Page 5 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

“Good dawn.” Nismera tipped her head as a guard pulled out her seat for her. With a toss of her sash on her shoulder, she sat. Once she was seated, Isaiah and I took ours, one on her left, the other on her right, and the room soon followed.

“Good dawn,” the others repeated as she clapped her hands on the table.

“These are barely a fraction of the relics and scrolls we took from the remains of Rashearim,” Jiraiya said.

Jiraiya was the councilman who, like the others, tricked Samkiel into thinking they worked for him, but Nismera had ruled The Order since The Gods War. She had put her people in place, securing their seats one by one without being caught until only her sept held power. She was a master strategist who had taught me well.

Jiraiya shifted the records toward her, and she glanced them over. Sweat built at his brow, and I could smell fear on every being around the table. Smart of them.

“Why does he keep glancing at the blonde one?” Isaiah asked, nodding toward Jiraiya.

My eyes followed, and I watched. He did glance toward Imogen even as he spoke to Nismera.

I shrugged. “I believe they fucked when she had her mind.”

Isaiah made a noise of disgust.

Imogen was the only member of The Hand left here. Nismera had the others shipped off and sold to the highest bidder for battles or gods-knew-what. Imogen stood stiffly near one of the orc generals, staring straight ahead. Nivene was his name. Isaiah had said he was one of Nismera’s new favorites, but I couldn’t care less. Even with half the table between us, his scent confirmed he was just another brute who had worked and slain his way to the top.

Imogen stared off into space, her dull blue eyes not moving even when the council members raised their voices. She wore the same dragonbane armor as all of Nismera’s higher-ranking soldiers did. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture straight, and her long twisted braid draped over her shoulder.

I didn’t need to see Imogen’s fingers to know they were bare. Nismera had those silver rings melted down the second she had a chance. She hated the color and what it reminded us all of. Instead, she now bore two forsaken swords strapped to her back. I was surprised she had let her keep even that, but I knew my words had imprisoned her brain. She was no longer capable of independent thought or free will.

Nismera stood and moved around the table to lean over a scroll, the general at her side explaining what they had learned and brought back from Onuna.

“He’s so puny.” Isaiah sighed next to me. “It couldn’t have been pleasurable.”

I glanced at Isaiah. He studied Jiraiya with a predator’s intent before glancing at Imogen again.

“Why do you care?”

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged.

I rolled my shoulders and leaned forward, clasping my hands on the tabletop. “Your curiosity will enrage Veruka.”

“Ah, so Mera told you about that.” Isaiah merely shrugged. “She’s just fun. Plus, the things she does when you pull her tail are very satisfying.”

My gaze bored daggers into him. “She’s one of the High Guards. I told you not to shit where you eat.”

“Says the one who turned and fucked Samkiel’s mate.”

My nostrils flared, which only garnered a grin from him. If I could punch him without pissing off Nismera, I would.

Elianna stood and glanced down the table at us before clearing her throat and opening the worn journal she had carried for ages. All eyes turned toward her, everyone listening intently.

“Speaking of blonde ones, where is your celestial?” Isaiah asked, not giving a shit what Elianna had to say.

“Cameron is in the low levels still.” I folded my arms as I leaned back, at least attempting to pay attention.

“The pit fights?” Isaiah asked.

I nodded. “He needs to work out his new powers, and he’s not fucking them out so that leaves fighting and feeding.”

Isaiah scoffed. “Thrash.”

We called it thrash because, at some stages, all you did was thrash from side to side as your body overheated. Those able to be turned to Ig’Morruthens experienced it. Dianna had. The first few weeks, I had her chained as I had Cameron when he arrived. The first blood rage was always the strongest as their bodies carved out their insides, making room for the new ones. Power surged through them, replacing what they once were. If they survived and didn’t turn into a beast, they were as we were. But the thrash could take weeks to resolve, sometimes months. The blood lust makes them damn near animalistic. They could level a village if left unattended. Uncontrollable urges were so strong they could rip their victims to ribbons. I had seen Dianna leave nothing but shards of tissue in her wake when she first changed, another reason among many for her bloodthirsty name.

“Nismera will want you to make more, you know?”

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