Page 14 of Our Vicious Oaths
You’ll get a fight to the death, then, she promised the northern king. She couldn’t initiate that fight now. He’d proven to be too skilled and experienced a warrior, with a brute strength that outmatched hers, to go at him head-on. A stealthier approach would be required—one where she bided her time and learned more about the northern king, his court, and, most important, his weaknesses.
She was pretty sure he must have some, though she’d yet to see what they were besides his massive ego.
Plus, she was wise enough to see the value in allowing Malachizrien the chance to wipe Rishaud from existence and take care of that second problem for her. But she would leave these lands with her life intact, return home, and rebuild the Aether Court—the cornerstone of her kingdom’s strength and prosperity.She silently vowed it to herself as she stood in enemy territory beside the Apollyon king and his retinue, who radiated nearly the same menacing energy as their liege.
“Why not simply teleport inside the palace?” she then asked Malachizrien. She suspected it had something to do with security, so this was her first foray into gleaning any sort of important information. At present, their party stood among verdant grasslands that were a considerable distance away from theexpansive palace bearing myriad domed towers and turrets. The sprawling structure gleamed with silver and the shiny, polished black of the onyx deposits found only on the Apollyon side of the Yunna Mountains.
“Because the entire place—and a large swath of the immediate land around it—is warded against the use of such transport by individuals to whom I haven’t specifically keyed the wards to allow passage. With you in tow, this is as close as we can get …” He answered her with an arrogant lilt to his voice that told her he knew exactly why she’d asked and didn’t care at all that she now knew. “And the wards cover similar travel via runes.” He smirked.
She’d learned two things, then. First: the pertinent details about teleporting here.
Second: before she departed Malachizrien’s territory, perhaps right before one of her aether bombs incinerated his heart, she was going to wipe that smirk off his face.
KADEESHA HAD ASSUMEDmany things about the dreadful Apollyon Court and its liege, but she’d never imagined the king’s throne room would be covered in delicate flowers. Dozens of them. Moonglories, a flower that only grew among the highest peaks of the Yunnas, snaked the length of the ceiling and walls. The night-black blooms were twined together with ivy vines, creating an alluring contrast between dark and light hues. If she weren’t inside the enemy’s court, she might even appreciate the choice of decor. She might even muse out loud that she was considering stealing the aesthetics. But sheand Malachizrien were not friends. They weren’t even true allies, or one kingdom’s royal politicking with another. No, she was standing in this room under coercion and as a pawn that the Apollyon bastard sought to wield.
Setting the baffling contrast between the dainty flowers and the savage male in front of her aside, she narrowed her eyes at the northern king. He’d left her standing at the foot of the dais that he now sat atop, sprawled across a massive throne that glittered like it was carved out of polished onyx. Its legs were fashioned to give the impression of sturdy tree limbs with spikes jutting out along the length of them, and its back spread wider than Malachizrien’s broad shoulders, with a pair of swords shooting out of it on either side. On each side of Malachizrien sat another throne. They were onyx, too, and just as enormous, but without the crossed swords behind them. An arresting woman in a cerulean gown, whom Kadeesha had already sized up to be as deadly as she was alluring, occupied the throne on Malachizrien’s left. The one on his right was claimed by a male who was only a hairsbreadth shorter than him but with a narrower build. The male’s slighter stature didn’t make him any less imposing, though.
A warning sang through her mind, a whip reminding her that the three people she stood before were the fearsome king of the Apollyon Court himself and what remained of his royal bloodline. Kadeesha immediately pegged the young man to Malachizrien’s right to be his cousin Trystin. He was the grand duke and heir to the Apollyon Court until its king had children. But that wasn’t why was he was infamous. No, Trystin bore his own horror stories of the carnage he could wreak with rune work. The disguises Malachizrien and his Cadre had worn were proof enough of that.
Then there was the matter of the regal woman to Malachizrien’s left, who could be no other than his aunt, Nychelle, the former queen regent and now queen mother, who rumors said presented a poised and prim front but could be more vicious than her nephew’s reputation if pushed.
If Kadeesha were a different individual, she might’ve trembled before the three royals. But she was dangerous too, and an heir to a throne in her own right, so they’d do well to remember it. And if they forgot it, or underestimated her, that’d be to their detriment—and her advantage.
Kadeesha smirked up at the royals, making it clear what she thought about who they were and the court they helmed. “Are we going to stand around and simply stare at each other all day, or are one of you going to finally tell me why I’ve been dragged before all three of you? Am I supposed to cower?” she snapped.
Nychelle’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. “You are standing in this throne room of your own volition,whole, and you’re unchained, dear. Believe me, if I wanted your fear, neither of those things would be true.” Despite Kadeesha’s earlier statement, ice skittered down her neck at Nychelle’s cool tone.
Malachizrien’s gaze raked her and he replied to Kadeesha’s smirk with a smug look of his own, as if he detected her sudden internal alarm. “Cower? Nah. But I’ll take you on your knees,Hyperion princess.”
Malachizrien’s piercing brown stare didn’t stray from her when he imparted this, his timbre drenched with all the authority of a king, and in a cadence that was purely wicked. Another internal shiver rolled over her; this one had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way his clear innuendo dredged up memories of Oleander House. But she quickly doused such a reaction. Because while this man might clearlywant to bed her again—badly, from the heat she saw in his eyes—he also didn’t bother to disguise the undiluted hatred he had for her kind when he spat that title at her. She could practically see the rage toward southern faefolk wafting off him. For a second, her head swam at its intensity. Oh, the prick had really disguised it well back at Oleander House. Either that or, more likely, he was the same as most other males and compartmentalized things extremely well when ass was on the table. Kadeesha scowled, that feeling only tempered by imagining hurling an aether bomb into Malachizrien’s sickeningly pretty face.
She raised her chin. “I am of the Aether Kingdom and so I am anAether archprincess, if you insist on using a formal title.”
Malachizrien sneered. “Aether territoryisof the Hyperion Kingdom. It is one of the vassal dominions, is it not? So that distinction amounts to semantics.” A merciless grin cut across the harshly beautiful planes of his face. “And more importantly, you are the betrothed of the Hyperion king, which links youintimately and irrevocablyto the Hyperion Court.”
She wouldn’t dare let that dagger embed in her chest and carve a chunk out of her heart as Malachizrien had surely meant for the reminder to do. She’d detested her betrothed before for purely personal reasons. Now, it went beyond that. She loathed Rishaud with every fragment of her being, and he was a dead man walking after butchering her people. And her father. Malachizrien clearly knew that, too. So Kadeesha only stared back at the northern king unruffled. “My initial question hasn’t been answered. Get on with why we are here. Lay out, in greater detail than you did back at the temple, what trap you seek to set for Rishaud and the role I’ll play.”
Malachizrien arched a brow. “It’s humorous you think to give me orders. We’llget on with itwhen I am ready to—”
He jerked to the left when an aether bomb flew past his head. It narrowly missed melting the skin off his face. The fact that she’d missed at all was a vivid reminder of the terrifying swiftness she’d seen the northern king move with when he fought Rishaud. Her aim had been dead-on, and she hadn’t given away any indication of the attack. She knew she’d telegraphed nothing. Yet, her aether fire only grazed the tip of his ear. Still, his vicious snarl gave Kadeesha immense satisfaction.
She brushed invisible wrinkles out of the light gold gown she was meant to be married in. “I agreed to come here because you forced my assent under duress,” she reminded Malachizrien. “But make no mistake, I am not a captive, nor some dog to be whipped until broken into docile compliance. So be careful,Apollyon king, with the insults you utter and the games you pla—”
Malachizrien was in her face—and then they were still walking, his presence forcing her to take several steps backward. One second he’d been atop his throne, the next second he was invading her space, forcing her body to move where he wanted it to go with his sheer size.
Her back hit the wall, and his huge callused hand gripped her throat. He didn’t choke the life out of her, but he did exert enough pressure to make a point. His darkened gaze damn near vaporized her as he towered over her.
This son of a bitch really believed he could intimidate her? No. His Royal Assholeness truly didn’t know who she was.So she smiled, and it was one that promised she’d rip out his throat with her teeth, challenging him to come within striking range.
Malachizrien chuckled. It was a deep, arrogant sound that suffused the room. “I’d love to see you try,” he murmured.
“How eloquent,” she gritted out between labored breathing.“Good to know you’re all muscle and no actual smarts.” She smiled wider at the affront that flashed in his stare. She filed the knowledge away that the Apollyon king didn’t like having his intelligence questioned and made a mental note to do it often while she was at court. She’d agreed to aid him and be the bait he needed to finish off Rishaud, but she’d never agreed to be well-behaved or meek bait. Malachizrien had, after all, used her and set her up in a way that gothercourt slaughtered. For that, she’d be returning the favor any and every way she could think of.
The pressure around her throat increased, the veins in Malachizrien’s forearm bulging beneath his dark skin. “Individuals within my own court have died for less,” he informed her.
“And yet … you … need … me,” she managed to spit out. “So … you … won’t … really … kill me … for now.”
Another chuckle followed, yet the pressure didn’t ease. “Needis a strong word. It’s ideal to use you to get at Rishaud, but I am a resourceful,exceedingly smartman. I can sketch out an alternative if need be, Princess. The prophecy dies if you do, remember.”
