Wicked King Page 6

  “I fucking knew it,” Draven spits through his teeth, his dark eyes ablaze. He’s the best person I know at keeping his feelings in check, his face expressing nothing but focus and power, as if no earthly matters could surprise or move him, but he’s accumulated much animosity against Velduros over time. “That filthy maggot. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to reach his ends, not even wiping the Fire Realm off the face of the universe.”

  Shadow cloaks him as he gives free rein to his hatred. He stares up in the general direction of the attic.

  “You shouldn’t have sent him to the attic. If anything, the bastard is cunning. Having quiet time with himself just gives him the opportunity to come up with new ways of tormenting you and the Queen.”

  “He comes up with ways as it is. I needed these moments of privacy to tell you the truth.”

  “So now you and the Queen have to pretend that you’re separated, letting the entire realm believe that she betrayed us all in order to make this bastard feel like he’s won.”

  “At least to make sure that he doesn’t become even more devious. I failed to discover his plot, which almost got Cerys killed. He killed two of our guards and placed the blame on her, making the entire realm hate her, and me treat her like she was dirt. I won’t underestimate him again.”

  “Even when this is over, it won’t be easy to restore Queen Cerys’ original image in the eyes of your people.”

  “I will have him confess to what he did in front of the entire realm. But until then, we have to focus on more pressing matters. Like the threat Kareim had been looking out for.”

  Another group walks in. They’re boisterous, and already drunk on magically enhanced liquor, but they’re no assassins.

  “We’re not the only ones who weren’t allowed close to the Palace,” Draven argues. “All the others portals opened here as well. So we weren’t singled out.”

  “Yes, but the meeting at the castle is about Samael and me. Having all the others go through Edinburgh was only meant to create confusion.”

  “Speaking of confusion and dust in the eyes. You know you’re gonna have to do what you promised, yes? Zestari will expect you to visit her tonight, and if you don’t...”

  I nod, eyes fixed on the stairs that lead up to the first floor, where Cerys’ room is. “I do. I have to make sure she actually buys it, because she’s already suspicious about Cerys and me, and from there all it takes is a well-placed sentence to open Kareim’s eyes. I can’t risk him suspecting anything.”

  A pair enters the pub, giving off that vibe I’ve been looking out for—murderous intent. My eyes become slits as I watch them approach the counter.

  “Damn it,” Draven says, having picked up on it as well. “A Glamour Anonymous spell.”

  “Fuck.” It’s a spell that dark warlocks use to shield their identity from onlookers. No matter how long you watch them, or how intensely you focus, you can’t put your finger on where you know them from.

  It’s two of them, asking McTarvish for accommodation. He refuses, telling them about Edinburgh being fully booked, but they won’t budge. I rise from the table and head over, my boots thudding against the ground. My thighs feel rock hard, my whole body heavy as I increase the density of my flesh. If they’re going to strike, I need to be prepared, and I don’t know what to expect from behind the shadows that shroud them.

  “Didn’t the man make himself clear?” I cut in, putting my elbows on the counter, right between the two. I can’t even decide what they look like, that’s how powerful the spell is. Whoever cast it, they knew damned well what they were doing. “There’s no accommodation available at this inn.”

  I make eye contact with the bigger one, focusing hard against the veils of shadow. This is a man, and the other one is a woman, I can tell that much. He’s tall, and svelte, strong but not overly muscular. So probably not fae, at least not the warrior kind. Maybe a scholar? Or maybe a warlock. Or maybe a demon, but I can’t pick up the energy of Hell in him.

  But just the instant before the figure smiles and retreats, I do recognize the energy of Tartarus. He heads to the exit but I grab his shoulder, forcing him to yank himself away and swirl around to face me. My hand is ready on a hunting knife strapped to my thigh, but I won’t make a move before he does. This is dangerous in itself, because the only sure way to thwart an attack is to be the first to attack. But I can’t risk doing that here, in front of all these people.

  And interestingly enough, while anger rises from him, it doesn’t feel like his murderous intent is directed at me. He doesn’t strike, and neither do I. But he does come so close that we’re face to face. He’s almost as tall as me, and I know for a fact I’ve met him before.

  “We’ll find something across the road,” he says, his voice unrecognizable. He walks backwards, holding my stare until he reaches the door, then he and his companion close it behind them.

  Complete silence surrounds me for long moments until whispers and clinking fill the space again. I head over to Draven.

  “Keep your eye on the door. From their vibes I don’t think they’re coming back tonight, but you never know.” I pick up my glass of whiskey. “Now I’m gonna do what I have to do.”

  “You’re really gonna go through with it? Are you going to sleep with Zestari? Because I might not know the Queen well, but I’m pretty damned sure she’ll never forgive you for that.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to cheat on Cerys if I wanted to.” I try to suppress the emotion in my voice. I’m still not comfortable with the vulnerability that comes with what I feel for her. “Which is why I need your help.”

  CHAPTER IV

  Cerys

  “Cut that out,” Marayke says, sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard and her booted feet crossed over the covers. “Pacing the room back and forth all night isn’t gonna do anything for you.”

  “Yeah, probably not gonna stop Xerxes from visiting Zestari tonight either. From fucking her,” I spit between my teeth, dark energy emitting from my body and setting fire to the candles on the vanity table. Shadows jump as if from my skin, coating the walls and the corners. I pause, blinking, not sure what happened. If I hadn’t felt the shadows leave my body, I wouldn’t even know they’re there. The room was dark enough from the start.

  “For the hundredth time, Cerys, he’s not going to do it,” Marayke says, throwing her hands up in the air and jumping from the bed. “I’ve been trying to make you understand that for hours, and I’m honestly growing tired of the bullshit. He’s bound to you, he made a blood oath to you. Add everything you’ve been through together, and there’s no breaking what you two have.”

  “Wait a minute, did you just see that?” I point to vanity table. The candlelight bathes the rustic room in a pleasant glow, dancing over the reflections of Marayke and me in the mirror. Before that, we only had the light from a gas lamp on the bedside table.

  Marayke stares at the candles, blinking as if she doesn’t know what to make of it at first.

  “Yeah, you are a witch. And you’re wearing a bit of the Firestone in your wedding band. That gives you power over fire.”

  “Okay, first of all, I am an energy worker, not a witch.”

  “An energy worker with a powerful bloodline, and a lot of magic flows through your veins. Besides, remember the first time we met? Your familiar was enough to take down Kareim.”

  Nazarean hisses from his pillow on the ground, obviously taking delight in the memory.

  “All right, but the fire isn’t what I meant. Look.” I point to the ceiling, shadows slowly crawling over it.

  “I’ll be damned.” Marayke whips out two curled blades from her waist, ready to fight.

  “No.” I stop her with a hand on her fist that’s curled over the hilt of her blade. “They’re not here to hurt us.”

  “Where in the cursed realms did they come from?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. They came from me.”

  I face her, searching her eyes.

&
nbsp; “Marayke, I never intended to do this before Xerxes and I met. I was perfectly happy as an energy worker, channeling much needed energy into other creatures. But in order to help Xerxes, in order to save the Fire Realm, I needed to be capable of much more than that, and I have been tapping into the magic in my bloodline. Problem is, I’m not sure I can control it.”

  “Well I can’t help you, I’m not a mage.”

  “Can’t you at least help me stabilize it?” I look up to the shadows crawling over the walls and ceiling.

  “I’m not sure. But one thing is clear, it’s your emotions that shot out of you. Speaking of—” Her voice trails off, as if she’s wary to say it. “Xerxes and Zestari.”

  “That wanton piece of hateful ass,” I hiss through my teeth, my voice going unnaturally low, mixing with my normal pitch as if I were two people speaking at the same time, which raises the hairs on the nape of my neck. I can feel magic thickening my skin, and shooting off of me onto the walls.

  “Cursed realms,” Marayke yelps, stepping back, and taking her fighting stance. “You’re gonna need Xerxes to help you with this, Cerys. The emotion you just felt, it was like a gun loading. You just shot it onto the walls. I don’t know how to help you stabilize this.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut as I struggle with myself to accept this. I hate it, but I guess I don’t have a choice. I’ll have to go down into the pub, and try to talk normally to Xerxes after I’ve seen him raising that courtesan’s face and staring deep into her eyes, feeding on her lust. She was hypnotized by his power, which I know turns her on as much as his good looks.

  “Fine.”

  “I’m coming with you. No way I’m staying in the same room with these things without knowing how to kill them.”

  Marayke always has to know how to kill everybody in the room, or almost everybody, wherever she is. It’s the only thing that makes her feel safe. I suppose it’s normal for someone who’s lived a life of war. Marayke the Iron Maiden has earned her reputation for a reason, and her ability to manipulate iron, even in people’s blood, isn’t the only skill she’s famous for.

  Marayke exits the room first, but she stops in her tracks as soon as I have stepped over the threshold.

  “What is it?” I urge her. “Let’s go.”

  “Errr...”

  “What? What’s happening?” I can feel the shadows crawling after me, forcing me to push Marayke and close the door behind me to make sure they stay in the room, and don’t follow us out into the pub.

  She doesn’t reply, and her silence only alarms me. I look over the banister at the spot where Xerxes should be, and he’s not there. Another group is sitting at that table, werewolves getting a bunch of witches drunk. The bigger of them has already gotten a younger witch in the corner, not minding the heat from the fireplace. They’re almost getting it on, right there. It’s late, and everyone is drunk enough that they wouldn’t notice a drunken quickie in the corner.

  Which reminds me of Xerxes and his intentions with Zestari. A claw grips my heart, squeezing the blood from it.

  “He’s with her, isn’t he?”

  “So quick to jump to conclusions,” Marayke reacts, but she doesn’t sound convinced. If anything, she sounds like she’s desperate to stop me from checking. My nostrils flare, anger boiling in my head.

  For hours, Marayke has been trying to help me clam down, but that single interaction Xerxes had with Zestari has cut me so deep that I’m still bleeding. I can’t even hear Marayke’s pleas to stop and think, my ears are buzzing so loudly. I push her out of the way with more force that I thought I had within me, and start up the stairs towards the attic. My skin is burning under the leather catsuit that I’m still wearing.

  My imagination goes wild as I speed towards the second floor, searching McTarvish’s room. I picture the courtesan’s hands sliding down Xerxes’ powerful, golden-skinned body glistening in the firelight, her eyes rolling back at the scent of the shadows that rise from his body. Her offering her neck to his kisses, his dark red mouth touching her skin, her jugular pulsing against his sculptured lips.

  I can vaguely hear Marayke calling out my name as I barge into the inkeeper’s room, hearing a woman moaning. I storm from the small vestibule into the bedroom, and my heart stops.

  I see Zestari’s back, naked and glowing with sweat as she’s riding a man. My man. Xerxes. His hands move under the covers, holding to her waist as she gyrates on top of him.

  “You treacherous bastard,” I call out, causing the courtesan to turn and look over her shoulder. Like in a nightmare, she gives me a self-satisfied grin. She got what she wanted. She got my man in her bed, breaking every promise he ever made to me, turning all his love declarations and all of the bullshit that Marayke has just given me about fated mates to ash.

  I can feel my eyes push out of their sockets from all the tension in my head. The claw that gripped my heart earlier squeezes it so hard it feels like I’m dying, and the only thing that can save me is rage. I scream, a sound that I can’t hear from the buzzing in my ears, but that reverberates through my entire body. I only become aware of the sheer volume when the window and the mirror break, shards flying through the room.

  The courtesan moves off of the man she was riding, who I still hope in my crazed mind that isn’t Xerxes. But when he sits up, all hope leaves my body along with the pain that sends me to my knees. The scream has left me with nothing else to give, and only when Marayke finally dares approach and help me up to my feet do I realize that I’ve thrown crawling shadows over the walls again.

  “Milord, quick,” she urges Xerxes. “The Queen has tapped into the magic streams of Hades and Merlin, and now she can’t control it.”

  Xerxes throws off the covers and stands to his full height, naked and magnificent with his golden warrior body that he should have given me and only me for the rest of time. I want to jump up and scratch him, scream that I sacrificed everything for him, that I would have been able to spend eternity as Samael’s property in Hell for him, and this is the way he rewards me.

  But if what I feel for him as his bonded mate is true love, then true love isn’t the altruistic stuff of biblical stories. I want to hurt both him and the woman he cheated on me with, and I want to hurt them badly, but right now I’m so heart-broken I don’t have the strength. I abandon myself to Marayke’s support as she basically gathers me off the floor. I feel like I’ve been broken into a thousand shards, just like all the glass in this cursed room.

  I guess it’s no wonder that the entire inn is up and alarmed as Marayke brings me downstairs, where McTarvish’s night help hurries to clear a table. She sits me down, and McTarvish soon appears from the attic, too, in his pajamas.

  “What in the cursed realms is going on here,” he demands, and Marayke explains in a few short sentences. The guards and Duke Draven don’t dally to appear, and soon also does Kareim, and finally, Xerxes.

  I watch him with burning eyes as he walks slowly down the stairs, fully dressed in his leather armor, blades of all shapes and purposes strapped to his body. His face is tense and sharp, as if he were holding in an avalanche of reactions. Anger comes to mind first. He could be angry with me for having barged in on him and his courtesan like that, but let him just walk up to me and say it to my face. Come on, bastard just do it.

  Our eyes lock, mine red-rimmed, hot, and filled with tears of betrayal. I lost his heart, and I can’t do anything about it. Or maybe I never actually had him. Maybe he’s unable of being exclusive even with his bonded mate, or maybe it’s just been too long since we’ve been intimate with each other, or maybe I’m just making myself crazy trying to make up explanations and excuses for him.

  “We have Tartarian powers on our trail,” he says, as if I didn’t just walk in on him and Zestari, who’s now smugly making her way down the stairs, too. “They’ve been here. I sensed their origins, and Kareim has confirmed it, too.”

  “Confirmed it?” I say with a bitter grin. My eyes fly over to Kareim, who is just
being told the story of what happened by a guard. Satisfaction plays across his foxy face, half of it maimed, half of it as pretty as an androgyny’s.

  “Kareim used his divination skills.”

  I scoff, jutting out my chin, wanting to wound him. “As if he had any.” I look away, clearing my throat. “Turns out I have managed to do some magic, too, only I don’t know how to control it.” I motion to the first floor just as McTarvish places a mug of hot tea in front of me. “Shadow creatures are crawling all over the walls in there.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Xerxes says, and signals Draven to go with him. I can’t even bring myself to watch as they head to the room, the landing full of other guests that the entire circus tore from their sleep.

  “I’m sure there’s a very good explanation for this,” Marayke says quietly when we get a moment. “There’s no way—”

  “Just stop, please.” My voice is soft, because the pain exhausted me. I place a hand over hers. “I know you mean well, but I also know what I saw. And there’s only one way to interpret it.”

  Xerxes

  DRAVEN CLOSES THE DOOR after us, leaving us alone in Cerys’ room. But instead of looking out for the shadows she talked about, I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists, letting the pain course all through me, letting myself feel it, punishing myself for what I had to do to her.

  “When she finds out the truth, she will understand,” Draven says, placing a hand on my shoulder. But nothing can give me comfort now.

  “It’s not whether she’ll understand or not.”

  “Xerxes, it’s not like you actually betrayed her. She doesn’t know what she actually saw. When this is over, you can tell her—”

  “That won’t undo the pain that she feels now, Draven.” I struggle to cope with the whirling in my chest that threatens to suck my heart away. “What does it matter that I didn’t actually touch Zestari, as long Cerys believes I did? And she’ll have to go on believing that for fuck knows how long. And Zestari, her presence alone will be a constant reminder of what she saw in that room.”