Tortured Royals (Game of Psychos #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

~ Princess Blake ~

A circle of red fire burns in the distance, the crimson flames barely visible amidst the plumes of smoke curling up from the piles of rubble. The portal is exactly where the demon soldier, Sebastian, instructed, the gateway nestled between the remnants of two Perstalian buildings that are still smouldering. Or at least, they used to be buildings. Now, they’re nothing more than large piles of blackened stone. Flakes of ash rain down around us, collecting on my eyelashes, and I swipe my hand across my eyes.

“Collect the other soldiers,” I order Sebastian. “And follow us to Toralyn.” I figure Dad left the demon guards here for me, so I may as well make use of them.

The demon soldier slams his fist to his chest and rigidly bows before hurrying off. I don’t pause to see where he’s headed. I simply stride straight for the gateway, not waiting for my mates.

“You sure this is a good idea, gorgeous?” Nate, my shifter mate, asks from close behind me.

I ignore him, not missing a step.

“Blake,” Shade says, and my crow friend’s voice is uncertain as she shifts uncomfortably on my shoulder, hopping from one foot to the other. “Let’s hold on a sec. We don’t know what’s waiting for us in the angel realm.”

I still don’t stop. “Dad left the portal open for me. He’s expecting me to join him.” I’m sure Shade realizes the demon king isn’t the only reason I’m going. When Sebastian told us the witches were attacking Toralyn, the look of panic and fury on Prince Callan’s face was enough to spur me into action, desperate to grab my blades and get to work.

The archangel catches up to me in a few strides, and he walks directly beside me, his expression hard. If I hesitate, I know he’ll go without me. If I hesitate, I could lose my mate. If I hesitate, the witches might conquer the angels and take the demon king down. And the demon realm could be next.

It’s not until I’m close to the gateway that there’s a split second when I doubt my decision. I’ve never been to Toralyn. My angel mother abandoned me soon after birth, and I hadn’t wanted anything to do with her kind. I’d purposely let myself ignore everything about the realm of the angels aside from the basics I was forced to learn during my schooling. A foolish mistake that won’t serve me well now. Not that the angels ever reached out to connect with me.

Forcing myself to ignore the twisting, churning sensation in my stomach, I draw my daggers and step into the portal.

Magic sizzles against my skin, the colors around me a blur of black and red, and then Shade and I are through. I lift my blades, preparing for an attack, but I’m surprised to find there’s no one on the other side. Blackened trees surround me in all directions, their scorched branches, thin and shriveled, and an unsettling silence hangs heavy around us. I suck in a sharp breath as a breeze whistles through the forest, and a chill crawls down my spine.

“Uh, Blake, this isn’t exactly how I imagined the realm of the angels,” Blake says in my head. “I thought everything would be gold and shiny, and not…”

“Dead?” I finish for her.

“Exactly.”

My brows knit together as I peer at the delicate blades of grass which are the color of ash beneath my boots. They crumble to dust as I walk forward, moving between the thin, blackened trees.

Prince Callan emerges from the portal behind me, and he lets out a harsh breath as he takes in the scene around us. “No.” The word is a cracked whisper as it leaves his lips, and my heart aches for my mate.

Walking over, he stops before a tree branch and reaches up. As his fingers brush against a blackened leaf, the leaf turns to ash and the fine grains are blown away by the wind.

“This is Eresten, the golden forest,” he mutters, his expression stone-cold as his gaze sweeps the desolate landscape.

The rest of my mates emerge from the portal, and Nate curses as they step away from the gateway. They all have their weapons out in an instant, and their sharp gazes assess the area.

When it’s clear there’s no immediate danger, Dante sheaths his sword. My demon mate walks over, and he runs his hand along a tree trunk. Pulling his hand back, he stares at the black dust on his palm. “What happened here?”

Mason clenches his jaw as his expression darkens. “This looks like the work of witches. It seems Perstalia isn’t the only place to suffer.”

Nate curses again. “So, we’re too late?”

Mason moves to my side, and I can tell my winged centaur mate wants to grab me and pull me closer, but he doesn’t. Everything feels wrong as we stand there in that section of dead wood.

Prince Callan stalks ahead, weaving through the trees to the edge of a nearby cliff. Rays of sunlight make his golden wings glitter as he stands there overlooking the land below, his body rigid.

“We saw what the witches did in Perstalia,” Alaric growls, and my attention goes to my assassin mate. “If this continues, soon all the realms will be suffering.”

This time, Mason sheathes his blade and reaches for me, his hand winding around my waist. His fingers send warmth into me, but I can’t relax, no matter how good his touch feels.

Sorry,” I say to my centaur, a twinge of guilt going through me when I think of all he’s been through. “It looks like I’ve dragged you into another war.”

There’s no regret and only resolve in Mason’s eyes. “The choice to leave The Haven was mine, my mate. For years, I have not lived but have merely survived, tormented by the past. I am glad to be able to fight by your side.”

I give him a small smile as Shade lifts from my shoulder, flapping into the air and flying above the trees.

“Do you think the demon king has returned to Seral?” Alaric asks, crossing his arms.

I shake my head, uncertain. “Maybe. But if he has?—”

At that moment, the wind in the forest changes direction, and my words falter as a low growl rumbles from Nate’s throat.

My head whips toward the shifter. “What is it?”

“Blood,” Nate answers. “It’s faint, but I smell them.”

“Them?” Dante asks, his brows lifting.

“The witches,” Nate replies sharply, his slitted eyes focused on the cliff ahead—at the very spot where Prince Callan had stood moments ago.

“Where’s Callan?” I ask, my heart beginning to race.

Nate steps away from us, and in seconds, he’s shifting. Fur spreads over his skin as his limbs reform and grow in size, his clothes tearing and falling to the ground as he changes into his jaguar form.

My other mates and I share a look.

“Uh, Blake, you might wanna see this,” Shade says in my mind, hovering in the air a short distance from the cliff. “I don’t know if they’re using some kind of cloaking spell or what, but it looks like the witches are still here.”

~ Prince Callan ~

The screams and sounds of battle reach me the moment I step through the cloaking barrier that covers the below township and the surrounding area. The illusion I’d been witnessing melts away, and where I’d previously seen desolate wasteland and a silent, ruined town, now I see buildings that are still half standing and a battle raging. Angels fight on the ground and in the air as witches stream between the buildings on the offensive. Chemical weapons soar through the air, glass orbs and missiles filled with neon liquid shattering as they land on houses and collide with angels causing explosions of feathers and blood.

The cold numbness that had spread over me instantly shatters, and I tighten my grip on my swords. A single moment of indecision goes through me as I peer back at where Blake is speaking with the others. Blake—my Ahalian Touizda. My mate. She shouldn’t be here. I should have told Sebastian, the demon soldier, to take his princess home to Seral. The moment we heard about the witches, I should have insisted I enter the portal alone. But I’m not foolish enough to think she would have left me. I think of the press of her lips against mine, and how she had melted against me back in The Haven. Despite the fact I’ve proven myself unworthy of being her mate countless times, the demon refuses to forsake me. And once again, I find myself turning from her. Because every second I hesitate, more angels die.

I launch into the air, the wind buffeting my wings as I fly away from the cliff. Using my power, I send up a surge of wind to increase my speed, and my gaze sweeps over the battle scene as I draw closer. There must be at least two hundred witches spread around the township, and half as many angels.

I reach the first layer of angels, and they shout out my name when they see me, raising their weapons in a salute.

“Support from the queen has finally come!” A female angel with long blond braids calls out with relief as she releases another steel arrow, sending it flying into a witch’s chest with enough force that the witch is knocked to the ground.

My lips form a hard line, but I don’t have the heart to tell her I came alone. I can only hope I’ll be enough. This is my duty.

“My prince,” someone else calls out, and I turn at the familiar voice. Theon is in the air not far from me, wielding his own bow and arrow. The healer’s face is a welcome sight, but as he stares at me, distracted, a glowing red orb smashes into his left wing. The glass orb shatters on impact and the red acid explodes on him, the chemical quickly burning through his bronze feathers. The rancid smell of scorched flesh finds my nose, and the archangel’s face contorts with pain as he cries out. He flaps his ruined wing trying to keep in the air, but as his wing burns, the archangel falls.

Sheathing my swords, I curse and send out a gust of wind that catches Theon and brings him to the ground a few hundred yards from the conflict. An orb soars past my head, and I snarl, turning my attention to the witches. Using my power, I blow back a row of witches directly below us, sending them crashing into nearby buildings, but some of the witches brace against my magic, chanting and deflecting my power.

Theon breathes heavily when I drop to the ground, landing hard beside him. His face is scrunched with pain, and he leans against a large boulder, his injured wing splayed to the side and acid dripping to the ground.

“My prince,” he wheezes.

“You shouldn’t be fighting,” I tell Theon. “You’re not a warrior, my friend.” Memories of my childhood with Theon flash in my mind. Images of me training with the other archangels for hours until I was bruised and bloody, and of Theon being the only one to help me limp away when the instructor finally declared I’d had enough. Even before he discovered his power of healing, Theon had always been a quiet and peaceful soul who would avoid conflict at all costs. He wasn’t one to fly head-first into battle. His duty was to lead one of the largest healing centers in Toralyn.

Theon tries to move his wounded wing and hisses in pain, though I can already see the membrane of his wing starting to regenerate, albeit much slower than usual for a typical wound.

“That is true,” Theon rasps, “but I felt I owed a debt.”

“A debt?” My brows lower.

He nods once. “There were witches in the Perstalian ruins. We were lucky the demon king arrived to help us fight against them. King Dalton created portals and sent the remaining alphas from the competition to their home realms. I was one of the last to go, but I left him there.”

“As you should have. The demons had it under control.”

Theon’s lips thin. “But when King Dalton arrived in Toralyn not too long after, I had to know why. I followed him to the palace, and through the whispers of servants, I discovered that you and your new mate never made it to the demon realm. The demon king also warned Queen Vespera that the witches planned to attack the angels.”

“So, King Dalton saw the queen,” I say, thinking of my mother in the royal palace.

“Oh yes, he saw her,” Theon confirms, his words labored. “Though, from what I hear she had little interest in listening to him. Not even after the witches attacked Toralyn, appearing in multiple locations at once. Your brothers are already fighting witch assaults at the other cities around the realm.”

I peer at the half-destroyed town not far from us. “And I imagine, this township isn’t high up on the queen’s list of places to protect and preserve.” The queen has never cared much for the township of Sailyn. To the angels it’s a sacred place of rejuvenation and tranquility. Built beside the golden forest, it’s a favored spot angels visit when they wish to escape the city and find peace. The soil in this area is said to contain unique properties that helps cleanse the mind, and angels will come here simply to spend days tending to the land before they return home. Of course, the queen never saw the value in a place like this. Not when the angels could be more useful elsewhere.

“Queen Vespera dismissed the king,” Theon goes on. “She refused his offer of help and declared that it’s an angel matter. When he left the palace, I followed the demon king’s entourage. After Princess Blake helped to free me from the creature in the Perstalian ruins, I felt I owed it to her to see that he left our realm safely.”

“You’re a good archangel, Theon,” I tell him.

Theon shakes his head. “But the demon king didn’t leave. While he was in the city, he encountered an angel from this township. They spoke of witches, and the king made this his next destination. I continued to follow him, and by the time we arrived, the township was already under attack. I sent word to the queen, but no help has come. Either she didn’t send any soldiers or the forces she sent never made it past the cloaking magic before turning back.”

I lean closer to Theon, my mind fixating on something he’s just said. “Wait. You’re telling me, King Dalton is still here?”

“Yes,” Theon replies, and he lifts his hand, pointing weakly to the outskirts on the right side of the town. There, far in the distance, the demon king and a contingent of his guards stand back-to-back. A circle of witches surrounds them, the hooded figures chanting and swaying as power flows from them, encasing the demons. I mutter a curse, thinking of how angry my demon mate will be when she discovers this.

“Stay here,” I order Theon. Standing, I ready myself to launch into the air when a blur of yellow and black bolts past me. Nate growls and hisses, his powerful paws kicking up ash and dirt as he sprints toward the closest witches. Moments later, he’s pouncing, his powerful muscles rippling as he tears into a witch. The jaguar is onto his third witch when Princess Blake, Mason, and Shade fly overhead. The sound of fluttering fills my ears, and hundreds of white doves soar up behind Princess Blake, following her toward the town.

Alaric and Dante are just behind them on the ground. The males sprint past me, wielding their weapons as their boots kick up the dust.

“Looks like your friends are here,” Theon comments with a wry smile.

Without replying, I start forward, catching up with Dante and Alaric. “What are you doing?” I bark out.

Alaric only grunts in response, but Dante’s lips curl upward, his pace not slowing. “Killing the witches, of course,” he answers like I’ve asked a ridiculous question. Then he disappears from sight, using his invisibility power.