Page 32 of Phoenix Falling
The poison had crept through the king’s veins and into his muscles. Now, at the moment of his judgment, his tongue failed him. A gurgle of protest sounded in his throat, but no words escaped his slack mouth. Nothing he could say would save him. Even his mind had frozen, telepathy beyond him while I lifted his lifeless hands, placing his fingers carefully along the sharp blade. Blood dripped onto the steel.
There was no cry for help in the moment of his death. His eyes met mine, and what I saw there was resignation. He’d already given up like the coward he was.
Dropping his hands, I grasped the hilt and pierced his skin. Sliced through cartilage, through muscle. When the hardness of bone resisted the sword’s forward movement, I smiled in anticipation.
“May you spend eternity in hell, Solomon.”
I shoved forward. As his spinal cord split, a bright flash of light filled the room. Solomon’s body disintegrated in an instant, leaving nothing but ash behind to scatter the bedclothes that had once held a king.
ChapterFourteen
SUN
Idreamed of Rissa, her body against mine, her mouth warm and wet around my invasion. A moan filled the air—hers or mine, I couldn’t tell. Moving restlessly against her, I savored the feel of her kiss, her breasts, her belly against my skin. Her hot core welcomed me. I could never be close enough to her, not even when I was inside her. My soul craved hers. My animal roared with the need to take her, to become one in spirit as well as in body. I reached for her, desperate, and just as our souls clicked together like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly—
“Sun!”
A hard hand gripped my shoulder and shook me awake. I growled, shooting up to confront—
“Grim?”
My friend stood over me, one hand on my shoulder, the other up to ward off any attack he might earn. Good thing, too, because my fist was on a trajectory to make contact when I fully realized what was occurring and pulled back. “Shit!”
“Now you’re awake.” He stepped back, allowing me space to come fully aware, shaking off the haze of sleep.
I was breathing heavily, the abrupt shift from dream to reality throwing me off-kilter. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I need you awake, Sun.”
His tone warned me that whatever had brought him to my suite while I slept, it was bad. “Give me five,” I croaked.
He nodded and retreated to the living area. I made a quick trip to the bathroom, then dressed before joining him. When I walked into the living area, however, it wasn’t only Grim that awaited me. Basile stood beside him, James at the opposite shoulder. All three males’ faces were stark, their expressions unreadable.
I stopped just inside the door, taking a moment to assess them. Finally I asked, “What’s going on?” Had there been an attack?
Grim cleared his throat. It might be the only moment I’d ever known him to hesitate. “The king is dead.”
Shock shot through me, and I wavered on my feet. “What?”
“It is true, Sun,” Basile said. His body was rigid, his tension palpable. “His bed was discovered this evening, containing only his ashes. And his sword.”
And his sword.The words rang in my ears, echoing in a chamber of denial.
Without a word I crossed to the sofa on shaky legs and gingerly took a seat, afraid the furniture beneath me might disappear much as the foundation of my life had. I had considered many things as I’d prepared to speak with Grim, but this hadn’t even been a thought. Now it was reality. I dropped my head into my hands. “Gone?”
My warriors did not speak. Perhaps they understood the complex swirl of emotions that suddenly rose within me. Grim could certainly read it, though hopefully not all of it. He wouldn’t understand.
Or maybe he would. The male could read minds, after all. Perhaps he’d read mine long ago, mined the secrets of kings and princes and phoenixes. Secrets the royal family had kept hidden as long as we had been royal. Secrets like the phoenix that couldn’t die, rising from the ashes of death by sheer force of will.
Will my father had chosen not to exercise.
Grief ached within me at the knowledge. After all, Solomon was my father before all else. He had sired me, and though he had never been loving, he had alwaysbeen.But unlike when I’d lost my mother so long ago, grief was not my only emotion. No, mingled inside the grief was regret that our relationship had never been what I’d wanted it to be. Solomon had not been created to be a father; he’d been created to be king, and nothing else could interfere with that, even love.
As if the situation wasn’t complicated enough, I also felt relief. Maybe I was more like my father than I wanted to admit, because his passing meant I no longer had to fight him for the rule of our people.
Maybe that had been his final gift to me.
I felt a smothering sense of weight as the mantle of kingship settled on my shoulders. Now there was no one to fall back on. There was no contingency. The ultimate responsibility was mine and mine alone. Though I’d anticipated it, prepared for it, sometimes longed for it during my long life, the moment was now upon me.
