Page 39 of The Horned King

In the next moment, all three of them materialize before me, replying in unison, "Very easy."

Then Olath speaks first, "Miss Aistin and the old king seem to be getting along well."

"Quite well." Ovoor giggles.

With a terrifying smirk, Olath quips, "Poor King Kairon can't hardly stand it."

I sigh, taking all of them in. Individually, they're unnerving. But together, they act as if they all share one all-seeing brain, continuing a train of thought together. It's utterly terrifying, even to me. Ovoor, the eyes of the present, doesn't seem like much. Only seeing things as they happen. Her features are all rather forgettable, small, plain-looking, even, with dull brown eyes and an ageless face.

But the one that I can barely stand to look at is Onala. Every feature is so sharp that one might cut their fingers on her cheekbones or the sharp slant of her nose. Pure white eyes, seeing nothing and everything all at once, her smile the most terrifying of all. Every tooth is pointed, ready to shred anyone who might cross her.

"Ladies, please. Give me five minutes before the taunting begins, won't you?" If I could reach my temples to rub them, I would.

"Poor little king," coos Ovoor.

"Can't have the only thing he wants," cackles Onala.

"The only thing he's wanted for himself in years," cries Olath.

I groan, walking around them to follow behind my Elva and that dead fuck, King Colm.

"Don't do it, little king," Onala warns.

"Ooh, do what? Do what?" Olath and Ovoor ask together.

Onala answers with a laughing sigh, "He wants to kill the other king."

The three wicked sisters fall into a laughing fit, and I want to strangle them. If not for how vital they are to keeping the balance of this world, I would have years ago. And they know it.

Olath smokes into existence in front of me, placing both hands on my shoulders to stop my forward momentum. "Do not. She is more capable than you know."

"I know she can protect herself," I scoff, attempting to shake her grip off.

She doesn't move an inch. "Then let her."

"You don't have a great record of keeping your loved ones safe, little king," Ovoor reminds me, turning my vision red.

"Don't you dare," I warn. "I was little more than a child then."

"And yet," Olath scolds, "you still carry the weight, even now."

Onala sighs. "And will forever."

Their reminders send visions of the past careening through my head. The unending river of blood, the knowledge that I couldn't save her from the impending death, that I could only watch and feel as the life tried to leave her.

Her death will haunt me forever; they're right about that.

"The Suvan Queen will arrive within the hour, little king," Olath tells me, shaking me from my memories. "Until then, we will remain in our rooms. Miss Elva is not quite ready to meet us yet."

"She's going to be quite occupied with the king and the Fae for the foreseeable future." Onala giggles as the three of them vanish, taking the only outlet I might have for my fury with them.

Olath's voice floats to me from wherever they've gone. "By the way, you need to keep a better eye on your stash of rotroot, little king. Someone has been taking things that don't belong to them."

My eye twitches as I stand there, completely frozen from rage, aching to rip someone apart with my bare hands to sate the bloodlust rising within me. A thief, a witch, a servant. Anyone.

But I already know it wouldn't help. The only person whose blood will slake this need is Farhan for daring to touch her. She already knows there will be consequences for this. The taunting look in her eyes practically begged me to retaliate. She thinks she knows how far I'm already willing to go due to this fire she's started beneath my skin. But she has no idea.

By the time she begins to understand, it'll be too late and she'll be surrendering completely to my touch, even if it's against her better judgment.

---