Page 75 of Tortured Royals

In the span of a heartbeat, Ivar’s expression of concern melts away and his lips upturn into a cruel smile.

Gloria’s face pales at his change in attitude, and she turns with the other clan leaders, starting toward the door. Before she can reach it, Ivar’s guards are there, blocking the exit.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

~ Princess Blake ~

“Looks like we didn’t need Scarlett to convince them after all…”I muse to the others.“But she’ll still be good for the interrogation.”

“We agreed to your terms,” Gloria says, keeping her chin high as she turns back to Ivar. “Why do this?”

“It’s nothing personal,” Ivar replies. “But the witches simply aren’t willing to risk keeping you alive.”

“The witches?” Another leader spits. “What has this got to do with their kind? Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

Ivar’s smile is unsettling. “I had tried to convince them to let you all live,” he admits. “But a change in leadership always comes with a price. And since you refuse to eat your dessert I guess it’s time for plan B.” He pulls a mask from his robe, strapping it over his face, and the Fallon Blade soldiers do the same. The moment they have them on, smoke starts filtering in from the vents on the ceiling.

The clan leaders shout, coughing and wheezing, and the Fallon Blade demons attack.

“Blake!”Prince Callan shouts, and a cool wind whips around my face, preventing the smoke from reaching my mouth and nose. I peer over to see my archangel has done the same for my mates.

“We need to help the clan leaders as well,”I tell him.

One of the Fallon Blade soldiers goes for Gloria who’s the closest to me, but my hand shoots out, grabbing his arm and stopping his blade.

“Out of my way, server,” he snarls.

I pretend to think about it before giving him a wicked smile. “Let’s see, hmmm, no.”

The soldier frowns, his top lip curling, but just as he tries to break free, blood sprays and his head slides from his body. He thuds to the floor, and Alaric stands behind him, a bloodied sword in his hand. “He touched you,” he growls.

“Technically, I’m the one who touched him,” I point out.

“It still counts, princess,” Dante drawls from somewhere close to me.

“Princess?” Gloria says, still wheezing as she stares at me strangely.

I wink at her. “The one and only.”

Prince Callan clears the air, and though the clan leaders are still coughing, they start fighting back.

“All right, let’s get this done,”I tell my mates, and I let my magic rip through my disguise. Power races through my body, flooding my system, and my wings tear through the fabric on my back. My golden tattoos burn bright against my skin, and I breathe in deep, feeling like myself again. Prince Callan is already back in his true form, but Mason follows my lead, accessing his power though he doesn’t shift. Alaric and Nate stayin their disguises, no doubt realizing the dining room is much too small to accommodate them.

“Y-your highness,” Gloria stammers, her eyes filled with horror as she steps away from me, staring at the tattoos on my arms. Her gaze flicks to my mates before going back to me, and she slams to one knee, placing her fist to her chest. “I meant none of what I said, princess. You have my allegiance. Always.”

Around the room, the clan leaders gasp when they see me, and even Ivar’s demons are stunned. The clan leaders kneel, showing their respect. It’s sickening when they were just plotting my downfall, but I’ve long since learned that I don’t need them to love me. For now, fear would have to do, and it’s one thing to agree with Ivar’s plans when they thought I was in another realm, but a different thing entirely when I’m standing before them.

The Fallon Blade soldiers hesitate, confusion written on their faces, but I have no sympathy for them. They might have been following Ivar’s lead, but they’ve still been working with the witches, plotting my father’s assassination and the downfall of the realm.

Never show mercy. Rule number two of being a demon royal.“Kill the soldiers,” I command my mates. Taking out my own blades, the five of us work as one, and it’s not long before Ivar’s soldiers are all down.

“No!” Ivar snarls, his shock soon replaced with simmering hatred as he stares at me. Still holding his knives, he backs away, but Prince Callan sends out a burst of air, slamming the clan leader against the wall. His knives are knocked from his hands, and Alaric advances, pressing his forearm against Ivar’s throat. Prince Callan keeps his power there, but Alaric stays where he is, his top lip curled as he glares at the demon.

Ivar doesn’t struggle. He just starts frantically whispering to himself.

The clan leaders stay where they are, but they watch me fearfully. I walk over to where Scyro’s horns are still on the table, and I pick one up, throwing it to one of the clan leaders. He fumbles for it, and his face pales as he struggles to catch it, and it falls with a clatter to the floor.

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