23. Vexxion
23
VEXXION
D rask didn’t need to alert me; I knew what was happening the moment I flitted inside the dining room and strode toward the table.
A flick of my finger released Horcrest’s spell, and Tempest sucked in a deep breath, sending me a wide-eyed look.
The other guests didn’t appear to notice anything unusual, but even if they had, a few would titter in enjoyment while the rest would calmly go on with whatever they’d been doing. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen something like this multiple times.
Only my Uncle Camus seated to Zayde’s right at the end of the table watched me with amusement in his eyes. He would’ve sat there while Tempest died, perhaps only chuckling when she collapsed onto the table.
Soon, I’d kill him and then I’d be the one laughing.
After all these years, it still stunned me that anyone dared challenge me or the woman under my protection. I’d only been away from court for a short time. I supposed some might see that as a challenge.
No one was allowed to touch my fury.
I couldn’t issue an invitation for a stroll like I had with two fae I’d killed today. The king would arrive soon, and he hated seeing his guests depart at such a time.
My growl rumbled low in my chest.
Horcrest glanced in my direction, and I delighted in watching a pink tinge flood his sharp cheeks. Delighted in watching the smirk begin to fade from Uncle Camus’s face. He had no idea who I was targeting, but he’d soon find out.
When I pointedly looked toward the empty place settings on either side of Horcrest, I took even greater joy in watching that transient, high color drain from his face. Would he leave to seek his twin brother and older sister? If I knew him, and I did well enough for something like this, he was calling out to his brother in his mind.
He would not receive a reply.
I understand the cooks are serving roast brission tonight, I casually told my fury as I padded to an empty chair a few down from hers and sat. I suggest you take a rare piece, though if you prefer your meat medium or even well done, you’ll enjoy that as well.
Thank you.
Guards up.
Always. Her low laugh rang out. I’m rarely a violent person—
No, I breathed, my lips curling upward.
Alright, I’m learning how to be violent. What did you do with the other two?
Do you truly want to know? I asked .
Yes.
I sent her images. I would never lie to her unless I had to and only then to protect her.
They deserved it , she said.
I thought so as well.
What will you do to the one sitting across from me?
The man now studiously avoiding looking your way? The one scrambling to speak with his twin and wishing he could be anywhere inside faerie but here? Watch. Learn.
There’s a lesson in this?
In everything.
The guards at the door announced the king’s arrival, and we all stood, not taking our seats again until he’d been placed in own seat and had waved for us to settle. His gaze scanned the room, and I was sure he noted the missing guests, though he didn’t comment.
The high advisor was noticeably absent tonight, though he didn’t always attend formal functions with the king. As long as he wasn’t getting into things he shouldn’t, I didn’t care what he chose to do instead.
A few of the king’s attendants had slipped into the room behind him and they waited by the wall, Brodine among them. He stared at the floor. At nothing, really. I’d yet to find him alone long enough to probe his mind, though I’d tried when he was among the others, without success. If there was a way to bring him back, I’d find it, though I’d yet to come up with a spell that would work.
Back at the fortress, I hadn’t trusted him, but I’d settled that in my mind as jealousy on my part. He’d wanted Tempest. I’d be a pitiful man if I was jealous of what was left of him now.
“Make that thing leave,” Ivenrail snarled at me.
Send Drask away, I told Tempest.
The bird soared from the room, though I sensed it waited in the sitting area next door rather than flying to our suite.
“Serve,” Ivenrail said, and attendants bustled from the kitchen holding platters full of everything imaginable and then some. They never knew what might appeal to the king’s palate for the upcoming meal, so they prepared everything. Soon, the clink of silverware and sighs of appreciation rang out in the room.
You’re right, the rare brission is amazing, my fury said.
The vegetables are also delicious. Try some.
I believe I shall. She waved for the server to add them to her plate. I’m also enjoying watching the man across from me squirm.
Now there’s my violent storm, churning across a vast plain. I couldn’t hold back my smile.
Seeing it, the man sitting opposite me gulped and lowered his fork to his plate. His gaze flashed around, and I could tell he wanted to flit from the dining room. But no one left before the king—not if they wanted to hold on to their life, that is.
Draped in the sapphire dress I picked for her because she once told me she adored the color of my eyes; Fury stunned me. She was a jewel among thistle-crowned nightmares, and when she glanced my way, even a beast like me could feel something twist inside. I’d been molded into a predator, not one who could deliver tenderness, yet I ached to make sure she never felt even a touch of pain. Until the moment I took my last breath, I’d shield her from every shadow lurking in this wretched realm. I’d crush any threat that dared cast its eyes on what was mine.
Brutality was my second skin, but look how easily she pierced through it without even trying, armed with nothing but a smile and the soft caress of her hand.
Don’t look away , I said. The entertainment’s about to become as delicious as the brission.
Horcrest started gagging.
My uncle lowered his fork onto his plate, though he wisely said nothing. Ivenrail appeared oblivious to what was happening at his dining room table.
The woman sitting two places down on Horcrest’s right kept eating—for a short time. Then her fork paused halfway to her mouth.
When Horcrest keeled forward, his face landing in his partly finished bowl of stew, she dropped her fork and punctuated the clatter with a shriek.
Others amplified the sound, their cries echoing in the dining room while servants rushed around the table to yank Horcrest out of his bowl. Brown liquid dripped down his pale face as his head lolled on his shoulders.
The woman kept shrieking, reeling away from Horcrest until the king lifted his arm. Her screaming didn’t come to a halt because he’d commanded it with the gesture but because he’d cut off her air. Her hands rose to encircle her throat, and if she wasn’t the wife of one of his most loyal high lords, I suspected she’d soon join Horcrest in a similar fate.
With a grumble, he flicked his finger, allowing her to breathe once more. Air jerked in and out of her chest, and she did all she could to remain seated. Madrood wasn’t here to turn her into a pile of ashes, but Ivenrail had other ways of dealing with unruly fae.
Ah, my fury said, and I couldn’t tell what she thought of this public display of my power.
Normally, I prefer to take care of matters like this in a more private manner. It was more that I didn’t like revealing something like this to her. I’d never spared anyone else. But this will do almost as well. I do apologize if you find this unsettling.
You saw me kill how many dregs?
More than I wanted to count. I was proud of her skill with a sword, but I wanted to wrap her in flooferdar blankets and lock her up in a place where nothing and no one could harm her. That world didn’t exist for us. Not yet. Maybe never.
I wanted to protect her from everything, an impossible task here at Bledmire. Not anywhere within faerie or beyond, actually.
I showed you this on purpose, I said, not breathing as I waited to hear what she’d say.
I didn’t want her thanks, though I’d acknowledged it for each and every person I killed to make her safer.
I wanted her acceptance.
She knew the king wasn’t the only person here who’d have to die. I wouldn’t be the one dealing the final blow. If she was going to come out of this with her sanity, she needed to accept that she’d bear new scars.
Death should never be welcome, she said.
In my role here at Bledmire, it often is .
They tried but did not harm me. Many would say those three didn’t deserve to die.
I don’t agree, I said.
I can’t either, not after today, but . . .
She still hesitated, which was why I knew she wasn’t ready. This was the reason I hesitated pushing her to end this. I’d told her we were waiting for the king to claim Brenna, that he’d be at his weakest point right after, but the truth was, we were too weak right now to deal the final blow. Not because my fury wasn’t strong enough to wield the blade but because I wasn’t confident she had the inner strength needed to do so.
And I hated that I had to harden her still, force her into this role that only she was capable of assuming.
Some say death is inevitable, she said. Half the time, I’m surprised I’m still alive.
I’d kept her alive. I’d done so from the moment I realized she existed, that she’d survived long enough to start down the path I’d place her on. We had too little time. Soon, I’d take everything from her and shove her onto the next step of my plan whether she was ready or not. I wanted to wait for her to get there on her own, but I couldn’t.
I’d sacrifice myself if I thought it would make a difference, but I’d never sacrifice her.
All I could do was guide her and hope she’d be ready when the time arrived.
Death is an unwelcome visitor and inescapable here. I was death. It’s indifferent.
You’re not indifferent.
Not with her. Never with her. She was the only person keeping me from falling. I’d clung to that wire stretched across the cavern for a very long time. I’d begun to believe I had no choice but to succumb to my father’s demands, to give in, to allow him to finish molding me into the person he needed me to be—an even worse extension of himself.
This woman had saved me.
If I could mold her into the person she needed to be, then she could save herself.