Page 5 of A Kingdom of Death & Darkness
“You requested my time?” he asks disdainfully as he stares down on a woman who sweeps low into a curtsey. Her gown is a telling color of pure white, and I find myself looking awayfrom her despite the rising apprehension that’s tearing through my chest.
“My King, I only wished to give you a gift on our sweet boy’s, Christian’s day of life, to celebrate his existence made possible by you. Our daughter, Delilah, made it.”
Boris’ steely gaze flicks to me, and it’s a hardened stare that holds bitterness. I freeze from the inside out and don’t dare make a single move. I too am made of stone. The fear inside of me is something I’ve known firsthand. It’s a fear of not knowing if I’ll be praised or if I’ll be punished.
It’s then I realize these are Christian’s memories, not mine. I’m only a shadowed witness, which suddenly makes the other emotions and thoughts flicking through my mind make sense.
“You know my time is valuable, Avaina.” The line of his lips is nearly nonexistent.
“Of course.” She hurriedly steps aside, her head still bowed as she lifts a hand toward the far back door. The door splits at the center, opening with a bright light as two men usher in a large, wheeled platform. The wheels churn with a weight that seems unfitting for the delicate item that rests atop. Thousands of vines twist and curve, and lotus flowers bloom among the thorns as they crawl up and form the most intricate throne I’ve ever seen.
A tiny gasp falls from my lips when a vine scurries out to feel along the golden floor as it’s brought in. The creaking wheels stop at the center of the room. The vine pulls back into the safety of the throne, the leaves curling in like apprehensive fingers.
The idea of fae magic flits through my mind with excitement as well as fearfulness. My sister shows that side of herself too freely. Delilah should be more careful with her fae magic.
“I told you not to bring me anything from your kind, Avaina...” A stern voice drawls, sinking into the tangling pit ofmy stomach and wiping away any excitement I had fleetingly known.
“My King, You’re to rule both lands, are you not?” The witty woman peers up at him hesitantly. “You should show your ownership with this throne.”
I peek up at his hard gaze.
And surprisingly, he’s considering her and her coy words.
A smirk tilts my lips. Because my mother always is one to know how to play someone with their own ego, ambitions, wants, and desires.
Even someone as deadly as my father.
A throbbing pain pulsing through my skull is what wakes me. That and his inability to not hear himself speak for even five minutes.
“You can go. I’ll look after her from here.”
I peek one eye open and find the gloriously annoying Fae King standing with his back to me. His bronzed shoulders are broad and lined with hard muscle. Strange spikes and ink accentuate his spine, leaving hinting symbols just beneath his long black hair. Intricate braids and woven bone decorate his thick locks like Viking art.
How on earth am I related to this fantasy man?
“Are you hoping I’ll leave, or are you just enjoying the view?”
My lips curl back at that.Enjoying the view. Gross.
“Where’s Seven?” I ask instead.
“Infirmary. Resting. He’ll be fine.”
I swallow hard at that, and I want to ask if I can see him, but at the same time, I don’t want to ask anything of this man. I’ll find Seven myself.
An enormous window sprawls over the wall across from the bed I lie in. Pale morning sunlight hints at the lush greenery below. Books with worn leather and faded titles line each side of the large window. The deep jade-green bedroom overlooks a rocky land with sparkling water streaming between the dips and divots of the shadowy earth. It’s beautiful.
The total opposite of the Blood Kingdom I came from.
“We can go out if you’d like. I can show you our land.” His big arms cross over his bare chest, and he leans casually into the doorframe like he’s getting far too comfortable around me.
I shift beneath the soft blankets and try my best to seem more confident than I feel in this man’s home.
“Listen, I don’t know how exactly we’re related. You’re definitely not my father and–,” I sneer at him, and he cuts me off immediately with his arrogant toxicity.
“Please, by all means, call me Daddy if you like.”
A literal gag crawls up my throat with burning vengeance at that suggestion. My eyes narrow on him as rage claws through my chest.
