Page 46 of Bride of the Corpse King

“No more schemes, Mathyr,” I command and rip into the cork with my teeth. “The day must be perfect for her.”

Aydon snorts. “Because we all know how the night will go. Unlike you, brother, I shall see to it my bride is properlypleasuredtonight.”

I cage a low growl in my throat. “You stated you were planning to wait to consummate the marriage.”

“I suppose we will have to see how the night goes, brother. The possibilities are endless for me, and I will take every opportunity unlike you.”

Yes because I will sacrifice my heart on the altar of whatever is left of my soul. My honor is something Kryach can never steal. While Aydon will fuck as many consorts as he wants, the memory of love is what I may forever hold?even as the rest of me falls apart.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Aydon mutters, donning his Prince crown of gold-lacquered bones to mirror his epaulets and tunic lining. “I have business with the elders before the wedding preparations.”

I slug more wine. What business could Aydon possibly have with the elders? Probably some traditional ritual to incorporate into the ceremony. A ceremony he has promised will be the grandest in all of Talahn-Feyal history.

Mathyr excuses herself to Isla. I am far too tempted to follow, to ensure my dark rose is treated with respect. But I doubt even Mathyr would disturb this day’s sacred rites. Above all, she will honor our traditions and my bride’s flesh and bones, though I know she will be harsher than a Ban-Sythe when it comes to the grooming process. In any case, Isla can handle my mother.

So, I pursue Aydon. It takes more effort to mask myself because Aydon is familiar with my deception and Kryach’s shadow power and blood-fire essence. I maintain my distance, following him onto the private train to the Elder Guild. His lack of escort is dumbfounding. While I have no need for any bone warriors, Aydon as Crown Prince and the true political foundation, never travels beyond the Citadel without them. Apprehension thickens in my throat, and I swallow. He’s up to something.

Why the devil should I care?Not like I’ve shown any interest in Aydon and his schemes and secrets. He keeps the kingdom running because my pain is too great to bother with political matters. Talahn-Feyal is thriving. Our castles are well-stocked, our citizens’ bellies are full, mothers are fat and happy, and throughout the kingdom, cities are known for their balls where the Feyal-Ithydeir may find their human matches. Menders are plenteous.

And tonight, the gods will be more appeased than ever.

But the refter attack on the bridge, Kanat’s ruthful plans, the bane of Morrygna, and Kryach’s obsession with Isla are my personal thorns. I grit my teeth. Because I’ll be damned if Aydon’s schemes drive another into my flesh.

On the way, an abundance of bone trains route to the Osdyel arenas?the lodging districts. Some will depart in the morning following the reception, but the kingdom nobles will remain longer along with the royals, of course. Aydon will busy himself with countless noble affairs over the next few weeks.

The Guild is a veritable grave of empty courts. Due to the wedding, all business has been postponed. Torches in iron holders are the only sources of light throughout the halls, making it simpler to track my brother. A couple of times, he pauses and sweeps back his cape to peer over his shoulder. But he shakes his head and progresses to the last court: Kanat’s, the highest and largest.

It’s worse than I could have predicted. I tighten my mantle of shadows to prevent the blood-fire tide from creeping beyond. The manacles. The shackles. The chains. Not since the ancient days of unchecked war has our race resorted to the vile stain ofslavery. Now, its stain infects my eyes, penetrating me with its sick pestilence. A deeper rot than my refter. Heavier than the gods’ Curse.

Under the glory of an ornate chandelier of fused stag antler bones sits an iron throne since only royals possess bone thrones. But the throne is empty as Aydon and Kanat stand in the court center facing the humans.Shackledhumans.

Surrounded by Feyal-masters, the humans bow their heads, eyes trained on the ground. Not one is from Talahn-Feyal. Our humans understand their flesh-worth to the Feyal-Ithyderians, understand the protection of our laws. All these humans know is slavery?birthed in their blood, bred for this existence. The lack of children is hardly a comfort. This grievous wound will plague our sacred nation. A forever blemish.

My nostrils flare. Rage pounds blood to my ears. No pain could compare to this new disease birthed by my own brother. Seething, I somehow manage to control myself as he inspects the shackled humans, prodding their flesh beyond their meager fabric scraps, squeezing, testing them for strength. Chin high, he nods.

When Elder Kanat passes the young men and women, nodding his confirmation following my brother, my rage nearly erupts. Blood-fire quakes around my form. Almost shatters my shadow shield, threatening to strangle the life out of the elder.

Until my brother speaks to the flesh-masters, “Dispatch these to the nobles. See they are well-fed tonight. All expect a grand wedding feast after all,” he snickers, and Kanat joins with the too-easy chuckle. “I trust the last haul was delivered promptly to the lower elders?”

The head Feyal-master bows his head and responds, “Just as you ordered, Your Highness. And your personal collection will be delivered shortly before dawn to your consort chambers as you directed.”

“Good. I will dine on them after I leave my bride. Proceed,” he dismisses them with a mere gesture.

The rattling of the chains echoes in my ears. Worse than any death rattle. I vow to Kryach Aydon will answer for this injustice! But I must tread carefully, cautiously. When he has the kingdom in his hand, the seal of elder approval, of the nobles, the respect from the royalsandtheir gods...

Fuck it all, if I seek Kryach to right this wrong, I know what he will demand as a price.

“Thanks to your rule, the kingdom is more prosperous than ever,” Kanat commends Aydon, interrupting my thoughts.

“Indeed,” Aydon agrees, swaying to the other side of the room, to the court table with its documents and wine flasks. “The untapped wealth of the mines more than pays for foreign flesh to sate our elites’ appetites. Necessary when demand is high for these significant events. Especially when our human population has dwindled due to much inbreeding.”

My ears ring with the information. I harden my jaw. A double curse. An iron striking fire into my heart because I forsook this responsibility when I became Kryach’s vessel. This is the price. I knew Aydon was on good terms with Kanat, close terms. But I never could have imagined this.

Once the next haul of humans is ushered in for Aydon and Kanat’s inspection, I steal away from the Elder Guild, return to the Citadel, return to my inner chambers where I shatter every mirror to cover my roars.

Ultimately, I know what I must do. For the first time in history, the Corpse King must give up his bride. Body, mind, heart, and soul. I cannot sacrifice my kingdom and its honor for the sake of one bride...no matter how much I desire her.

Unless she is indeed the mallyach-ender. If so, I would sacrifice all honor. If she is the Curse Ender, no force in the world?not even the God of Death?will stop me from protecting her.

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