A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies)

20 MADINIA

The council voted against us.

It wasn’t even a close vote. Verdion sat at the head of the table, a small smile playing around his lips.

Thousands—perhaps hundreds of thousands—of people would die. And he was perfectly content. No, he was smug.

My hands burned, but I was getting better at controlling the fire that sparked within me.

“Why?” Rythos demanded.

“It’s simple,” a man next to Verdion said, stroking his dark beard. “While His Majesty may have broken our laws by not bringing such an important decision to the council—” he leveled Verdion with a long look, which Verdion ignored “—his logic was sound. Despite your passionate argument for us to involve ourselves in a war not of our own making, to do so would needlessly risk our own people. The Arslan will renegotiate with Regner. We will explain how our wards work and communicate our expectation not to be involved in this war.”

The stupidity of his words stunned me into speechlessness.

A muscle twitched in Rythos’s jaw.

“Leave,” Verdion said.

I planted my feet. I wasn’t going anywhere. I opened my mouth, but Rythos’s expression had…changed.

This time, fire truly did burn in my hands, my power automatically leaping to protect me from the threat. Several Arslan glowered at me. But it was Rythos they should have been paying attention to.

His expression was perfectly pleasant. His eyes sparkled, and his head tilted in that strange fae way that never failed to make the hair rise on the back of my neck.

My hands burned hotter. But he wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t even looking at his father. No, he was looking at the council.

And every one of them had stopped talking. They were looking back.

My heart thundered in my chest, and I took a step closer to the door. But I couldn’t stop myself from watching, even as my instincts screamed at me to run before I was caught up in it too.

“This makes me sad,” Rythos said. “I’ve come here to extend the hand of friendship.”

Verdion choked. “Don’t you dare.”

Rythos didn’t even spare him a glance. I could feel his power, the tendrils of it sweeping through the room, searching for the weakest—

“I’ll be your friend,” the woman with the braids spoke up.

“Silence!” Verdion roared, but it was too late.

“Don’t choose her,” the bearded man at Verdion’s side snapped. “I would make a much better friend.”

Rythos smiled, and it was terrible. “We can all be friends, don’t you think?”

“If you do this, it is a declaration of war.” Verdion was trembling now.

Rythos spared him a single glance. “This is the reason you decided I was too much of a threat to be able to live here, isn’t it, Father? I do so love being able to prove you right.” He turned to the others. “I have a suggestion.”

“What kind of suggestion?” one of the men asked.

“I think we should help my other friends.”

“Your other friends?” Jealousy smothered the man’s question. My stomach swam.

Rythos grinned. And even without the power dripping from it, it was an impressive grin, his teeth very white against his dark skin. “Yes. I’m hoping, one day, we can all be friends. But for that to happen, we need to share.”

“Share?”

“Yes. Remember the ships I asked for?”

Slowly, methodically, Rythos guided them through what he wanted. His power didn’t completely replace their will. No, that was Vicer’s power. But now that the council members each considered him to be their best friend, they were willing to listen to what he had to say. They were willing to think logically and to put their political aspirations aside. They cooperated with one another because Rythos asked his friends to work together.

I felt the threat of his power, but he was being very careful to keep it focused away from me. And yet I couldn’t allow myself to relax, couldn’t seem to kill my instinct to prepare to defend myself.

The use of so much power was costing him. A bead of sweat appeared at his temple, signaling the strain. I could understand why. Rythos had to ensure these people would want to cooperate even after we left the island.

Verdion’s eyes were bulging, but he seemed to be unable to speak, as if it was taking all of his power not to be swept away in Rythos’s friendship. But he was the only one who had any such immunity. Horror flickered across his face as he watched his council vote unanimously for the Arslan to join the war.

“You will pay for this,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Likely I will. Cheer up, father. You’re getting what you wanted. After all, this was what you always feared. The reason you never trusted me. I’m pleased I could prove you right.”

“Never return,” Verdion gasped out.

One corner of Rythos’s mouth kicked up. “Once this war is won, I have no plans to.” He turned to the general. “We will meet to discuss our approach within three hours. Gather anyone who should attend such a meeting.”

Turning, Rythos stalked out, ignoring the council members who implored him to stay.

My hand was shaking as I closed the door behind me, following him out. I’d seen him use his power on Regner’s guards at the castle, but this…

He was ignoring me, his strides long as he slammed open a door. I followed him inside what looked like a series of rooms for guests. Within a moment, Rythos had disappeared through another door, and I stood in the entryway, heart pounding.

Retching sounded. It went on and on as Rythos vomited, the sound broken only by what sounded like rough sobs.

I strode to the window and stared sightlessly out at the city, grinding my teeth. Prisca should be here. I wasn’t exactly someone who knew what to do or say under such circumstances.

Finally, what felt like hours later, Rythos stepped back into the room. He strode toward the window where I stood, and with every step, the lines of grief carved into his face faded, until his expression was carefully blank.

“Are you…”

“I’m fine.”

I nodded, returning my attention to the city below us. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. I wasn’t going to push him.

We stood in silence for a long time. Long enough that my feet began to ache. Perhaps I should leave him alone.

“Prisca was my first true hybrid friend,” Rythos said, and I almost jolted at the suddenness of it. “She wanted nothing from me except friendship. The kind of woman she is…the loyalty she exudes…there are very few things I could do to lose that friendship. And I would never risk it.”

“She is annoyingly persistent, isn’t she?”

His mouth twitched. “That’s one way to describe her. Once, when Lorian and Prisca first met—when they were still at each other’s throats—Lorian implied to her that I’d used my power on her.” I shook my head, and Rythos laughed. “Yes, I should have known then that they were mates. The move was so beneath him. So utterly unlike the man I knew.”

“He’d never done such a thing before?”

He shook his head. “Lorian isn’t known for his subtlety. When he wants something, he goes after it. Until Prisca. She was the one thing he wanted but couldn’t let himself have. And it tortured him. At the time, Prisca and I weren’t even truly friends yet. But the betrayal in her eyes…it was devastating. I would never want to see that expression and know I had caused it. Not on Prisca, and not on any of my friends.”

I couldn’t have understood this just a few months ago. Now…now, I was beginning to.

“But you used it on your father’s council.”

Our eyes met. My voice held no judgment, and something in his expression relaxed when he realized I wasn’t being malicious. I was, after all, the one who had insisted Vicer use his power against Kaelin Stillcrest. If he had…

A tiny grave appeared in my mind, Whirna lying next to it, her voice agonized.

“I promised him I would keep him safe. It was my job to keep him safe.”

Rythos was still watching me. I cleared my throat. “I don’t blame you. I would have done it too.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Rythos said. “Just months ago, I never could have imagined I would have done such a thing. I was enraged at the mere suggestion from my father that I was too dangerous to be allowed access to his council. And I spent years believing he had unjustly banished me from our territory.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I could have saved myself years of angst and rage by simply admitting that he was right. I was a threat.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you were a threat. And if Verdion had behaved as a true leader should, instead of holding on to pettiness over ancient grudges, you likely never would have acted on that threat.”

He went still. “It’s that simple to you?”

Impatience swept through me. “I’m not Prisca. If you want soft words about how this one choice doesn’t change anything about your worth, talk to her. People who question their decisions and refuse to act based on preconceived ideas about right and wrong are useless in this war. If we’re going to win, we need to use every weapon available to us. Vicer…Vicer didn’t use his power, even when his instincts likely screamed at him to do so. And hundreds of hybrids paid for it with their lives.” I pushed the image of that tiny grave out of my head once more and focused on Rythos. “Do you believe the gods give us our powers for a reason?”

He shrugged one shoulder, turning to watch a group of Arslan walking below. They looked so…carefree, laughing as they strolled toward the water. Had I ever been that carefree?

“I never used to believe such a thing,” Rythos said. “I thought our powers were nothing more than coincidence. And then I met Prisca. I saw what she could do, and I realized we might truly have a chance to win this war.”

If there was one thing Prisca was good at, it was getting people to believe in her. I’d once dismissed the power of hope. But that hope could be what made us survive this war.

“I don’t think the gods make mistakes. I believe they take too much of an interest in some of our lives, but nothing is accidental. Why else would Lorian have the kind of power he does, when it would make more sense for it to belong to the fae king? You were given your power for a reason. Perhaps it was all for this.”

“Perhaps it was not,” a frigid voice said from behind us.

I whirled. The man standing in front of us must have moved incredibly quietly for Rythos’s fae senses not to have noticed him. And I was betting I could guess how.

He was taller than Rythos, although not quite as broad. He had the same wide mouth, but his eyes were cold.

Rythos stiffened. “Brevan.”

The Arslan heir swept his gaze over me dismissively before returning it to Rythos. But I wasn’t interested in him either.

I was far more interested in the guards gathered behind him.

Gwynara swam toward me with the fluidity of a fish. I barely dodged her as she hurtled for the shore.

“Get out,” she gasped, but I was already diving deep, knife in one hand, arrow in the other.

It was dark beneath the surface––pitch black, as if we were inside the belly of some vast, lethal monster. The only light came from the dim light pooling above us, casting shadows into the depths. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and turned, but it was gone before I could strike out.

A moment later, I could see the men, three of them together, their legs powering them toward the shore. But Nyrik’s blood continued to darken the water around them.

More movement. And this time, I caught sight of the creature—about three times the width of the largest eel I’d ever seen, its open mouth displaying rows of vicious teeth. Teeth that still held pieces of Nyrik’s flesh trapped between them.

My lungs had already begun to ache. But I could see what would happen. The monstrous eel was waiting below, and any moment now, it would approach diagonally, shooting up from the depths of the lake. Right before Demos and the others made it to shore.

I gripped the hilt of my dagger tightly, curled my knees in, and thrust them out, crossing the water to meet it.

The serpent creature was much, much faster than I was. But I was closer to the others. And I shoved my body in front of them, striking out with the knife.

It dodged me so easily, that if it could have laughed, it probably would have sniggered at me. It reared, shooting toward me, but I’d kept the arrow carefully hidden, and the moment it crossed within distance of my left arm, that yawning mouth open and ready to pluck my limbs from my body…

I shoved the arrow deep into the giant red hole of its open mouth.

It let out a noise so loud, I could even hear the muffled sound of it underwater. Another creature approached, darting toward me, and Brinlor met it with his sword, his frantic gaze telling me without words to swim.

My lungs were screaming at me now.

Air. Gods, I needed air. I could see the surface above me, the dim light so close and yet somehow thousands of footspans away.

Strong fingers caught my wrist, pulling me up.

I surfaced with a sob-like gasp, and Demos’s eyes met mine.

A series of emotions flickered across his face, almost too quickly to see. Relief, terror, fury, a strange, desperate need. Almost immediately, though, he turned his head and began yanking me toward the shore.

A single glance behind me told me the others were close. Together, we swam desperately. My teeth chattered with a mixture of cold and fear.

Shouts sounded. Demos and I both turned, and he pushed me behind him, shielding me with his body.

“Swim,” he ordered.

But I couldn’t. Because one of the creatures had surfaced like a dolphin, flying through the air toward Horrison. He bared his teeth, readying his sword. But a scaled monster was approaching from his left.

Demos swam back toward them, his knife in his hand. Brinlor approached on their right, flailing through the water desperately in an attempt to shield Horrison.

But it was Nyrik who used his one good arm to punch Horrison straight in the jaw. Screams sounded from the fae and hybrids behind us.

Horrison fell back, and Nyrik took his place, his expression grim as he met his fate.

The creature clamped its teeth around his throat, the force of its leap taking Nyrik down into the depths of the lake below.

Demos struck out at the creature on the left, his sword slicing deep into its head. His blade was so sharp it slid through scales and flesh, and I let out a tiny sound as the force of his blow pushed him beneath the water.

I made it perhaps two footspans closer to him before he surfaced, whipping his head toward the space where Nyrik was no longer swimming.

“Everyone out of the water!” he ordered.

I doubted it was just water that rolled down Horrison’s face as he swam toward me. Brinlor followed him, while Demos waited, covering their backs. He sliced a furious look at me, and I turned, heading toward shore.

The stubborn bastard wouldn’t get out of the water until I did.

By the time we hauled ourselves out and lay gasping for air, I could have kissed the hard rock beneath us. But Demos was already pulling me to my feet and backing me away from the others, behind one of the rocky crevices.

I waited for him to snarl at me.

Instead, his mouth slammed down on mine.

Demos’s kiss was a punishment. He bit my lip, soothed it with his tongue, and then swept that tongue deeper, demanding entrance to my mouth. He slid his large hand into the wet tangle of my hair and held me in place as his lips ravished mine. My entire body heated, turning relaxed, languid, until all I could do was open for him and follow where he led.

And then his mouth gentled, his tongue stroking mine teasingly. His other hand came up to cup my cheek, before sliding down to encircle my throat.

He didn’t tighten his hand, but the threat was there.

He leaned back, and I swayed into him, wanting more. When I opened my eyes, he was glowering down at me, his eyes still holding a feral gleam.

I shivered, and his frown softened. “You need to change out of those wet clothes.” His voice felt as intimate as a warm hand sweeping across my bare skin.

I placed one hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “You’re angry with me.” I told myself I didn’t care. At least he was alive.

“I am. When I saw you get in that water, I wanted to strangle you myself.” He tightened his hand a little, then released me.

And just like that, all relaxation disappeared.

“You’re welcome,” I snapped.

“Thank you,” Demos said gravely. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t.”

It was quite unlikely we would ever be in a situation that involved a dark lake, a fae amulet, and vicious, deadly serpent creatures.

Demos narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth.

Someone let out a string of curses, and we both turned.

Gwynara lifted her head, tears running down her face.

“It’s not the real amulet,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s a fake.”