Page 99 of Prince of Demons
But he never reached the arena floor.
With a sound like the sky tearing open, the ceiling above them shattered. Stone and dust exploded inward, the air ripped apart by a force too sudden to prepare for. A heavy thunk followed, and a crack split stone floor, racing from the center of the arena in two directions, setting the pedestal wobbling.
Georgia cried out, stumbling to keep her balance. The King’s hold on her chain yanked her back with a brutal tug as he raised a wall of dark magic around the platform, shielding them from the rain of debris.
Choking on an agonized sob, she squinted through the smoke and dust to the arena below.
Something moved in the haze—something black and burning and terrible, and…
No. No, it couldn’t possibly be?—
Fear gave way to mind-numbing shock as the smoke cleared and the large outline of a man turned crisp and clear and undeniable.
Kesh.
He crouched amid the rubble where he’d dropped through the ceiling, his body sheathed in pulsing shadow, power seething off him in waves. Eyes burning with a fury too vast for words.
Every demon in the room went still, but he paid them no mind.
Straightening slowly, his gaze found Georgia’s. His lip curled in a snarl at the sight of her shackles. The humiliating chain. The deep sound rumbled through the broken coliseum, rich and deep and preternatural.
“You have one second to release what’s mine, King of Nothing. One. Before I pull this palace down on your skull and erase your city from existence.”
49
Kesh
The European king didn’t flinch.
He stood tall on the marble platform, one hand still loosely gripping the gold chain dangling from between Georgia’s legs. Kesh didn’t let his eyes follow to where it was tethered. Rage pounded in his temples and pressed at his skin, his bones, his teeth at the sight of her naked and trembling.
“What a dramatic entrance,” the King said, voice smooth as glass. His eyes gleamed with nothing but dark amusement as he took in Kesh’s dust-covered figure, standing amidst pieces of the broken ceiling. “But alas, need I remind you, you stand before me defeated, youngling? As you well know, the Breeder was surrendered in exchange for my mercy. Don’t come here now, cloaked in borrowed fury, and pretend that wasn’t the deal you struck.”
Kesh narrowed his eyes at the lying king, so haughty on his platform, clearly entirely confident in his belief that Kesh posed no threat. That he didn’t possess the strength to take back what had been stolen. His guards and the lords in the room shifted, restless with the intrusion, but none of them moved. None of them interrupted. They thought the king’s lack of concern signaled they were safe.
They were mistaken.
Kesh didn’t look at the king. He looked past him to the tiers of stone seating above. The demon lords who now sat silent, watching. Waiting. Weighing power.
His voice, when it came, was low. Steady. Sharp enough to cut flesh.
“He’s lying.”
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
“Those of you who’ve met us on the battlefield—those of you who’ve bled beneath our blades—you know the truth. We are not losing.” His gaze swept the crowd. “We are winning.”
He took a step forward, smoke curling off his shoulders. “I would never surrender my female. This Breeder is mine. Aragalan stole her from my court, just as his brother tried to steal the last Pure. This—” He motioned toward the platform, toward the chain, the shackles, Georgia’s trembling frame. “This is not a show of strength. It’s a farce.”
Silence.
“You think he intended to let any of you win her? That this auction is anything beyond theater?” He scanned the rows of watching lords. “Stay out of my way, and you will keep your territory. Your title. Your bloodline.”
His magic pulsed, slow and dark.
“Stand against me—and you’ll die with the false king and his spawn.”
Kesh turned back to the platform, his eyes flicking to Georgia before he could stop himself.
