A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies)

16 PRISCA

“I’m sorry,” Lorian murmured as Kaelin Stillcrest walked away. “I wanted this night to be perfect for you.”

And that ugly scene had been far from perfect.

But it was reality. We were at war. Besides…

“Vicer is alive, Lorian. That’s all that matters.”

He took my hand, and then he was tugging me toward the side of the tent, where cooler air danced toward us. Several people nearby whistled, and Lorian smirked, sweeping me out of the tent and into his arms.

Someone had arranged for a carriage to meet us directly outside the tent. The driver bowed his head in greeting, and I stepped inside as Lorian helped me with my gown.

He followed me, his huge body taking up most of the space, and I nestled under his arm as he leaned close, pressing his warm lips to mine. Something bumped against my chest, and I shifted away long enough to take in the amulet.

“Conreth gave that to you.”

He gave me a grumpy, put-upon look. “I don’t want to talk about my brother.”

I laughed, nuzzling close. “This was the best day of my life.”

“Mine too. I know it’s a human custom, but…it means something to be your husband as well. Mates don’t often marry. They don’t need to. A mating is for eternity, and none would disrespect it. But our wedding wasn’t just so you could feel we were bonded together in your culture as well as mine.”

“Is that so?”

He angled his head, watching me closely. “It was another way to tie you to me. Another way to make it clear to everyone that you’re mine.”

“Well,” I said, doing my best to keep my face blank. “Now that is truly shocking.”

He narrowed his eyes, and I burst out laughing.

The carriage stopped, and he helped me down, murmuring a few words to the driver.

Inside, the castle was quiet. We’d snuck out of our own wedding, and we didn’t see a single person as we made our way up to our rooms.

Someone had left light orbs glowing dimly, along with a platter of food waiting on a table near the window.

Strangely, something was fluttering in my stomach. Lorian leaned over and wrapped me in his arms from behind, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Nervous?”

“A little. Is that strange?”

“Nothing you feel is strange.”

His voice was a low rumble, and as he turned me to face him, my nerves disappeared. Anyone who had heard of the Bloodthirsty Prince would never be able to reconcile the fact that this was the man with that reputation. The man who looked at me with so much tenderness, my eyes stung.

“Do you trust me, Prisca?”

“With my life.”

His eyes glittered with male satisfaction.

“Will you trust me now?”

I peered up at him.

My stomach fluttered again—this time in anticipation. I nodded.

Lorian smiled. One of those slow, brilliant smiles that made my heart flip in my chest. He reached behind me, and at some point, he’d studied the back of my dress. His clever fingers plucked the ribbons, and my dress fell to my ankles.

I stood in front of him wearing nothing but a few scraps of bronze lace and gold shoes. The material seemed to glow in the candlelight, and Lorian’s breath whooshed out of his lungs.

His smile disappeared, and he took a step closer, gently tracing the edge of the lace along my breast.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do to you for a very long time,” he said, and my heart stopped as his eyes met mine. They gleamed with a feral possessiveness. “Something I’ve dreamed of doing to you since the moment you stopped time when we were below Sabium’s rooms.”

My breath hitched. “You were so angry.”

“I was furious. I looked up, and you had disappeared, reappearing near the top of the stairs. It was then that I realized that you could leave me at any time. If you wanted to escape me, you could.” He leaned down until his lips were almost touching mine. “I wanted to tie you to my bed. To look at you and know that for at least that long, you couldn’t leave me, even if you tried. I wanted to make you lose your mind with pleasure, so that when you were finally free, all you would be able to think about was me and the way I felt inside you.”

My thighs tightened, my nipples hardened, and my core ached for him. Lorian smiled. He knew.

But he waited.

It was the ultimate act of trust. But I already trusted him with my life. With the lives of everyone I loved. And the thought of being tied up, displayed for him…

“Yes.”

Lorian’s nostrils flared. And then I was lying on the bed, and he held up four long, thick black ribbons.

“You were planning this.”

“Wildcat, some part of me has been planning this since the moment I caught you attempting to steal my horse.” He dropped a kiss to my nose and then gave me a wicked smile as he took my left hand.

My heart pounded, and he pressed his lips to my racing pulse, his mouth lingering along the sensitive skin of my wrist. I shivered, and his mouth curved against my skin.

“If you want me to stop…”

“I don’t.”

“If you do, say the word ‘valeo.’” He stretched my arm above my head, wrapping one of the black ribbons around my wrist. I craned my neck, but the headboard was flat. And yet, I could no longer raise that arm. It was as if my wrist was stuck to the mattress above me.

“I don’t understand.”

“They’re enchanted,” Lorian murmured, pressing another kiss below my ear. “You can struggle as much as you like. But you won’t be going anywhere.”

I was so wet, my thighs had dampened. So aroused, I was already trembling. Lorian let out a low laugh.

“Is it any wonder I’m convinced the gods created you just for me?” he breathed, his tone full of wonder.

I frowned at him. “Perhaps the gods created you just for me.”

“They created us for each other.”

“I refuse to give them that much credit,” I muttered as he took my other wrist.

He hummed, pressing kisses along my inner arm, wrapping that black ribbon around my wrist.

When my arms were immobile, he lifted his head. His eyes glowed.

I shifted my legs restlessly, and the smile he gave me dripped with dark promise. “They’re next.”

My body shook as he slowly tied my left ankle, pausing to kiss his way back up my leg, nuzzling at my inner thigh. When he kissed his way down my other leg, I arched, already desperate.

Gods, he made me want.

A low chuckle, and then that foot was caught too.

Lorian shifted until he stood in front of the bed. And he just looked at me.

I squirmed. “What are you doing?”

The look in his eyes was all dark promise. “Memorizing this sight.” His gaze caressed every inch of me, as hot as his mouth had been on my skin.

“Lorian…”

He crawled onto the bed, hovering over me. When our eyes met, I sucked in an unsteady breath. His pupils were encircled by the tiniest slice of green, his eyes glazed.

“I could tease you for hours…”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” His voice echoed strangely, and I shivered. The movement seemed to please him, and he dropped his head, lapping at my skin.

I gasped as he found my nipple. “Because I need you inside me.”

“Do you know how many times I dreamed you would say those words to me?” He shifted until I could feel him, hot and heavy and so thick, positioned right at my core.

“How many times?” I whispered.

“Countless. And each time, I loathed myself for it, because you could never be mine.”

Slowly, he began to push into me. I angled my hips, but he placed one hand on my hip, easily holding me in place.

“But you’re mine now.”

Twisting his hips, Lorian pulled back. Then he plunged into me with one long stroke. I gasped, my hands automatically straining with the need to do something.

And the fact that I couldn’t…

“You are so, so wet,” he whispered.

I was also on the edge, my body trembling. Lorian’s eyes flared as he felt me tightening. “Well,” he purred. “That was easy.”

“You smug bastard.”

“I have another ribbon. For that beautiful, vicious mouth.”

I clamped my lips shut, and he laughed, lowering his head to thrust his tongue between them. I moaned into his mouth, panting, and he thrust forward, still holding me in place as I attempted to buck up into him.

All I could do was take what he chose to give me. My limbs turned weak, and I let out a low groan.

“There you go.” Lorian slipped his hand down to caress my clit. Once. Twice.

My vision went dark, every muscle in my body clenching, shuddering as my climax tore through me.

I was still trembling when I came back to myself to find Lorian still hard within me.

He simply gave me a pleased smile and continued that slow, steady thrusting.

I was so sensitive, I shook my head, and he just laughed. “Valeo?”

“No. But—”

“Then I get to do what I want.”

The hand on my hip slid to my butt, angling me for him. And he drove into me, each thrust hitting that spot within me. Every inch of my body was suddenly too sensitive, even as I craved more, more, more.

I strained against the ribbons, and Lorian’s eyes turned wild as he watched me.

“Come for me.”

I clamped down around him, waves of pleasure overtaking me, pouring from my core, through each of my limbs. It went on and on, pure euphoria choking a moan from my throat as he pounded into me. And then he stiffened, and I could feel the length of him pulsing inside me as he buried his head in my neck and shook.

The ribbons disappeared. Sliding my arms around him, I panted, vaguely shocked.

Slowly, Lorian lifted his head, his green eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Did you enjoy that?”

“You know I did.”

His smile was satisfied and vaguely smug. “I can’t wait for hundreds of years just like this.”

Rolling to the side, he lifted each of my limbs, studying them carefully.

“What is it?”

“The ribbons are enchanted to never hurt you. But I wanted to check.”

My heart melted. “I’m glad we were married here. You were right. It was perfect.”

“Repeat the part about how I was right.”

I poked him in the ribs, and he pulled me down until I lay across his chest—his favorite relaxed position.

I’d almost drifted off when he kissed my head. “I heard Cavis today. I saw him too.”

Lifting my head, I stared down at him.

Lorian smiled at me. It was a devastating, heartbreaking smile. And yet there was a touch of joy in it. “If I am to be haunted by the people I have killed, so be it. But I didn’t kill Cavis. And seeing him on my wedding day…hearing him…it was a gift, Prisca.”

My throat swelled. “What did he say?” I whispered.

“He said you looked beautiful. And that I had better treat you well.”

My eyes filled, and he kissed the tear that rolled down my cheek.

They’d celebrated today. A wedding.

I’d caught some of it from my window. Had even heard the guards murmuring, mentioning the fae prince had ensured they each received a plate of food from the wedding feast.

Myfood had been the same chicken and root vegetables as yesterday.

The door opened, and I whirled.

“Mother.” Jamic smiled, and it was wide and familiar. There was no sign of his suffering on his face or in his eyes. But it would be there, burrowed deep within him. And he would carry it always.

The guards closed the door behind him, and I opened my arms. He’d grown so tall, and he strode to me in just a few steps, patting my back.

Finally, I was touching my son. I could feel him, warm and alive. No longer was he suffering each day while I paced my chambers, powerless to save him.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“In the fae lands. Learning how to wield my power properly.”

My mouth wanted to twist, and I forced my expression into neutrality. Of course the fae would attempt to use Jamic for their own gain.

“Have they treated you well? Are they giving you enough food?”

Jamic’s expression turned puzzled. “Of course.”

“And your power.” I lowered my voice. “Do you retain everything Regner gave you?”

He stiffened. “You mean everything he forced upon me? It was not a gift, Mother.”

My cheeks heated. “Of course not. No one knows that more than I. You were nothing more than a vessel. One he would have killed when it suited him. But my question remains. Do you still have that power?”

His gaze searched my face, but he gave a single, sharp nod.

My body suddenly felt lighter than air, and my smile felt foreign—too wide for my face. “Good. When all this is over, we will rule Eprotha together.”

Jamic stared at me. And for a moment, I had a flash of the tiny boy he had been on that day when I had hissed at him that I was not his mother. It was a look almost like… betrayal.

I cupped his face. “We will undo all of Regner’s evil,” I promised. “Our people will thrive.”

Jamic still didn’t speak. What had happened to my son? Had Regner’s evil caused so much damage to his mind that he now trusted no one? Or had that hybrid bitch turned him against me?

I hadn’t seen him for too long. He had grown into a man. And he had forgotten that I was the one who had ensured he would do so.

My mind raced. It wasn’t too late. I could turn him back to me once more. But it would take time and a soft hand.

“I’m sorry,” I sat down on the nearest sofa, patting the space next to me. “You probably don’t want to talk about such things. Why don’t you tell me about the fae lands? I’ve always wanted to visit.”

The tension left his face, and he walked over to me, the hint of a smile softening his features.

Prisca shifted in her sleep, a tiny sound leaving her throat.

I opened my eyes to slits. But that sound hadn’t been what woke me.

No, it was the screaming in the distance.

Prisca shifted again. I wasn’t surprised she hadn’t yet woken. I could barely make out the sound with my fae senses.

But it was getting closer.

Rolling out of bed, I pulled on my pants, reaching for my sword. Crossing to the balcony, I looked down into the gardens.

Nothing.

From the front, then.

Regner had learned of our wedding night. And he’d waited until we were the happiest we could be. Until Rekja’s guards were tired. Until there were more people moving in and out of the castle than usual. People he could use.

The screams had cut off. A bad sign. Likely, Regner’s iron guards were sneaking through this castle, slicing throats and dragging bodies into the shadows.

Prowling back toward our bed. I placed my hand over Prisca’s mouth. She came awake swinging, and pride flashed through me even as her fist caught the side of my face.

“We’re under attack,” I whispered into her ear. She tensed, pushing against my arm, and I let her sit up.

“Lorian.” The word was almost soundless, but confusion flickered across her face.

“I know. It’s too quiet. But I heard screaming. We need to get to Galon and Marth.” Without her power, Prisca was too vulnerable here. They could guard her while I went hunting.

Something that looked almost like despair flickered across her face, and I knew she was mourning her missing power. Knew she loathed that we had to make allowances for it. But she didn’t argue when I threw her my shirt— simply pulled it on, grabbed a knife from the bedside table, and slid from the bed, moving almost as soundlessly as I had.

We took two steps toward the door…

And soldiers burst into the room.

All of them wore Eprothan colors.

Grinding my teeth, I reached for my control, refusing to allow myself to end each and every one of them. If I used all of my remaining power here and now, I would be drained when I needed to get whoever survived this attack out of the city later.

So I shoved my power down deep. So deep that it felt as if it might burn me alive. And I tightened my hand around my sword.

Gods, I hoped the others were still alive.

“You made a mistake coming here,” I said, pushing Prisca behind me, toward the bed. And I didn’t miss the confusion on her face. I couldn’t blame her for that confusion. She’d trusted me, and I’d let this happen. On our wedding night.

“The Bloodthirsty Prince,” a man hissed, stepping forward.

I no longer saw him as human. I simply saw him as a target.

Until I looked at his face. His ruined face. A face that had been melted.

The realization slid into me slowly. My head spun. I’d already killed this man. I was sure I had.

To my left, several soldiers snarled at me, stab wounds leaking blood down their chests. To my right, another lifted his dagger with a hiss, the bottom half of his leg missing.

These were the dead. And they wanted their revenge.

A man stumbled toward me. A man with no hands. A man I’d killed in an inn far from here, when he’d dared put those hands on my wildcat.

He gave me a nasty grin and held up his stumps. “Oh, how I’ve wanted to pay you back for this. You and that little bitch.”

A woman laughed as she slunk closer, a sword in her hand, one eye gazing at me. Her other eye was gone, an empty hole remaining. “Are you pleased by the horror you’ve wielded?” she purred. “You hold the title of one of the deadliest creatures to ever walk this continent.”

Fae fire filled my hands.

“Lorian, no.”

I blinked. And it was Cavis who was standing in front of me.

He should have moved on. Should be at peace. Was I keeping him here?

“No,” he said, reading my mind. “You’ll know when it’s time for me to go. If you survive that long.”

The soldiers moved toward Cavis, and the sound that came out of me was animalistic. A snarl that ripped through the room.

They would come no closer to him. Or I would make them pay.

The dead paused. But I had a feeling they wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“You’re not holding me here,” Cavis said. “But you’re holding them here. You have to choose, Lorian.”

“Choose?”

He gave me an impatient look, his gaze steady. And he pointed to the bed, where Prisca sat, staring wide-eyed at me.

This war didn’t get to take what we had.

It could take everything else, but it couldn’t take that.

The Bloodthirsty Prince, the dead had hissed. That was the title I heard over and over. I’d once said the title didn’t matter. Perhaps it hadn’t. Until I’d met her.

The woman who’d made me want to be a better man. The woman who made me care.

“Choose, Lorian,” Cavis demanded once more. “Now.”

And I understood.

I might have been given the ability to see the dead, but I didn’t have to see these soldiers. I saw the people I killed because I harbored guilt for those deaths. Because despite my pretense at accepting my title of the Bloodthirsty Prince, I’d always loathed it. And I’d allowed Prisca to defend anyone who dared to name me as such.

It was a weakness—that guilt.

Each and every person I’d killed had deserved to die. They’d threatened my people. Or worse, they’d threatened Prisca.

The man with no hands would have left her hanging in that inn.

The soldier with the gaping wound in his throat had kept her caged in Regner’s cell.

That one there—with half his face missing—he’d leaped at her in Sorlithia, swinging a broadsword at her back.

Realization came swiftly. The name held no power over me anymore. I would no longer feel ashamed of it. I was the Bloodthirsty Prince. And I would keep that title until the day I died.

To keep her safe.

The dead disappeared. Cavis winked at me.

And then he was gone.

“Lorian,” Prisca said carefully. Gods, she was white. And she trembled in our bed. Swallowing self-disgust at the way I’d frightened her, I placed my sword on a chair nearby and strode to her.

She leaped into my arms, burying her face in my neck.

“It’s better. I’m better now, wildcat. I promise.”