Kingdom of Fire Page 3

  Considering the omen, this feels like stolen love, and that makes me deepen the kiss even more, wanting more of her, trying to become one with her. I can’t help feeling this is a love that’s doomed, a union that’s bound to be broken by death.

  “Wait, Xerxes,” she says, trying to push herself away from me, but I lean in after her and reclaim her mouth. I grab her thighs and lift her up, giving her no choice but to wrap her legs around my hips, soft flesh over mail armor.

  She is so fragile in my arms, I could break her way too easily. The feeling puts a knot in my throat. I spin around with her in my arms and drop with her on the bed, breaking the kiss and going down on her. I rip her red lace panties and sink my face in her pussy, just like I wanted to from the start, when thunder rips through the sky.

  It’s a strange sound, like nothing I’ve heard before.

  I jump to my feet, facing the large paneless window. As in all fae realms, we don’t like glass to separate us from our environment, we’re one with it, so I can scrutinize the volcanic landscape, and feel it in my flesh when I activate my powers.

  “What’s happening?” Cerys yelps behind me.

  “Something’s not right.” I turn to her.

  Her lips quiver. She sits there on the edge of the royal bed, her nipples piercing through the half-transparent red veils of her gown. She’s completely naked underneath. If this sound means what I think it does she needs to change, she’ll need much more protection than that gown has to offer.

  Thunder rips through the skies again, and any doubt I had vanishes.

  “Quickly, get dressed. We’re under attack.”

  “We’re what?” She jumps from the bed, her eyes wide.

  A vision of the bouquet runs through my head, the white petals burning away as if devoured by ash and ember.

  “Do it, now!”

  She bolts to the wardrobe and opens it widely. The first thing that falls into her hands is a green camouflage catsuit that she quickly slips into.

  I use the time to get into my royal armor. It’s heavier and flashier than what I usually wear, which means I’ll stand out as the King, and any strategy involving surprise is off the table. Cerys and I will be walking targets. I grab her hand, emitting thick shadow that rises off my body like strings of smoke. It should help us keep a low profile.

  It hits me that, for the first time ever, I don’t know who’s attacking us. I have eyes and ears everywhere, spies, intelligence agents. Never in my entire history did I fail to foresee a surprise attack like this. An attack on my own realm, of all things. How could this happen?

  I scoop Cerys up in my arms, with Nazarean curled at her chest, and slide down the banister of the grand spiraling stairs.

  “Close your eyes, and keep your head at my chest,” I tell her as we pick up speed.

  “Why?” she protests.

  “You’re only parahuman, Cerys. Unless you want to get sick as hell, do as I say.”

  She does, and we slide so fast the landings flash by us like the dizzying lights of big city traffic on fast forward. I land on my feet at the ground floor, where it looks like all of Hell has broken loose.

  Things settle down as eyes turn to me, and I walk in their midst, Cerys close behind me. I wish she would take her rightful place by my side, she is my equal as my Queen, but she ignores my body language and falls back.

  It’s not like her, but I suppose we’ll have to discuss that later.

  “Milord,”Draven says, hurrying over in his leather-and-metal fighting outfit, his black cape billowing behind him. “The realm borders are under attack. Forces from Hell, trying to break down our defenses. There are demons, giants, trolls, all sorts of creatures from the pit.”

  “What in the cursed realms.” My eyes become slits as I weigh the possibilities in my head. “Why are they attacking us, what’s wrong with them?”

  I can sense Cerys tense behind me. As her fated mate I have a direct line to her emotions, and for a moment it feels like she has the answer, but it can’t be real.

  “I’m sorry, this is my failure. I’m the head of the Fire Court Intelligence, I should have known this was coming.” Draven bows his head.

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” I say as I keep scanning possibilities in my head. “We’ve been having a lot of meetings about future strategies now that so much has changed, plus the wedding, you had too much to attend to.”

  “No, Xerxes.” He steps closer, now we’re eye to eye. In private, we’re on a first name basis. Duke Draven Ferox is the best intelligence agent and strategist of all my courts, he’s loyal to the bone, and he’s got multiple aces up his sleeve. Few people know, but everything about him is a weapon, including his cape. Usually, a cape is a drawback for a fighter, but Draven’s is special. He can use it to create illusions, it can make him look like anyone or anything once he flaps it on his arm and covers his face with it.

  “That’s not what I mean,” he explains. “It’s that...” He glances behind me, making sure no one but Cerys is standing close enough to hear. “We have been watching out for attacks from all of the realms, we’ve been keeping an eye out for everyone, but never for Hell. We’ve been monitoring all the realms, including the cosmic areas of Apophis and Orion, but never Hell.”

  Again the feeling hits me that Cerys knows something about this. I turn to her, but she’s not where I expect her to be standing. My heart tightens in my chest. I crane my neck, and spot her as she snakes her way through the crowd. I start after her, calling out her name even though I wanted to avoid that, but now I can no longer help myself. I can’t believe that my new wife, my fated mate, is running away from me, which angers me to a point I haven’t reached ever since I met her.

  People move out of the way as I stomp towards the next hall, noticing my temper changing, especially the fire in my eyes. The people of the Fire Realm are used to their King being composed and in control at all times, and now I must look like a wild animal.

  Cerys has managed to disappear in the crowd, she must have hitched a red cape to mingle with the others. Anguish strangles me.

  “What are you doing, Xerxes,” Draven says when I come to a halt, craning my neck like a beast without direction. “Track her scent, feel for her.”

  Fuck, it’s true what they say about feelings. They interfere with your head. I should have thought about it myself. My nostrils flare as I activate my senses, and keep moving from hall to hall. I can smell the path that she’s taken, her scent of wild lilies mixing with that of her clothes, and her cat. She’s trying to lose me by walking in winding paths through the throng. I look around for her glow, since her face should stand out like a silver moon among fire fae and other fire creatures, but she must be wearing a hood, her hair draped over the sides of her face in order to keep hidden.

  What could she possibly have done to run away from me? And if she’s done something that bad indeed, how the fuck didn’t I sense it? Or did I, and I refused to accept it? It must be something really bad if she’s making a run for it, because she can’t outrun me forever, and she knows it, I’ll find her sooner or later. The Fire Court Palace is huge, it’s true, it’s a whole city in itself, filled with people from courts to guests to servants, my armies and the armies of my courts, but still she doesn’t stand a chance to get lost in the crowd, not for long.

  Outside the castle walls, the sounds of battle rip through the leaden skies like thunder. Draven stops for a moment, his eyes closed as he communicates telepathically with his people, then he comes after me.

  “Xerxes, they discovered who’s leading the attacks,” he says. “It’s Samael.”

  I stop in place. It takes only a second to make all the connections in my head—Cerys’ and my quest for the Firestone, how she channeled the souls of the dead into me, filling me with the power of the underworld. In a split second, things become crystal clear. Samael is here for the power Cerys and I have practically stolen from him.

  My stomach churns. He’s here not only for me, but for
Cerys, too. My anger towards her is gone, wiped away and replaced by worry and a profound sense of love. The reason why she’s running away from me doesn’t even matter anymore. What matters is that she stays safe, no matter what—another effect of the mates’ bond; I will never stop loving her and protecting her, not even in the face of betrayal.

  Damn it.

  “We have to move faster,” I throw to Draven over my shoulder, picking up pace through the crowd that moves out of my way like I’m an incoming panzer.

  The thunder-like sounds rip through the room. They’re breaching our defenses and coming closer.

  “Milord,” Marayke says, stepping in my way. “We need more military at the borders.”

  The need to protect Cerys has all my muscles clenched, and my mind focused sharply on her, but I’m the King, I’m responsible for this entire realm. As long as Cerys is within these walls, she’s safe, but the others out there aren’t, especially the soldiers standing on the crenels, fighting to keep out the creatures emerging from portals everywhere.

  “Portals open like hungry wormholes all around the borders,” Marayke presses. “Whenever we take people away from one post to fill the necessities at another, the attackers use the advantage and open another portal at the weak spot. Demons are flooding in, Milord. People are dying.”

  I growl, making dozens of fae around me cringe. I should have fucking seen this coming. What did I expect, having practically robbed Samael of his souls at the Cemetery of Doom? I spin around, a sword of flames forms in my hand, and I launch towards the main doors. They open wide as I do, sensing my presence and responding to my command. The castle is like a part of my body.

  “Seal all entrances and exits,” I command. “Let no one in, no one out. All the military are coming with me, only a batch of guards is staying back.”

  I lead the way, the soldiers’ steps thudding against the ground behind me, making it shake. Their armor and their weapons clamor, filling the air with the sound of war.

  Because that’s what we’re facing—war. And I know that it somehow has to do with the woman I love. She ran away because she had something to hide. If I’m completely honest, I knew the entire time at the wedding that something was amiss and, in my great stupidity as a man in love, I would even be able to forgive her. We’ve been through too much together, and our bond is too deep.

  But this isn’t only about me, it’s about all my people, about my entire realm. People are dying on the crenels because of what she did.

  “Place guards at the Altar of Worlds,” I tell Marayke. “But make sure they stay hidden, or Cerys won’t approach the portal, and she won’t try to do what I think she intends to do. Have them wear a glamour over their dark energies, too, otherwise the cat will sense them. In fact, you stay behind, too. Make sure you trap the Queen.”

  “The Queen.” There’s reproach in her voice. “How can you still call her that? You clearly know that she betrayed you.”

  “I married her. She is the queen.”

  “Her bouquet caught fire while still in the air,” she screams, anger lacing her words. “She was set on killing you!”

  Fire gathers in the back of my throat. I could spit flames, burn everything in my path.

  “Go!” I snarl, and the whole battalion around me comes to a halt. We’re just at the doors, ready to march out.

  Marayke shrinks back, but still doesn’t leave.

  “You need me,” she hisses through her teeth.

  “I’ve got Draven.”

  Draven steps by my side to enhance the point. Clad in his leather fighting outfit and his black cape, his eyes glowing and intense, he stands by my side like a prince of shadow. I find myself wishing Marayke had fallen in love with him instead of me. They would make a good couple, and I wouldn’t have to see the hurt in her face every time I reject her, which apparently I’m forced to do more and more often.

  Marayke takes distance, but keeps looking back at me to make sure I see how dissatisfied she is with this. I realize that many of my people are staring at me expectantly. The Queen’s betrayal is obvious to all of them, considering the omen, and how she now snuck away from me, leaving me in the middle of a battle.

  “Marayke,” I call. She stops. I hate this but, as the King, I have a duty to my realm, and to the image I’ve made for myself to keep my men loyal. “When you find her, put her in the dungeon.”

  CHAPTER II

  Cerys

  INCREDIBLE, HOW EMPTY this humongous palace seems with most of the army gone. They followed Xerxes into battle, into a war that I have brought to his doorstep. But the guards and some of the soldiers stayed behind, as well as my sworn enemies Marayke the Iron Maiden and her brother the two-faced High Mage, and they are all after me.

  I don’t even want to imagine what will happen if they catch me. I’ll probably wish I’d never been born, so I keep in the shadows, following Nazarean, whose fine nose keeps us on the free paths, and out of trouble.

  Without all the people, this place feels like an abandoned city of old. It’s glamorous, but different from anything I’ve seen before. Since this realm is close to Hell, and resembles it in many ways, the palace walls are made of dark volcanic stone, and dark energy lurks in its shady alcoves. Reddish light from the volcanoes and rivers of fire filters through the archways and windows. Only in the darker levels, those closer to the dungeons, where the secrets are kept and where there is no light from the outside, there are torches and candles, emitting a cozier light that makes me think of Hell less.

  Nazarean and I hide in the alcoves that he smells are empty, moving further towards the Hall of Ceremonies, where the great portal is. Nazarean has been quiet on his paws, purring softly to communicate when someone was too close, and in what direction we should move. As a black cat, he can blend in with the shadows, and use his senses to find our way while avoiding people, but he seems to grow uncertain as we go.

  I manage to hitch a cloak from the wardrobe where the wedding attendees had left their stuff, and keep following Nazarean. He navigates the castle ground floor, managing to keep us away from the patrols, but he stops more and more often, sniffing more, turning around as if he were chasing his own tail, and complaining with soft mewls.

  “You can do this,” I whisper, bending down and stroking him behind his ears, just the way he likes it. I know that it gives him confidence.

  He keeps going, but we stumble upon guards where we didn’t expect them. We manage to slip away in time, but the danger is clearly greater than we thought, and Nazarean’s skills work less than usual for some reason. The cape I’m wearing is dark and shabby, perfect to blend in with the shadows, but it won’t be enough to hide me from all of my pursuers.

  We have to take more detours than I expected, but now I can finally see the grand doors of the Hall of Ceremonies.

  I stop in front of them, staring up at the engraved sculptures on the walls, representations of gargoyles and creatures of the underworld. Tears gather in my throat, and it’s all I can do not to let them stream down my face. All the pressure and anxiety from hiding in the darkness, terrified the patrols might find us, helped keep my feelings numb. But now that layer of numbness rips into threads.

  This is where I married the love of my life only hours ago, even though I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I had made a promise to Samael, but I couldn’t bring myself to break Xerxes’ heart like that, basically leaving him at the altar. I wanted to give him the joy of our wedding, the fulfillment of our union, and then I got greedy and wanted to consummate our marriage, too. I wanted to make him happy one last time, and convey to him, physically, just how much I loved him, make him feel in his blood that I belong to him in body and soul no matter what.

  But now I have to go through with the deal I made with Samael three nights ago, even if it will break Xerxes’ heart beyond repair. Even though he’ll think the worst of me forever. Hell, he probably already does. If Marayke and the patrols are after me, it’s because Xerxes ordered them to. A c
law squeezes my heart just imagining the hurt that I caused him. My soul bleeds.

  Nazarean meows quietly, urging me to walk inside the great hall. We have a window of time now that it’s empty, but we have to move fast. I step inside, walking down the very same aisle as I did hours ago, heading towards the high pillars and the portal, my beautiful Xerxes waiting for me with love in his eyes.

  The sounds of battle reach me, thunders and calls, clamor and war cries. All of this is happening because of me, people are dying because I didn’t give myself over fast enough. Xerxes himself is out there, fighting off the incoming forces of Hell, and it might claim his life if I don’t get to Samael in time.

  Maybe if I throw myself into that portal with my eyes closed tightly and my destination clear in my head, Samael will stop this madness immediately. With me fulfilling the deal, Samael will be forced to fulfill his side of the bargain as well. As the Archangel of Death, he is bound to his promises by Divinity itself.

  But the aisle is long, flower petals still covering the carpet like beautiful corpses, reminders of the love and happiness that could have been, of all I lost. A surge of something similar to hatred rises in my throat. It was Kareim Velduros who did this to me, to Xerxes, to this entire realm. He wanted revenge for the way Xerxes and I had humiliated him. Now, an entire world is paying the price. He’s proving to us that, even though he doesn’t have the magic it takes to be a real High Mage, he’s cunning enough to destroy us all.

  Nazarean pads faster down the aisle, his low purrs turning into growls. He keeps them quiet, but he can feel danger closing in, and so can I. I fix my eyes on the great portal, the Altar of Worlds that whirls slowly in front of me like a huge wormhole made of spiraling clouds. The closer we get, the more intimidating it becomes, like a mass of cosmic power waiting to pull us in and squash us. It resembles a sleeping behemoth.

  Nazarean meows louder, padding faster down the aisle, his tail up and his fur seeming to turn into spikes. That he’s stressed is a mild way to put it. Those searching for us are drawing nearer. As we hurry down the aisle I keep looking back, towards the grand doors.