14
Donning a black satin cape with skulls embroidered in a fine burgundy thread, I straightened the last of my formal attire in preparation for dinner. Despite my preference for armor, I understood the importance of one’s appearance in all social settings, and this dinner was no exception. I abhorred the black fabric draped over a single, muscled shoulder. At best it encumbered eating; at worst, it made one an easy target for attack.
I never went anywhere without daggers strapped to my person. Not like I needed them. My magic was potent enough to kill anyone who dared assault me. But again, appearances were important, and the sharp edges were part of that facade.
My black, knee-high boots shone from their fresh polish, the gold buckles gleaming to match. Satisfied that no wrinkles sullied the wool pants and cotton dress tunic beneath my formal jacket, I strapped two additional weapons to hidden loops inside the cape and exited my sleeping chamber.
Rapp was sprawled on the angular loungers in my sitting area. He’d changed from his burgundy leathers to a similar ensemble, complete with a burgundy cape to match his eyes. That was the way of the Demons—as many reminders of our power as we could manage. As for me, I preferred black so no one forgot who I was and what I could do.
“Ready?”
I asked gruffly.
Rapp caught the rough crystal as it dropped back toward his face, then sat upright, returning the stone to where it belonged on a wooden table jutted against the leather sofa. “Unfortunately.”
As we made for the door, Grem and Zeec started to follow, but I called them off, giving each a scratch behind their furry ears before sending them to their beds.
We met Xannirin in the hall. The Kral of the Demons wore a gold cape dripping in tiny burgundy gems that matched the crown resting upon his brow. A sharp point jutted down his forehead, the tip nearly resting between his brows, with mirror ones reaching for the sky. A thick, intricately etched circle of gold ringed his head, attaching the spikes and other delicate details. The crown reminded me in a way of the ebony horned helmet I wore in battle, though the trail of precious gemstones in every shade of red would have been out of place on my head.
“My Kral,”
Rapp and I greeted him with sweeping bows.
Six of his red-armored guards waited behind him, and I glared at them all as I straightened. Only one of them flinched under my gaze, and I noted which male it was. I would not allow my cousin to have sloppy sentries.
“Hadvezér Rapp, Halálhívó,”
he greeted us, the formality of the situation filling the air. Gone was our earlier casualness. In front of the others, the hierarchy needed to be maintained. “Join me as we make our way to the dining hall.”
“Certainly,”
I replied, and we fell into step, the marching of boots echoing ahead of us and alerting all to move out of the way.
Servants swept into bows as we passed, but Xannirin paid them no mind as we turned one sharp corner after another, winding to the heart of the palace where the evening’s formal dinner would take place.
“Which houses will be in attendance, cousin?”
I asked, if only to brace myself for the inevitable.
“Houses Edar, Varrir, and Tiris, as usual,”
he started. The three Nayúr held lands closest to the capital, which meant they were always present, unfortunately for me, since Orith’s father was head of House Varrir. “And House Turrokar, since they have nowhere else to go.”
Turrokar’s vidék was entirely controlled by the Angels, so that one was unsurprising. It was their new permanence in the capital that had contributed to so much questioning of Xannirin’s leadership from the other noble houses and one of the reasons we were having this fucking dinner tonight. They’d walk away reassured of our unity and my commitment to our cause.
Or so Xannirin had explained at least.
I wouldn’t call my presence in Uzhhorod a ‘commitment’ but rather an ‘abandonment’ of where I truly needed to be.
“House Nuul will also attend, though Kormánzó Ergad won’t remain through the entire evening as his wife is due to deliver their fourth child anytime,”
Xannirin finished.
So, not as many houses as I had anticipated, which pleased me.
“Four children for the Kral, you must be pleased,”
Rapp commented.
“Indeed, perhaps he will earn himself a title of Nayúr after all,”
Xannirin replied, coming to a halt in front of a set of dark wood doors. They muffled the sound of mixed voices beyond, and when the two servants reached for the fine metal handles and tugged, they unleashed the true volume of the dinner’s attendees.
While only a handful of houses were in the space, it seems they arrived in droves to compensate for the lack of representation. Table after table, laden with polished metal centerpieces, dining ware, and serving platters, greeted us, some already seated, while others mingled among the crowd. Males and females, from younglings to matrons and cousins as distant as they could be filled the space, laughing and carrying on like there wasn’t a fucking army camped outside the city walls to defend against an equally large and fervent one pushing down from the north.
A hush fell over them as the three of us entered, and then an eruption of applause assaulted my ears, many prostrating themselves as we sauntered toward the head table.
“The Fates-given conquerors of Keleti!”
“Glory to the Kral! Glory to the Halálhívó!”
On and on they went with their fawning, Xannirin soaking up every moment, while I pointedly ignored it. With the rare, powerful magic Xannirin and I possessed, it was hard to believe that the Giver had blessed us with these gifts at random. Add Kiira’s direct connection to the three into the mix, and our path was certain. The thought had taken root so deeply within the Demons that it was easy for Kiira and Xannirin’s propaganda to compel the entire population into making sacrifices to ensure their Kral sat on both thrones.
Our cousin, dressed in a delicate black silk dress that dipped low between her breasts, waited at the high table for us. Around her brow, a golden circlet perched, securing a thin, sheer veil over her face and down her back. Rounding it, I approached her, and she lifted out of her seat to plant a kiss on either cheek. “Halálhívó, it’s been too long,”
she trilled, lifting her dining cloth and placing it in her lap again as she settled.
“Yes, High Priestess, it truly has been,”
I replied, pausing for a moment to allow Rapp to greet her. The two of them were close, and they exchanged countless letters while we were way. Sometimes, she wrote to Rapp more than me. After a chaste kiss on her cheek, he continued to the head of the table with Xannirin. I lingered, needing to speak with Kiira, though any real conversation here was impossible. My seat was always at the right hand of the Kral, we’d be too far apart for an extensive conversation regardless.
“Is everything okay between us?”
I lowered my voice, and she nodded.
“I’ll be free in a few more days, then I can meet,”
she whispered back, her long lashes brushing against the ebony veil.
“Is Vardbad keeping you that busy?”
I asked, cocking my head.
She lifted her goblet and maneuvered it to her lips. “Like you wouldn’t believe. So many newcomers arrive on our doorsteps by the day. I’ll tell you more when we meet again.”
She slashed her eyes at the females around her, most of which were wives, daughters, and cousins to the males that headed the noble houses.
It wasn’t something she wanted to say in front of them.
“What about the drawings? Why do you continue to send them to Xannirin?”
I pressed. Every night since I’d seen them, those burgundy eyes had followed me into what little sleep I managed. The parchment I’d taken from Xannirin lived on my bedside table now.
Her thin brows dipped together over her round eyes. “What drawings?”
Before I could question her further, Xannirin pointedly cleared his throat.
“We’ll speak later, Kiira.”
Squeezing her shoulder, I departed, finding my seat at the opposite end of the table with Rapp on my right. Across from me, Kormánzó Sorn Turrokar looked exhausted, with heavy purple bags under his eyes, and cheeks gaunt. Even his normally well-kept hair was a mess, as if he’d been tugging on the strands endlessly and couldn’t smooth them down again.
I couldn’t blame him. After all, his home had been destroyed not even four months prior, and most of the people in his vidék were slaughtered like cattle. Those who couldn’t escape would always die at the hands of the Angels, since their sole mission was to eradicate Demons from this world. Their Goddess had deemed it so, according to Koron Stadiel, which was why he had won out over the others to become their monarch.
“Kormánzó,”
I greeted him, settling into my seat and draping the dining cloth across my lap. With an annoyed flick, I cleared the ridiculous cape from my shoulder, freeing up my left arm.
“Halálhívó,”
he greeted me in turn, sounding just as tired as he looked.
More males plopped into their seats down the table and across the room now that their Kral had arrived, and the females took their respective positions, separated from their counterparts.
“How are you enjoying your time in the capital?”
I asked, attempting to be courtly.
He grunted, then swigged from his goblet. “It’s not home.”
“We’re pleased you’re still with us,”
Xannirin butted in, shooting me a pointed look. “Grateful, in fact. With the Halálhívó’s new plan, you should be able to return to your vidék within the year.”
He chuckled, lifting his glass of scale and letting it hover in midair. “Fates, you’ll have twice the vidék to manage after we rout the Angels.”
I raised my own and clinked it against his. “Aye, as the Weaver has spun us a great path to victory. This new wave of volunteers will turn the tide and allow us to overwhelm them.”
“I sincerely hope so, My Kral,”
Sorn sighed, taking a sip as well.
Beside Sorn, Nayúr Ollmond Varrir chimed in. “And then, you’ll both be able to settle down, put your focus on building families of your own.”
The scale nearly killed me where it lodged in my throat. Rapp smothered a laugh as I leveled a hard gaze on Orith’s father, choking down the last of the burning liquid. That didn’t stop the harsh words from crawling up my throat. “Did your daughter tell you of our last encounter, Nayúr?”
I evoked his title with a much derision as I could muster, wanting him to feel just how beneath me he was. The fucker couldn’t wait for the first course to be served before pushing his agenda, for Fates’ sake.
Xannirin’s head whipped to the side, and I shrugged. It wasn’t my fault that the male couldn’t understand the word never.
“She did.”
The words slipped out casually, like they meant nothing, and I almost pitied the female for being little more than a tool to be used by her father. Almost.
My neck heated, and a tremble of rage built in my chest. “And my words to her didn’t deter either of you?”
“You’ll come around once this war is finished. After all, if you want House Varrir’s continued support, Orith does need a match–”
A hand clamped down on either arm as Xannirin and Rapp sensed my infamous temper about to explode. How dare he insinuate that he’d pull what little support he offered for the sake of his own ambition. We didn’t need him if that was how he decided to play this political game.
“You know, Nayúr, if you’re looking for a Hadvezér to wed your daughter, I am available,”
Rapp said from beside me, sporting a wicked grin. He made a show of looking down the table for the female, licking his lips appreciatively when he found her. As if she sensed our attention on her—or rather that she’d had her attention on us, waiting for this moment—she batted her lashes in our direction, the flimsy fabric covering her shoulders dropping away and revealing more skin than necessary.
Ollmond coughed, clearly taken aback by the forward offer. Xannirin and Rapp’s hands retreated, though the latter braced his forearms on the table and leaned in conspiratorially. “Rumor has it that Kormánzó Ergad is about to have his fourth child. I’d love to get a head start on life after the war, earn a bit more of the Kral’s favor since my position as Hadvezér will be all but useless.”
Rapp was a true friend, throwing Ollmond off like this, and a better courtier than I would ever be. With bated breath, I waited for the male’s response to Rapp’s offer.
Rapp’s sexual appetites were as varied as my own, and so long as Orith didn’t mind another male or female joining them while they coupled, she’d be fine in Rapp’s hands. Wealth, power, and sex ruled everything in this world, and all the worlds beyond. The rules were different for those of us at the upper echelons of society, even more so for the Kral’s inner circle. Rapp would see to it that Orith kept her mouth so full she couldn’t tell another soul.
Finally, Ollmond recovered. “Your offer is…very generous, Hadvezér Rapp. I shall think on it and return with an answer for you.”
I didn’t hide my derisive snort at his nonanswer. Of course, Rapp didn’t have enough noble blood for Ollmond. Rapp’s burgundy eyes didn’t come from his father’s lineage; it was gifted from the Giver, and he used it to escape his abusive parents and make a name for himself.
Servants carrying bowls of soup saved us from any further comment on the matter. The clear broth steamed into my nostrils, carrying a salty, spicy scent that made my mouth water.
“Your cooks are far superior to the ones on the front, My Kral,”
I said, hoping to appease my cousin for my near-outburst.
All these centuries of life, and I still didn’t have my temper under control.
Xannirin’s pinched expression smoothed, and he slipped his spoon into his mouth. “The finest in all of Keleti,”
he affirmed after savoring the soup.
After that, Rapp engaged the head of House Tiris in conversation, while Xannirin and I spoke with Sorn about the Angel’s advances into his territory and possible movements we could make. After all, he knew the land better than me, and I was humble enough to listen when the information would help my efforts.
More courses appeared, more alcohol flowed, and once the final had been served, Xannirin called for dancing. I caught Rapp by the shoulder as everyone pushed away from the tables. “You don’t have to marry Orith, you know.”
His eyes glittered and a corner of his mouth twitched up. “I know. But watching her squirm would be so much fun. Let’s dance, and maybe later we can convince Xannirin to call upon his premier for us.”
“So long as we leave this fucking party sooner rather than later, I don’t care,”
I commented, following him through the throng toward the dance floor.
Rapp and I were the biggest males in the room, and the sea of bodies parting was born more from fear than respect. Spotting Kiira, I grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the center.
The veil that covered her face couldn’t hide the vibrancy in her eyes as I tugged her into the starting position. “You can’t only dance with me at these events, you know,”
she teased as we flattened our palms against each other and spun in a slow circle.
We switched directions, her dress fluttering around her legs. “Approaching anyone else would make me appear weak.”
I tried and failed to keep the annoyance from my tone.
She rolled her eyes, backing away from me. “And no one will approach you because they fear what you’ll do.”
We wove between a nearby couple before reuniting again. “I am glad you understand the situation, Kiira. I was beginning to worry you’d lost your sharpness.”
Fates, why is everyone trying to get me to loosen up? Why don’t they understand what’s at stake if my plan fails?
I had no time for female companionship or to waste my energy on courting one. I had one, singular, essential goal—win this fucking war. While everyone else got to fuck around in Gyor Palace, having parties with delicacies piled their plates, sleeping in comfortable beds at night with both eyes closed, I was out there, fighting, strategizing, ensuring that we exterminated the Angels before they could exterminate us.
Moments like these allowed the few resentments I held to creep in. I blasted them out of my mind. I’d worked too hard to get where I was to let bitterness ruin what I loved—power and killing.
Kiira tipped her head back and laughed as our hands joined again. “My claws are sharp enough to rip your massive prick from between your thighs, cousin.”
Her head snapped forward and she leveled a slashing gaze on me. “Don’t forget that.”
I snorted, “I won’t anytime soon.”
She flashed me a winning grin. “Good.”
We executed the next switch and weave through without speaking, focused on the dance instead. After the third, we switched partners, and I paired with a distant relation to Sorn, who kept her eyes downcast our entire dance. Rapp swept by with Orith, shooting me a wink. I moved on to my next partner, who was the daughter of a wine trader in Uzhhorod.
“Halálhívó, is it true what they say about the Angel’s advance?”
she asked, the sheer veil covering her face whispering as I spun her.
“And what is it that they are saying?”
I groused, forcing myself to soften the harsh tone that wanted to snap free.
“That the Angels will be on our doorstep within weeks and the reason you retreated was because you are going to make your final stand here. Many of my father’s associates are considering a move south,”
she said as we flattened palms and circled each other.
“No,”
I growled, and she blanched. “And you can tell anyone who dares to speak such falsities to come to me directly.”
“Yes, Halálhívó,”
she replied, scurrying onto her next partner. Fuck, if the wealthy of Uzhhorod thought they needed to go south…
The rest of the evening passed in a blur as my mind whirled. I etched the most neutral expression I could on my face, appeasing my cousin and hoping that I’d behaved well enough to convince the nobles that the war effort was worth everything we were asking them to forego in favor of the possibilities of the future.
By the time I returned to Grem and Zeec later that evening, bitterness coated my tongue in a thick, fuzzy blanket. The hypocrisy of these nobles was astounding, and that they cared so much for their precious positions in the capital while thousands died to allow them to sleep comfortably in their beds at night made me want to slap sense into all of them.
I drained four glasses of scale before my anger fled enough that I could fall into a fitful sleep. The entire time, burgundy eyes burned into me.