9. Tempest
9
TEMPEST
W e arrived in a tiny entryway adjacent to the king’s suite.
Guards stood on either side of a nondescript door—a surprise right there. Everything within this castle shouted opulence beyond anything I could imagine. Yet no paintings hung on the wall inside this small room, the tile beneath my feet was a plain tan and unadorned with patterns or creepy mosaic designs, and the walls were painted dingy white.
Not one painting with a writing creature around, either.
Urging me to walk with him with his fingers tight around mine, Vexxion strode toward the door.
Behave, he said.
Did he hear the tension coming through in his voice? I’d already sensed the king scared him but now, I wondered. Had the fear I’d felt back at his estate been directed toward the king, or was it due to his fear that the king would hurt me ?
My emotions flipped from one direction to another so fast I couldn’t keep up. Could I trust Vexxion? Was he still standing beside me with the loyalty and affection I’d found at his mother’s estate, or was this yet another jaunt down a path overgrown with betrayal?
Remain silent, he said as one of the guards opened the door. Don’t fight him, he added as he swept us into the room.
My pulse sped up, a frantic thrum against my wrists. The world around me tightened like a snare, each shadow looming with unseen peril. My throat constricted from the weight of my terror hanging in the air. Icy dread clung to my bones. I felt like I was dancing between fate's jagged teeth.
The sharp contrast between the small room outside the suite and the living room where I now found myself stunned me, the grandeur of it immediately assaulting my senses. So much excess. The walls shimmered with a golden glow, veined in precious metal filigree that pulsed like living beings around paintings of more suffering creatures.
Some paused and watched us pass, the weight of their gazes a heavy drag on my spine. Others continued contorting their bodies as if we weren’t there. Or they were so lost in the craze they no longer saw the world around them.
The floor beneath my shoes was made up of tiles that reflected rainbows in the low light. Despite my terror, I was momentarily captivated.
A soft sound jerked my gaze toward the king sitting on an enormous throne mounted near the left wall on yet another dais. A tall fae man dressed in a silver robe speckled with stars hanging low enough to sweep across his feet hovered nearby, his attention focused on me like a bird of prey with an exposed mouse.
The throne itself was a masterpiece, sculpted from twisted vines encrusted with gemstones of every color imaginable, as if the king had searched the fae realm to find one of each kind. They glinted with an eerie light, haunted flowers among jagged thorns.
The guard shut the door behind us.
Vexxion brought us to a stop in the middle of the room.
The king didn’t look our way; he kept speaking in a low voice with the man dressed in stars. And behind the throne . . .
Madrood must’ve returned to the stable, though the room was big enough for him to fit.
In his place stood cloaked figures.
I swallowed back my cry of horror.
Seven Lieges clustered together, a twisted pack of brutal predators. Though none looked our way, my heart came to a shuddering halt. My fingers scrambled for the sheath and the blade I no longer wore, and stark cold fear burned through my spine.
I was facing more Lieges than I’d killed, let alone seen gathered together in one place. Only a few went on raids to control the dregs. Challenging one was something I would only do when I was at my fittest and with pure undying hatred boiling across my heart.
To take on seven all at once? They’d kill me in a flash and swipe my carcass along the floor to clean up my blood.
Vexxion squeezed my hand. I won’t leave you. I promise.
How could he infuse such certainty into his vow? Neither of us had the power to end this, and I worried that day might never come.
Kill the king in a week’s time? We didn’t stand a chance.
I believe in you. He said it so simply that my pulpy, battered heart just . . . gave way. My walls crashed down, and I struggled to lift them once more. I believe in us , he added.
That’s when tears sprung up in my eyes.
“She’s not wearing a pretty dress.” The king’s snarl ripped across the room. “I don’t see her nipples.” He huffed. “The next time you bring her to me, make her wear something that suits her body better.”
“As you pointed out,” Vexxion drawled, “she’s a rider. These are rider’s leathers. I think they suit her quite well.”
“Put her in the chair.” Turning, he continued his conversation in a low voice with the robed man while the Lieges flanking the throne remained motionless.
He did command them. I wasn’t sure why I’d ever doubted that.
“Sit in the chair.” Vexxion pointed to one parked in front of the fireplace.
He’d had a lifetime to perfect his expression, his voice, his every action, while I was a paltry apprentice in a game I had almost no hope of winning. But I wasn’t giving up yet. Vexxion’s words had solidified something inside me, as if he’d cloaked me in a blanket of his warmth, his confidence, his belief that right would prevail as long as we tried.
I sucked in a breath and walked away from him, keeping my gaze on the floor and my face as neutral as his.
The simple, light brown wooden chair had been placed in front of the fireplace flanked with plush sofas and large, squishy-appearing chairs. A low table took up the space in front of the deep blue sofas, and on the gleaming tile surface, I spied the game Wraithweave. This version appeared similar to the one Vexxion and I had played back at his mother’s estate—yet it was also different. Instead of the usual gameboard resembling a map of a fictitious country, this one had been crafted to resemble the continent I’d grown up on.
As I approached the chair, I slowed my pace to take in the gray, sandy wasteland on the left, the stretch of mountains dividing it from the surprisingly lush valley. This was Nullen territory, the place where villagers lived and struggled to survive. I studied the thrust of the Xandest Mountain range speckled with fortresses housing riders determined to protect those villages. The jagged stone buildings perched on each peak. Squinting, blurring my vision, I swore I saw tiny riders scurrying about, some training, others mounting dragons before soaring down across the valley on patrol. The mountains marched from the top of the continent to the sea at the bottom, sucked down into the water on each side.
The broad stretch of Nullen territory gave way to the border on the east where the vast fae realm brooded, determined to steal whatever power and territory we Nullens clung to.
A glance out of the corner of my eyes showed the king still speaking with the tall, robed man. Was he an advisor or one of the many minions who’d happily give their lives to protect their king?
Minions. Lieges. Were they one and the same?
I dragged my attention back to the board and slowed to stand beside it, noting the territory of Riftflame in the northeastern section of the continent, plus the island they still controlled offshore.
Vexxion’s inheritance, Weldsbane Court, covered the broad strip of land below Bledmire, with Lydel Court taking up the vast shore beneath. Beneath that and some distance out to sea, I studied the long island covered with a network of thorns. This was all Lydel still controlled, if people turned to stone and covered in a mesh of thorns could be considered controlling anything.
I traced my fingertip across the nest of thorns, expecting one to prick me. Instead, the mesh shimmered. If I’d blinked, I would’ve missed it. I stared, waiting to see if it would do it again, but the mesh appeared as solid and dull as it was before I touched it.
Ivenrail grunted and rose from his throne, his gaze landing on me. He flicked out a finger to the others. “Leave us.”
The Lieges oozed backward, slipping out through a door on the left, behind the throne. The robed man went with them, closing the panel behind him.
Ivenrail sauntered across the room while I walked to the stiff wooden chair and sat. I stared forward blankly like Reyla and Brodine.
“My minions brought me fresh Nullens today,” the king told Vexxion. He rubbed his hands together as if anticipating a glorious, ten-course meal he could gorge himself on until his belly exploded.
He really was draining the energy from every single Nullen the dregs could capture. I wasn’t sure why I’d still held doubts .
Anger boiled up my throat, and it was all I could do to hold it back from spewing. More villagers taken. My knees shook. If only we could protect them all, rescue them all. He had no right to do this.
Vexxion advanced over to stand behind one of the sofas. His steady gaze met mine, his shoulders squared against the lurking shadows. A subtle nod promised protection without a word, as if he was the silent sentinel who’d stand with me no matter what came next. “You’ll dine on the villagers later?”
My throat closed off with pain, but I reminded myself to listen and watch while giving nothing away.
“Yes,” Ivenrail gushed. “I thought your pretty little rider would make the perfect appetizer. Since you’re stingy, I’ll merely whet my appetite with her. I won’t take too much, and I won’t keep her through the night.”
“Get it over with, then.” Vexxion sounded bored. Bored! Yet his eyes flashed with the stars I’d seen so many times at the estate.
How could he maintain such complete control? If I were him, I’d be blasting out with my power, or I’d snatch one of the blades off the wall and race toward the king. I’d slice off Ivenrail’s head, burn his carcass, and be done with him once and for all. Vexxion added a droning sigh. “I have other plans for the evening, and you’re delaying them.”
“If I remember correctly, you used to spend time with Selitta.”
“Selitta meant nothing to me.”
“I thought you two might—”
“So did she. You both thought wrong . ”
“And now she’s disappeared.”
“Strange, isn’t it?” Vexxion drawled. “I wonder where she went.”
Ivenrail’s huff rang out. “Are you meeting up with her sister tonight?” He cackled. “I can see the allure. Delaine has lovely blonde hair. A pleasing figure. If you find no enjoyment in Delaine, don’t kill her. I still find her useful.”
“I wouldn’t dream of killing anyone.”
Ivenrail sent Vexxion a sly smile. “This is why I like you, son. You’re just like me.”
He wasn’t, though. I could see that already. See it with much clearer eyes now that I’d had time to think without letting emotions cloud my mind. He was a master at crafting conversation. He replied as he should, yet he gave away nothing.
He needed to give me lessons in this. I was too rash. Too impulsive. Too mouthy most of the time.
“Her father has warned me,” Ivenrail said. “He won’t tolerate anything happening to his remaining daughter.”
Vexxion’s gaze flicked to the door the others had left through. “Since when do you worry about warnings from your loyal high advisor?”
The star-cloaked man was Selitta and Delaine’s father? High Advisor. Another person who’d be eager to thrust a dagger through my heart.
“I trust no one,” Ivenrail said. “Not even you, loyal son.”
Vexxion flashed him a gruesome smile. “Wise, as always.”
Ivenrail huffed. “Don’t try to flatter me.”
“I can’t imagine bothering.” Only the flex of Vexxion’s jawline gave him away. That and the sharp glance he sent me .
Taking the cue, I made my body relax, made my fingers uncoil from the fists on my thighs. I placed my arms at my sides, allowing them to dangle. I directed my attention at the far wall, cringing when I spied a painting holding a sky full of tiny twitching dragons.
Will said they were trapped creatures who’d displeased someone, and the king made them suffer.
Ivenrail faced me, his smile turning slick.
“Leave us,” he snapped to Vexxion.
Without even a glance my way, Vexxion flitted from the room.
I held back my gulp. While I wasn’t sure I could trust him, I was confident he wouldn’t allow me to be fully drained if only because I’d be no use to him if I was. He needed me, and that should feed me reassurance.
Instead, my hands trembled against my sides.
Vexxion reappeared, sitting on the sofa in front of the game with his silver threads encasing his entire body. His gaze met mine, and I read confidence there. He wasn’t worried about this, though I wasn’t sure why.
I also read longing in his eyes, but I dismissed that. Even if I dared let it sink through my skin and glide across my heart, this wasn’t the time.
Vines erupted from the floor and lashed me into place, binding my arms to my sides and my legs to the chair. Others snapped around my neck, jerking my head back to smack it against the hard wooden back of the chair.
The king’s finger lazily rose, and he pressed it against the place on my forehead where Vexxion had marked me inside the cave. The mark had disappeared after the Claiming, but the king must still see it.
Ivenrail’s tight smile loosened, and a dreamy expression took over his face.
I girded myself, waiting for the pain of his draining to begin. While horror slashed through me at the thought, I was going to allow this to happen. Although, I didn’t have much choice, not now that I was pinned to a chair inside the king’s living area.
I also expected to feel power leaching from me, to see the level of my well drop.
Instead, I felt nothing. No pain. No sucking feeling. No writhing beasts ravaging around inside me, trying to steal everything that made up me.
The top of my well remained smooth, a golden glow of pure power.
Vexxion’s hands splayed out at his sides. Creases appeared on his face, and when he lifted his gaze to meet mine again, I found endless torture there.
That’s when I couldn’t suck in a breath past the pain stabbing through my chest.
He’d done this for a long time.
“You have a similar flavor to the others,” the king told me in a lighthearted voice. “Rich, though. Only a touch sweeter than most. I can see why the commander brought you to my attention. Your power is more vibrant than other Nullens.”
Did every fortress commander report powerful Nullens to the fae king? If they wanted their own personal carafe of energy to sip from, they must be eagerly handing over Nullens like me. My commander got greedy, or he’d still be sitting inside his office, savoring a taste of Nullen energy each evening while sending the rest of us after dregs during the day.
I hadn’t followed up on any of the Nullens returned to villages after raids. What happened to them? We left them, but did someone—a commander’s staff member—come behind us and scoop them back up? Dazed, they wouldn’t fight. They’d allow themselves to be completely drained by whoever took them.
Vexxion’s jaw twitched.
“Yes, lovely. Just a touch more,” Ivenrail crooned. “Then I promise I’ll leave the rest for my son.” Tipping his head back, he cackled. “I love how the spell takes hold and Nullens know nothing. Hear nothing. They allow us to do whatever we please.”
That wasn’t true. I was completely aware of everything, and I still felt no drain on my brimming well of power.
Because . . .
The king wasn’t drinking from me.
Each time he thought he was draining someone; he was instead devouring Vexxion.