Tortured Royals (Game of Psychos #3)

Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

~ Princess Blake ~

I t takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and then my jaw slackens. Tall rows of wooden crates fill the room reaching higher than Alaric’s head. It’s silent, and we walk between the crates, following the only clear pathway further into the room.

“This was empty the last time I was here,” I mumble. “There must be hundreds of them.”

Nate moves to a crate sitting on the floor on its own, and he squats, gripping the edge of the wooden box and cracking open the lid. A sharp, acrid scent fills the air, and when the dust settles, we all peer inside.

Dante curses as Nate holds up a glowing green orb. The liquid sloshes in the glass ball, bubbling at the movement before settling again.

“Witch weaponry,” Alaric growls.

“What? What’s going on?” Shade chirps.

“We’ve found crates of weapons,” I explain.

“And a fuck ton of ’em,” Nate adds.

“Looks like Ivar is working with the witches after all,” I say grimly.

Mason moves closer to the open crate, peering at the numerous orbs packaged in tightly.

“If the witches are supplying Ivar with weapons, what are they getting in return?” Dante asks, and I feel him beside me. “Ivar has made it clear he wishes to be king. Why would they support that?”

Nate starts to slide the orb into his pocket.

“What are you doing, Nate?” I hiss. “Put it back.”

The shifter’s hand pauses. “Figure it might come in handy.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “Or it could explode against your chest.”

He shrugs, not looking the least bit concerned. “Nine Lives, remember?”

“Put it back,” Alaric growls, coming up on my other side.

Nate grumbles a protest under his breath and carefully places the orb back in the crate.

“Oh, so you listen to him,” I say incredulously.

“That’s because I know he doesn’t have a soft spot for me like you do,” Nate says to me with a grin.

I shake my head at him, smirking, but my attention is pulled away when the faint murmuring of voices sounds from somewhere in the warehouse. Nate quickly replaces the lid on the crate, and we quietly make our way to the other end of the storage room. There’s an open door that looks out onto the main floor of the warehouse, and I crouch to the side, peering out.

A few yards away, Ivar stands talking with a she-demon I recognize from the Fallon Blade clan. The pretty female beams at the clan leader, tossing her silky charcoal hair over one shoulder. “So, how did it go? Did they all agree to support you?”

Ivar smirks and closes the distance between them. Sliding his hands down her back, he cups her ass and yanks her against him.

“That’s Shandi,” I tell the others. “She’s been sleeping with Ivar for the last few years and slowly improving her place in the clan.” I think of the images my crows used to send me of the pair of them. Ivar wasn’t a gentle lover, and I asked her in secret once, whether she’d prefer to move to a different clan. Shandi had simply laughed in my face and said she’d worked too hard to get where she was. I’d tried to point out that the she-demon would be uprooted the very moment if or when Ivar found his actual fated mate, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Have I ever mentioned that it’s unsettling how much you know about clan business?” Dante drawls.

“It’s my job to know things,” I reply bluntly.

“Let me guess, she’s hopin’ to be queen by his side?” Nate comments dryly.

The idea of Shandi ruling by Ivar’s side makes me scowl.

“Some of the clan leaders were resistant,” Ivar replies to Shandi. “Gloria questioned everything, but I believe they all saw sense in the end.”

“Good,” Shandi beams, a smudge of red lipstick showing on her teeth. “And when the king is taken care of and you reveal you have the witches on your side, they’ll be glad they supported you.” She smiles a creepy smile. “Or they’ll find their true death.”

Ivar’s lips twist into a wicked smile, and the pair start kissing. Shandi makes a show of moaning and rubbing her breasts against his chest, and he squeezes her ass. Just when I think they’re going to fuck right there on the warehouse floor, Ivar pulls back. His dark brows lower. “You’d better go. She’ll be here any minute, and I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

She? I frown, listening intently.

Shandi pouts. “It would be good for her to see you with me. Maybe then she’ll learn her place.”

Ivar gives her a wolfish grin, and he squeezes her ass again. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But you don’t have to worry. The witch has no interest in the throne.”

Shandi still looks reluctant to leave, but the moment a spark of green fire appears in mid-air, not far from Ivar, she shrieks and scurries off to hide in a nearby office.

Turning toward the spark, Ivar smooths his suit and runs his fingers through his hair. The spark grows, green flames bursting to life, and the circle grows bigger. The moment the portal is fully formed, a single cloaked figure steps from the gateway, emerging from between the flames. Distinct tattoos curl around the figure’s fingers and travel up their hands.

My mates and I all tense.

“On time as always,” Ivar says smoothly, bowing his head respectfully. “It is good to see?—”

The witch moves her head, scanning the warehouse before narrowing her gaze on Ivar. “What progress have you made?” she says sharply, not letting him finish.

To his credit, Ivar doesn’t look cowed. He clears his throat and puffs his chest out. “My best spy has infiltrated the royal castle. The demon king is even weaker since his return.”

I clench my jaw.

“And?” The witch prompts. “Did you find it?”

Ivar smiles smugly. “It took some effort, but my spy has discovered a vault far beneath the castle, accessible by a hidden staircase. Unfortunately, he can’t bypass the multiple layers of security and enter the vault, but I think it’s safe to assume that’s it.”

“Good.” The witch nods, looking pleased.

Ivar licks his lips.

“Is there more?”

“My spy mentioned he can feel something coming from the vault. A power of sorts,” Ivar says slowly, like he’s thinking about his next choice of words. “He says there’s a force down there that’s unlike anything he’s felt.”

“A power you say?” The witch asks, though going from her tone she’s not the least bit surprised.

“He says it feels unnatural,” Ivar adds, watching the witch carefully.

The witch snorts. “The only thing that’s unnatural is the fact that it’s locked away in that place. You’ve done well demon.”

Ivar’s smile falters before he stretches out his lips again. “And now that I’ve found it as you asked....”

“Yes, yes, you will have our full support to get you on the throne,” the witch hisses. “We have little desire to rule this land. All we wish for is the return of what belongs to us.”

Ivar’s eyes are bright. “Then it is settled. I have the most influential demon clan leaders on my side, and once you have assassinated the king, we can combine forces and take over the castle. From there, we can?—”

“No.” The word is a cold, crisp command.

Ivar stiffens. “No?”

“If you wish to rule, you will need a clean slate. The clan leaders must be eliminated.”

“Eliminated?” Ivar splutters. “These are some of the most well-respected leaders in Seral.”

“Exactly. You wish to be king, do you not?” the witch questions, a cruel edge to her voice. “Those in power are often unreliable and untrustworthy. We can’t risk any who might oppose us. When you’ve taken care of them, then I’ll send in my assassins.”

“But—” Ivar gapes, looking genuinely surprised. It’s almost comical to watch as I’m not sure what he expected when he decided to ally with a witch. I might have learned the truth about the fall of Perstalia, and King Celzar stealing power from the witches, but any encounter I've had with the witches has shown them to be cunning and cruel.

Green fire erupts from the floor, circling around Ivar, and a squeak comes from the office where Shandi is hiding. Ivar’s eyes shoot wide.

“Kill the clan leaders,” the witch demands, flames billowing behind her. “Loyalty is fickle, and we don’t need any more variables when it comes to this war. My sisters have lost too much.” For the first time, there’s a hint of sadness in the witch’s voice, but it’s gone when she speaks again. “I will be back in a day. Make sure it’s done by then.”

“You don’t understand,” Ivar blurts. “I need their support if I am to be seen as a legitimate king.”

“My support is all you need,” the witch replies, and she tosses something at Ivar.

He fumbles, catching the leather pouch as it hits his chest. “You have been useful, demon, but don’t try my patience. Now that I know the location of the vault, my sisters will want to move quickly. We don’t need your clan leaders getting in our way.”

Ivar unties the string at the top of the pouch and stares at the contents within. “Poison?” His expression hardens.

“It’s undetectable,” the witch says, her lips twisting into a smile.

“And how do you propose I get this to all the clan leaders in such a short time? We finished our meeting not long ago.”

“That’s not my problem,” the witch snarls. “Get creative. Organize a dinner party or an orgy. Whatever you demons like. I don’t care.”

Ivar doesn’t look happy, but I can almost see his mind working as he devises a plan to gather the clan leaders again.

“We should act,” Dante comments. “This might be our only chance to capture a witch alone like this. We could question her and stop Ivar at the same time.”

The witch turns toward the portal. “One day, demon. If it’s not done by then, our agreement is over.” She takes a step toward the circle of fire, and Alaric draws two blades from his belt.

“Leave Ivar to me,” my assassin growls.

“No, wait!” I blurt, but it’s too late. A cry tears from Alaric as he sprints toward Ivar and the witch. In seconds, he’s within four feet of them, but before he can attack, he slams into a magical barrier. A wave of power blows him back, and my assassin is thrown into the air. Snarling, he lands in a crouch.

The witch whips around, pulling an orb with neon pink liquid from her robes, and her lips form an ugly slash across her face. “Who is this?” she rasps.

I start to move, but before I can leave our cover, Dante grabs me with an invisible hand. “Stay here, princess. Don’t reveal your identity. Let us deal with this.”

My heart thuds as I stare at Alaric, but I stay where I am, trusting my demon.

My mates launch forward, but Ivar snatches the orb from the witch and throws it at them.

Leaping into the air, Nate catches the weapon, and the liquid sloshes and bubbles in the glass ball. “Fuck, it’s ticking,” my shifter shouts, eyeing a circular metal disk on one side of the orb. “It’s a bomb!”

Shandi squeals, rushing from the office, and Ivar grabs hold of her. Alaric growls, rushing at the demon again with his blades, but in the span of seconds, the witch has disappeared into the portal. Ivar and Shandi flee after her, and the moment they’re out of sight the portal closes, leaving Alaric to slice at empty air. He curses, spinning back to study the weapon in Nate’s hands.

A steady ticking noise comes from the orb, the sound growing steadily faster.

“Get rid of it!” I shout, running over to him.

Nate pulls back his arm, and he launches the weapon toward the high up windows of the warehouse. The moment the orb is out of his hand, we turn and race toward the front door.

“Shade, get away from the warehouse!” I yell.

“Why, what’s happening?”

“Just move!”

We exit the door as the orb explodes, fire erupting and creating an inferno inside the building. Glass shatters, and a rush of heat crashes into me as my mates and I are thrown high into the air.

I flare out my singed wings, my boots slamming to the ground yards from the warehouse, and Alaric, Mason, Dante, and Nate land around me. Turning, I find Prince Callan behind me with his hands outstretched. Wind whips out over the warehouse, a swirling vortex of air surrounding the flames as more explosions are set off, the fire contained by Prince Callan’s power.

“It’s the weapons in the storage room,” Prince Callan tells me with a look of concentration on his face.

“Keep it contained,” I tell him. “We don’t need this reaching the rest of the city.”

My archangel nods, sweat beading on his brow as he continues directing his power.

Shade flies down from high above, settling onto my shoulder. “Sooo, I’m guessing it didn’t go well in there?”

There’s another burst of light as something else explodes in the warehouse, but the light fades quickly.

Alaric steps up beside me, and I turn my head to my assassin. Anger is etched into every hard line of my mate’s face, and he stares at the warehouse like he wishes Ivar was still in there, burning with the weapons he negotiated for.

I clench my jaw. “I think it’s safe to say, the witches are coming.”