Page 5 of The King has Fallen

Please, God, let him believe the legends. Please, let him believe we speak telepathically. Please can he—

The King snorted air from his nose and leaned back, though he still kept his grip on my throat, his face twisted with hate and disgust.

The feeling is mutual, Sire.

“Start talking,” he muttered a moment later, ignoring the looks cutting between the men around us who’d heard the entire exchange.

“Certainly. What would you like me to talk about? The way the light scatters off the hair on your ass while you’re pumping? Or—”

“Enough, Fetch!”he bellowed so harshly, spit flicked to my face and I blinked. He leaned back down, leveling a finger at my nose. “One more barb at me and I will drop you where you stand,then desecrate your body until you are nothing but a bloody pulp. You do not open that mouth in my presence unless it is to inform me about my enemies, or receive myblessing.Do you understand?”

“Sire, she knows many things, but the Fetch have no scruples. I should have killed her the moment I saw her. Forgive me. Let me do so now, and—”

The King shot Melek a quelling look and that handsome jaw closed so quickly his teeth clicked.

“She is a tool, a gift provided by God to bless me as His son. She will remain until I choose to snap her neck. And since you were the one who caught her, you will be responsible for her. If she gets loose with the things she knows, I will hold you responsible, Melek. You understand?”

Every man in the room witnessing that cocksure threat went utterly still.

Melek was frozen. “But…Sire,she’s aFetch—”

“Do not toy with me. Our progress has been slowed for weeks. These…creaturesare holding us at bay. Do not think I haven’t noticed.”

I gaped at the King.

The legendary fighter and now General in Command for the Fallen King, Melek had single-handedly led the Nephilim’s troops from the eastern ranges of the Raven Peaks behind which the Nephilim had always hidden their society, sweeping unexpectedly across the continent, conquering every tribe and people in their path.

Months earlier, they had suddenly taken Meyrath—the human nation in which I gathered most of their female slaves were born—and were already crossing into Kyrion Vale and taking down the Centaurs before the rest of the world even knew they’d left their own lands.

The carnage was swift, and undeniable. And led by the male know bowing before the King.

And Melektrulyled. Unlike his King, who we now knew remained hidden in his tents many miles from the front, the General didn’t shield his own life behind the bodies of his troops.

No, the man roared onto the battlefield, steering his brothers to victory.

And so far, they’d responded with fervor.

But now,threeof their enemies had allied and joined forces and were holding the linetogether.

Yet, still, Melek and his troops didn’t lose ground.

Any other King would have beenecstaticto make it this far unhindered. But this man blamed his General for holding fast in a battle againstfive times his numbers?

If only I was free to speak telepathically to Melek. I would have told him to kill this man and take his throne. That the ranks knowingly—and willingly—followed their General, Melek, not this fool.

I could tell him that without lying. And as a fighter myself, I understood why.

Strength followed strength.

Intelligence followed cunning.

And character followed honor.

Melek possessed all three. This pissant King possessednone.

But I couldn’t tell either of them that. Not yet.

I would be honest with this stupid King about his enemies—in fact, I wouldhelpMelek defeat those assholes. Far better for the Nephilim to eradicate them for us, than having to fight them ourselves.

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