Page 88 of Cosmic Power

Void saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain Do—”

Luther narrowed his eyes, a wave of darkness emanating from him and the shifter snapped his mouth shut.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Void amended, nodding once. He rushed forward and opened the door slightly, peeking his head through. “Coast is clear.”

They made their way out of the room, footsteps light and even, heading down a long corridor towards a set of stairs. Luther’s grip remained tight on her wrist as he took charge, sword at the ready.

Zamorra’s eyes widened when they reached the bottom of the stairs. She took in all the beautiful treasure and the sparkling, colourful gems sitting on the countertops. Her jaw dropped. Her fingers itched to get a hold of all those fancy valuables.

When Luther ushered her past it all at a quick pace without so much as a glance in their direction, she cried out in distress.

“Wa-wait we’re not just gonna blow past all this are we? I mean, this is—”

“Not more important than your life,” Luther snarled, forcibly yanking her along.

She would have debated that issue if she’d had the time. But Luther was charging through the space like a raging bull, his eyes darting in every direction, looking for the slightest hint of danger.

Zamorra wondered where the Gold King was. She couldn’t deny the fact that a shiver of fear ran through her body at the prospect of running into him. He was one scary motherfucker, and she was terrified about what he could do to Luther or her uncle.

When they came to a stop in front of a gold-plated, floor-to-ceiling double door, Luther turned and stared at her with more seriousness than she’d ever seen from him before.

“Alright, listen. This is very important. Until we’re clear of this place, you need to act like a prisoner. That means no acting out, no stupid stunts and most importantly, no talking. None of that sassy attitude. We can’t give the fae any reason to look twice at us as we make our way out.”

Zamorra nodded. She fully understood the gravity of the situation they were in. She could keep her mouth shut if it meant never having to go back to that parlour/torture room again. “I understand.”

Luther looked at Void next, opening his mouth to speak.

“I know, I know,” the shifter said, raising a hand in the air. “Keep my trap shut or you’ll kill me.”

Zamorra’s eyes snapped to her uncle. “He’ll what?” Her head whipped back to Luther. “You’ll what?”

“Kill him,” Luther answered seriously. He moved his grip from her wrist to her arm and opened the door.

She kept pace with Luther as they marched down a long deserted hall and down five flights of stairs. When they came across a bridge that connected to another castle, she gaped, her eyes glued to the beautiful view out of the arched windows.

Damn. This place is really something special.

They headed down another four flights of stairs before they entered a wide open space filled with fae and other supernatural beings. Zamorra kept her head down, eyes glued to the floor. She didn’t want to risk doing or saying anything that would make others suspect they were in the middle of a jailbreak right now. She just followed Luther’s lead, letting him drag her from room to room until the heat from the two beaming suns hit the back of her neck.

She breathed a sigh of relief the second they left the oppressive atmosphere of the castle, though she should have known it wouldn’t last long.

Luther stiffened, his entire body going rigid. Zamorra chanced a peak upwards and cursed.

Faxon stood in front of them, feet shoulder width apart and hand resting comfortably on the sword at his waist. He cocked his head, his purple eyes running over them slowly, methodically. “What’s going on here? Why is this prisoner out of her restraints?”

“The King asked me to bring her to him,” Luther replied fluidly, not an ounce of hesitation.

Zamorra couldn’t help but admire his shit-talking skills. The dude could lie.

Faxon arched a brow. “Oh really? That’s strange, because I was just with the King, and he asked for no such thing.” There was a beat of silence and then Faxon slowly withdrew his sword, a deadly expression taking over his face. “So, I’ll ask again. Why is this prisoner out of her restraints?”

Luther pushed Zamorra behind him, using his body as a shield. “I told you, the King—”

“And I told you, the King made no such request. Guards!”

Dozens of bronze-armoured fae appeared in the blink of an eye, teleporting in a circle around them. Werewolves marched from inside the castle towards them, taking up position in the open spaces between the fae warriors. Spears and swords pointed their way as they all took an aggressive stance.

Fuck. That wasn’t good. She should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. It never was. Part of her couldn’t believe all those werewolf shifters were following Faxon’s orders.

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