle. We’ve gotten to the point where we can communicate with punctuated gestures and jerks of our chins.

  Lilya moves toward the front door but I hold up my hand, then tap the hilt of the dagger on my thigh holster, reminding her tha I’m to go in first. If things turn foul, I’m still the guard and she’s still the queen. I’ll take the hits, not her.

  Three sharp bangs of my fist on the wood startle even Lilya, but she manages to compose herself when the voice comes from the other side.

  “It’s noon!” the vampire points out in accusation.

  I don’t blame him for not opening the door. Though most homes have a long awning to shade the doorway from accidental sunlight slipping through cracks along the doorframe, no one’s suicidal enough to actually open the door of their own volition during daylight hours.

  “Then ye should step back,” I order. “Unlock your door for the queen.”

  The three seconds of shock are to be expected. The click of the lock is much appreciated. I had to kick in the door of the third house we visited, which is more drama than I like.

  “Are ye back from the stretch of the sun?”

  “I am. Come in.”

  I’m respectful enough not to swing the door open all the way, and make sure to let in the minimum amount of light, so as not to spook Mister Veasle.

  My arm is up, ready to block, in case this goes the way of the last house we visited. I know I’ll be sporting a bruise on my ribs from tha one.

  But Mister Veasle is in his long underwear, looking a bit dopey and unprepared for us. “How can I help the throne?” He scratches a bald patch atop his head.

  “The attack on Drexdenberg is coming in the form of the blood supply being tainted. It’s not a poison, not a curse, but people aren’t recovering from the fever it’s causing. Your countrymen are dying.”

  Lilya takes over, stepping toward him, but still staying near the half-opened door. It’s our insurance policy, in case the homeowner lunges for us. All we need to do is step into the sunlight to get them to back off.

  Lilya’s tired, but she presents herself with authority. “You’re in charge of taking the shipments of blood from the border and delivering them to the dispensary, are you not?”

  “Yes, your majesty. I’ve been working that job for a decade now.”

  She moves close enough to place her hand on his arm. It’s a delicate touch, but the intent is far more weighted than kindness. Her ring fleshes out the truth, so when she asks him the next question, I hold my breath. “Do you know how the blood supply’s been tainted?”

  “No, your majesty. I just pick up the shipments from the border and take them into Drexdenberg. I don’t even open the boxes. I just count the packages, take my inventory and deliver them where they’re supposed to go.”

  Her shoulders droop. “You’re telling the truth. Thank you.”

  He bristles at the insinuation, but something in the way his eyes dart to the side pushes me toward distrust.

  I’m not finished with him. “Do ye know what the blood’s been tainted with?”

  Lilya’s hand remains on his wrist as he answers. “No.”

  Lilya nods once to me, letting me know he’s telling the truth.

  “Do ye have any suspicions of who’s behind this?”

  The struggle on his face tells me I’m finally on the right track. “Everyone has suspicions. I’m no different.”

  I grip the door and inch it further open. It’s nowhere near touching him, but the threat is clear. All Lilya has to do is tug him forward while I throw the door open the rest of the way, and his long life will come to an end. It’s a threat we don’t have to own up to by speaking it aloud. One I only feel mildly bad about, given the level of danger in store if we don’t get to the bottom of this.

  “Okay! Wait! It’s just a suspicion.”

  Lilya’s jaw ticks. “That’s a lie. You know who’s behind this.”

  “I can’t know. I overhear things sometimes when I pick up my shipments, is all. They could be full of shite.”

  “Tell us what ye know!” I shout, unwilling to let this lead slip through our fingers.

  Mister Veasle holds up his hands and then gets down on his knees. Lilya’s touch never leaves him as he finally spills his secrets. “They don’t pay attention to me. I’ve been the regular pickup for a decade, so sometimes I collect the packages without them taking much notice.”

  Tha’s not unbelievable. He looks unremarkable, with his thinned hair, portly stomach, stout stature and a face tha conveys he’s the type to apologize for breathing too loud.

  “A few weeks ago, a couple of fae I didn’t recognize took over for the regular delivery handlers. I know all the faces of the fae delivery persons. But these ones were different. They didn’t make eye contact with me. They didn’t have names visible on their badges. When I asked them where the regular delivery people were, they said they’d been replaced.” Mister Veasle shrugs. “I didn’t think much of it, but now that everyone’s getting sick, maybe something went wrong on the fae end?”

  Lilya angles her chin over her shoulder and gives me a nod, indicating he’s telling the truth. “Were you able to get their names?”

  “No. But they were both wearing the uniform of the fae guard, if that helps narrow things down.”

  My stomach lurches, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “They were soldiers?”

  “Soldiers or guards?” Lilya demands, her volume climbing. “Did they have all white uniforms, or were they also wearing sashes across their chests?”

  “Sashes,” Mister Veasle answers. “Is that bad?”

  Lilya helps him to stand and shakes his hand. “Tell no one of our visit. Thank you for being of help to the Drexdenberg throne. You can go back to bed, sir. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  “Wait, what does that mean?”

  I’m already out the door, but Lilya turns in the exit and offers a wan smile. “It means I will fight for Drexdenberg, and get to the bottom of
this for you.”

  With tha, she shuts the door behind her, then struggles with the stirrup to mount her horse. I’m glad she lets me help her up; it’s painful to watch.

  “So the problem isn’t the Territorialists,” I say as we cantor in the direction of the fallen border between Drexdenberg and Faveda. “It’s the fae behind this whole thing?”

  “It’s not the fae; it’s King Fairbucks.”

  “Alexavier’s father is behind this? Why would ye think tha?”

  She nods. “Only the royal guards wear sashes in Faveda.”

  Dread coils like black smoke in my body, taking over every shred of sunny optimism.

  “Lexi’s father warned us when we forced his hand to unify the three territories that he wasn’t happy. I knew he would find a way to retaliate for us forcing unity on him.” Her voice is weighted with sadness. “I didn’t realize he had this much hatred in him, though. I thought if he did try to get back at Lexi and me for encouraging his wife to sign the peace treaty without his consent, the attack would be against us. But he’s not going to take me down; he’s going to take down one of my territories.”

  I swallow hard, putting the pieces in the most logical order. “He would murder an entire race?”

  “I would bet all the lives in Drexdenberg on it.” Lilya looks resolute, her jaw stiff and her focus on our end goal.

  She’s putting things together so fast; I worry it can’t be actually true. “Tha feels like a lot of leaps. Before we go accusing a king of mass genocide, should we follow the list and see where it leads us? Maybe we should question the fae distributors first.”

  She dares loosen her grip from the reins to hold up her ring. “No need. If King Fairbucks turns out to be a dead end, we’ll go back to the list.”

  She’s got diplomatic immunity, plus, her station is above King Fairbucks’, being tha she’s queen of the three territories.

  But I don’t have any of tha safeguarding me. If I go in, I don’t have the same protections keeping me from being charged for harassing the fae king. I could be deported. I could be locked away in a fae prison, hoping anyone finds me there.

  It takes all my gumption to keep my horse on its steady pace. I want to turn back. Jays, part of me wants to hand this responsibility onto someone else. The brunt of the vampire population loathes my very existence. They hate my people, sure, but since Ronin brought me into the public eye, it’s me specifically they can aim their whispers and jeers at. And I’m supposed to risk my neck to save them from annihilation?

  But it’s the right thing to do, so I know my path.

  We ride as fast as Lilya can handle, and long past what either of us should be doing, tired as we are. It’s a few days to Faveda by carriage, but on horseback, we can cut tha time in half if we don’t stop for pesky things like sleep or sustenance.

  Hours pass with nothing but silence between us as we process all we’re about to do. Night falls as we pass into the outskirts of Faveda, our horses slowing so we can feed and water them, along with ourselves, before we cross over into a place we’re both not exactly welcome.

  We eat in silence before stretching out our legs and then getting back atop our horses, who I’m pretty sure hate us by this point.

  As we ride through the greenery of Faveda at nightfall, it begins to dawn on me tha I’m the only thing standing between the queen of the world and all of her enemies, which are more than a few. If danger comes for her, I’ve not reacquainted myself enough with Lalita since her transformation. Is she still a fighter? Would it be wise to bring her about if a brawl ensues?

  Relying on my dagger feels like bringing a stick to a war. For now, I put my hope in diplomacy, in the system, which hasn’t actually been all tha big a help to me thus far.

  The trees in Faveda are incredible, distracting me with their towering beauty. Every kind of fruit imaginable dangles from branches, while we’re never too far from the sound of a babbling brook.

  “Ye left all this to rule in Drexdenberg?” I marvel at the lush green tha seems to jump with its brightness, even in the evening light. The grass is infinitely greener, and I can tell Lalita wants to roll around in it.

  “I didn’t have much choice when I was a kid. I was taken away from Faveda against my will. Then as an adult, I didn’t want to go back to the duplicity. Plus, I’m actually on the throne with Des in Drexdenberg, now that Ronin’s retired. They need me more there than they do in Faveda, what with King Fairbucks and Queen Kloe still ruling.” She frowns at the thick shrubbery as we ride past. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Of course.”

  “Queen Kloe isn’t well. Consumption keeps her bedridden a good portion of her days. It’s why Lexi doesn’t visit Drexdenberg all that often. He doesn’t want her to die alone.”

  My eyes close. “I had no idea.”

  “That’s the think about secrets. No one does. King Fairbucks wants her sickness kept private, so no one knows the royal family has problems.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Exactly. The whole thing turns my stomach. All the prettiness of Faveda is usually cloaked in lies. I don’t have the patience for it. Lexi is ready to take the fae throne the moment it’s handed to him. I can only hope I’m ready when the time comes.”

  “You’ll be ready,” I assure her. “I can’t imagine you tolerating being bad at anything. Plus, people tend to rise to the bar that’s been set for them. If we’re right, and King Fairbucks is trying to take down the vampire people, the current bar for decency isn’t all tha high.”

  “You think I’ll be good at it when it’s my time?”

  “I do. People want to be led somewhere better. War is not better. Petty hatred is not better. It’s a distraction from better. They might resist ye at first, but you’re good at leading with confidence, no matter if you’re the most popular lass at the table.”

  Lilya lets out a snigger. “I like the way you see me. I wish I had that confidence in my ability to rule. Most days, I’m just winging it, hoping no one starts too big a fight.”

  We share a smile as we ride. It’s not the first time I’ve been grateful Lilya is who she is, especially on this trek. “Do ye think Destino’s going to be mad tha we went off without telling him?”

  Lilya shrugs, but I can tell this point sticks in her chest. “Probably. But at the end of the day, I’ll take a little anger if it saves his life. What about Ronin?”

  “I think he’ll be more scared than angry, but yeah, it’s going to be a conversation.” I smirk at her. “Which we’ll be able to have, because he’ll still be alive, and not starved to death.”

  “I like you,” Lilya admits, and then leans forward, making her body less resistant to the wind so we can race forward and shave yet more time off our journey.

  Suddenly, the ride doesn’t feel like a trek, but like a fun race. We ride as fast as our steeds tolerate, until the tall spires of the ivorum palace comes into view some time well past midnight. The palace sparkles even in the moonlight.

  I’ve never seen anything so grand.

  Our horses are tired of us, so we dismount and walk them through the quiet of the pre-dawn atmosphere. The warm climate makes the whole place feel cozy, coupled with the plush grass tha’s softer than any ground I’ve ever felt. “Lalita would love to roll around on this.”

  “Lalita’s a smart animal. They infuse the grass with lamb’s ear, so it’s far softer than anywhere else. I remember the first time I set foot on regular grass in Jacoba and in Neutral Territory as a little girl, and thinking it was thorns.”

  She plucks a plum from a tree and hands it to me, taking another for herself. Part of me wants to run the rest of the way to the fae palace and get to the bottom of this whole thing, but taking this quiet time is a good idea. It won’t do anyone any favors if we get there all winded and hungry.

  Though, there’s nothing to be done for the exhaustion, which has settled deep in my bones.

  Thoughts of Ronin plague my mind. I couldn’t take it if he w
as sick with the fever, no cure in sight.

  He’ll be fine. Ronin’s always unaffected by the world.

  Lalita has her doubts. She’s worried about his health, though I tell myself tha’s nothing new.

  Yawns overtake any semblance of conversation when we reach the castle some time after midday. We do what we can to tuck them away as we move in through the side entrance, past the guards who bow to Lilya and largely ignore me, but for the disdainful upper lip curls they occasionally throw my way.

  The housekeeper even comes up behind me and sweeps a few feet from my steps, as if I’m tracking in dirt.

  Because I’m a filthy shifter.

  Jays.

  “Take me to Alexavier, please,” Lilya says to the nearest guard. “And send up a pot of your strongest tea.”

  “Right away, your majesty.”

  “And please summon the king and queen, as well. There’s much to discuss.”

  The guard scurries off, and I have half a mind to follow him, making sure he does as he’s told. I can’t tell whether my intuition is spot on, or if I’m completely off. I’m too exhausted to decipher the difference between sanity and unreality.

  Lilya is tired, but she moves with confidence through the hallways, leading us to a sitting room with nothing but white furniture.

  The moment the guard leaves us, her shoulders droop. “If nothing else, I’ve learned I can handle exhaustion with dignity. Good to know.” She pats the spot next to her on the white couch.

  “No, thanks. I’m dirty.” I wince at the admission. The stereotype of the filthy shifter isn’t something tha’s easily shaken. It’s engrained so deep not to let the outside world be right tha I’ll stand, rather than risk a mud stain on the upholstery, no matter how on the edge of collapse I may be.

  The pot of tea arrives with Alexavier. “Lily-girl! I had no idea you were coming to visit. Where’s Des? Is Salem with you?” He scoops her up in a hug, kissing his wife in a manner so strangely grand and yet still intimate, I’m not sure if I should be looking.