Chapter 7 The King’s Command
The King’s Command
Kai
It’s deep into the early hours of the morning, the sun is beginning to rise outside, and I stand over the bed, my eyes raking over the woman lying there, admiring how beautiful she looks.
My training tells me I should kill her… but my instinct is telling me to claim her.
I ghost my finger over her thigh, brushing the hem of her shirt ever so slightly.
Knowing she’s wearing nothing beneath it makes my cock twitch with desire.
How long will I be able to deny myself her, when all I want is to spread her legs and bury myself so deep inside her that she screams my name for mercy?
I trail my fingers over her hip, up between her breasts, pausing when she moans softly, turning onto her back, and my gaze dips between her thighs.
What does she taste like?
Smirking, I wrap my hand around her neck as I lean closer and press my lips against hers. Pleasure and a carnal hunger I’ve never felt before consume me, the feel and taste of her driving me insane. I move back, twirling a strand of her dark hair around my finger and smirk.
Morcant’s supporter or not, she’s made for me, and I’m not about to let her go.
And if she tries to defy me, I’ll break her into submission.
I step away from her and comb my fingers through my hair.
You really don’t know the monster you’ve been bonded to…
She’s the enemy, someone who sides with Morcant, not us. I didn’t miss the way she reacted when she saw me in the bathroom. I know she saw my tattoos. She wore an expression as if she had never seen a monster worse than me. The disgust and hatred not only angered me but hit something deeper…
Turning, I leave the room and shut the door behind me.
I couldn’t sleep all night knowing my mate was in that room, knowing that she hates me.
Who is she?
That is the question that keeps replaying in my mind. That and knowing that if Varkhazan found out about her, she would be in grave danger.
On Earth, our magic feels different, and the rules of Barazeth, Alvazakh and Varindor are that no one is to use their magic openly in front of humans to avoid the risk of them finding our realms. Shifters will only go there in human form, and those who aren’t shifters use glamours to disguise themselves from any telltale signs of us not being human.
For those who can’t perform glamours, glamour potions are easy to buy from vendors at one of the realm entrances.
But she isn’t human… Maybe she’s fae? Or some other kind of shifter?
I massage my temples as I sit back and close my eyes, remembering the audience with the King that ruined everything…
The sun shines across the wooden floors.
The carved pillars that line the throne room cast long shadows across it.
The King’s castle sits high above the rest of the kingdom.
Branches from the huge trees that surround this place hang low, brushing across the balcony edge, and I can hear the beating wings of the King’s guards as they patrol outside.
I wait on one knee for the King of the Sky Sirens to speak.
“Arise,” he commands, and I stand tall, feet apart, arms clasped behind my back, shoulders square, wings spread, and head held up high.
I don’t know why he’s called me; a meeting with the King himself seldom means anything good.
I am one of the best knights he has, and my reputation is well known by everyone in the three realms ruled by King Varkhazan.
“My King,” I say, lowering my head slightly as I speak, but keeping my eyes fixed on King Varkhazan, who sits on his jewel-encrusted, wooden throne, designed to accommodate his vast black and grey wings.
He’s a middle-aged man. In the human realm, one would think he’s in his early fifties, but King Varkhazan is over five hundred years old.
He combs his fingers through his salt and pepper beard that reaches his chest, as he observes me with those dark, beady eyes. Scars cover his torso, some covered by the tattoos that litter his body, others proudly on display.
This is the man who conquered the skies across three realms: Barazeth, Alvazakh and Varindor before he even turned two hundred years old. A man as cruel as he is smart and powerful.
“I know you have a lot on your plate, being the heir to the Dukedom of House Kaldor and the Commander of my Western Army.”
Of course I do, what with him waging war on every kingdom within the three realms. Either you pledge your allegiance to Varkhazan, or you are slaughtered, and I am one of his deadliest weapons, the executioner if you defy the King’s commands.
“Not at all, I always have time to come see you, My King,” I reply as expected.
His eyes crinkle in a mirthless smile as he sits forward, his wings brushing the floor.
“Your words would please me if it weren’t for the news I bear.” He sighs as he looks to the sky outside the throne room. I remain silent, waiting for him to continue. “I have lost Varindor. The uprising continues to grow, and the majority of my men stationed there have been slaughtered.”
I stiffen.
We lost Varindor? How? Varkhazan had thousands of his men posted there.
“See!” He laughs raucously, looking at me. “That face… that face! I had the same question. How is it possible?”
“Have scouts been sent to see what is happening? Or are there any survivors?” I ask, my voice devoid of emotion.
“The only knowledge we have is a letter that barely made it to Earth. It was half-destroyed. All I know is that the sea sirens are behind this.”
Disgust and hatred wash through me at the mention of those vile creatures. As far back as we can remember, the sea sirens have been a thorn in our sides.
It was a sea siren who lured my mother to her doom.
And I avenged her by destroying the entire tribe.
That was the first blood I spilt, wondering if they bled like we did.
They do unless they are near water, where they can become seafoam and return to the ocean.
I made sure that any I killed never had that honour, leaving their bodies to rot on dry land and allowing their scales and bones to be plundered.
There are barely any sea sirens left in Alvazakh.
“Sea sirens…”
No matter if it’s Barazeth, Alvazakh or Varindor, the sea sirens couldn’t have done it alone.
“Yes, the King of Elmeria, to be precise. Those vile sea folk need to be eliminated once and for all. You, Keiran the Storm Slayer, are to go to the realm of Varindor and find me the traitor, and I will gift you a status that you could only ever dream of.”
“I need no status, but just to serve. I am your sword above all else. I will not only find the traitor, but I will also reconquer Varindor and return only when I have victory,” I vow.
Varkhazan smiles coldly. “That is what I want to hear. Then I, your King, vow that if you succeed in your conquest, I will give you the stewardship to rule in Varindor in my stead.”
Rule in Varindor?
“That is a great honour, My King.” I lower my head, my wings almost golden in the brilliant rays of the sun that is beginning to dip beyond the horizon.
“There is one more honour I will bestow upon you. Perhaps you will see it as an incentive to work swiftly.” He grins, this time baring his teeth, as he waves a tanned hand, and the doors behind me open.
I hear two pairs of footsteps, one light, one heavier.
I recognise the second, my mood souring. My father’s. What is he doing here?
I remain facing forward as my father, Duke Izard of House Kaldor, stops beside me.
Where my wings start with black, fading into brown feathers that blend out to gold, his start in deep brown, fading into white.
He, like myself and the King, wears only pants and boots.
I’m glad that the resemblance between us is minimal, with us only sharing our golden eyes, a shade unique to House Kaldor.
My dark brown, curly hair is nothing like his.
His companion walks over to the King, offering him her hand.
Her wings are a lighter grey than the King’s.
She wears the style of clothing belonging to the nobles of Alvazakh: a slinky fabric that drapes over her breasts and a skirt that has two slits down the side, with dainty, jewelled sandals on her feet.
Her long, light brown hair is braided, a crown sitting above her head.
Princess Varina is the younger sister of King Varkhazan. My stomach shifts with unease as she smiles under my gaze, and I lower my head in respect.
“This shall be your prize, your bride to take upon return!”
Fuck. No.
I didn’t want to be tied to some noblewoman my father or someone else chose. One glance at him makes my stomach coil in disgust. He was one of the King’s greatest confidants, and, clearly, he pushed the idea, wanting power for himself and the name of Kaldor. Not once did he ask what I wanted.
“What do you say?” The King brings me from my thoughts, and I lower my head.
“It would be the greatest… honour.” I force the words out. After all, in the King’s Court, no one else has a say.
“Then you leave at dawn! Pack light, and remember, until this is done, you shall not return. Relay any messages to me via our connections on Earth. Stay a week or so there, make sure you are not followed, and then plan your entrance into Varindor safely. Varindor must be reconquered, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, My King.”
I stand tall and turn on my heel, striding to the door. One thing is for certain: I will welcome the change.
I return to my room at the castle, packing my belongings. I’m no stranger to Earth. I spent a few years there studying their ways. For a human, it’s a good tenth of their lifespan, but for me, it was just a handful of years.
We never learned how Varkhazan found the tear in the veil that allowed our kind to enter the mortal realm, or how he found the other two realms and dictated his control over them.
Earth was not one he was interested in. It contained nothing of desire, and it was just the gateway between the realms for him.
But for me, there are small moments when I observe the humans that feel peaceful, removed from the cruelty of Alvazakh and its people. On Earth, I’m just one of many, not a killer whose presence everyone fears.
“Garren, find Jorah and tell him I request to meet him tonight as I’ll be leaving before the morning light.”
“Yes, sir!” Garren, a young sky siren, replies, bowing low before he unfurls his wings and takes flight.
I start filling my bag, taking only what I need.
I glance towards the bedroom and stand up silently, making my way over to it.
Opening the door, I fold my arms and stare at the woman I left bound.
Her shirt has risen up, revealing her sexy booty that makes something inside of me stir.
She’s lying uncomfortably on her side, her hair trailing off the bed.
She’s from Varindor, and one of Morcant’s followers… She’s beautiful enough to be one of them – no, I won’t think that. My stomach churns at the thought, and I remind myself they are known for their pale hair, while hers is dark.
But I could use her to get what I want, to complete the mission I’ve been given. The question is, will she obey?