Page 98 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

I know better than to ask, and yet my curiosity overwhelms me. “Such as?”

He takes his time answering, ripping off a chunk of roasted duck with his teeth. Juice dribbles down his chin.

Elijah would have swiftly wiped that off with a napkin. Though, he would never eat like an animal.

Swallowing the mouthful, Malachi says, “You do not begin your rule with fear. You begin with compassion and benevolence. You lull them with charm.”

“So, when you beheaded that lord in the throne room, was that benevolence or charm?” I couldn’t care less about that sniveling fool—I’m sure he deserved it. “And what about the guard outside upon our arrival? And your threat to kill the exiled king?”

“Simple lessons. I delivered them with a smile, did I not? And I did not threaten to kill Zander, I promised to do so, and I gave him options.” Finally, he dabs at the grease. “Only use fear when they think you are weak.”

“And what of these Saur’goths, then?”

“They are proof of my strength.”

He has an answer for everything, warped or not.

Malachi’s intent gaze is on a youthful blond servant as she passes with a tray of roasted vegetables. “Things have changed much since I ruled here last. The slaves wore far less then.”

“Why would it matter what she wears?” I snap before I can rein in my jealousy. I know that look—I have seen it countless times, in my crumbling sanctum, when I was forced to submit my flesh for Malachi’s pleasure. But it has never been through my husband’s eyes. Elijah would never admire another female in such a way, not since he met me.

“Because I wish to appreciate that which I have had a hand in creating.” Anger etches into Malachi’s features. “Does my loyal servant feel I should not be permitted to do so?”

Fear cords my muscles. The one time I dared question the Fate of Fire’s intentions so bluntly, his punishment was swift and brutal, his blazing hand against sensitive flesh delivering an agony I did not think I would recover from.

I never dared question him after that.

I dip my head and remind myself yet again—this is not my Elijah. “You are permitted to everything you have had a hand in creating, Your Highness.”

A noblewoman with a curtain of shiny black hair bows before our table then. “Your Highness, I am Lady Saoirse. I wish to thank you for bestowing upon me the gift of governing Kettling.”

Ah, yes. The city whose lord Malachi beheaded. And here is his daughter, grinning for her father’s executioner.

“Lady Saoirse.” Malachi regards her. “I am certain that whatever the previous ruler conspired to accomplish, you had no involvement in.”

“Certainly not.” Her hair swings with her vehement headshake. “I was betrothed to King Atticus and intended to be queen. For what reason my”—she falters—“the Lord Adley chose to plot is beyond me.”

I clear my throat. It took me all of half an hour to learn the deep-rooted hatred between Cirilea and Kettling, and that all the accusations against those thrown into the tower were likely true.

Her eyes flitter to me for a second before plowing on. “If I might be so bold as to ask about the eastern armies that King Atticus sent to the rift. The Kierish soldiers have invaded my lands, and they are still there.”

“You wish me to send them back to the east.”

“If it is feasible. I worry for the safety of my people. I received troubling news today of a large enemy encampment claiming the village of Baymeadow.”

“From what I’ve heard, the encampment has as many Islorian soldiers as it does soldiers from this enemy realm.” I recall addressing a letter to Kier’s king. I don’t imagine he appreciated Malachi’s closing line.

“They are traitors to Islor and a threat to you, Your Highness.”

Malachi twists his lips in thought. “Have no fear, Lady Saoirse. My Saur’goth warriors will decimate them soon enough.”

“Of that, I am sure, Your Highness.” Lady Saoirse dips her head again.

Between the beasts crawling out of the Nulling and his warriors, there will be no one left to rule over soon enough, but I bite my tongue.

“But I appreciate your concern for my kingdom.” He leans forward on his elbows. “You are even more exquisite up close.”

The fool beams. “You honor me greatly, Your Highness.”

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