Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Everyone knows brownies aren’t afraid to fuck monsters. Ironically, they are the only things yondus (sex-obsessed monsters) avoid.
If she asks me about my exes, I still don’t think I’m going to ask about hers. - King Richard
She has fucking wasps – as pets.
Seventeen of them.
It’s a good thing she’s going to be executed then because fucking hel, she’s going to be the death of me.
My lips twitch as I walk through the house, but it isn’t in the smile gallows humour normally brings on.
Jace is right. I’m getting too attached – risking my life over the tears of someone on death row.
If I can’t ignore them now, how am I going to ignore them when I’m cutting her open?
The queen or king is responsible for executions, and if they can’t do it, if they can’t prove that their loyalty lies to the kingdom in whatever way it needs, then they’ll be executed too – by the next person in line for the throne.
And Nicholas, despite everyone he’s lost and everything he’s gone through with his own wife, he has still held on to his humanity.
But if he carries out an execution, he will lose it.
I know because that’s how I lost the last ember of my own soul.
I cannot be the reason he loses his – not after I’ve failed him so many times already.
But the idea of backing off now, of not knowing Arienna at all before her death – somehow that seems worse.
A harsh buzz cuts through my thoughts. I hit the release mechanism on the knife strapped to my forearm. It shoots forward smoothly, flawlessly; I grab hold of its hilt before it can pass my hand. Armed, I turn towards the noise and find a wasp the size of my fucking chest.
It’s behind a closed door – but one full of holes, and as it locks eyes with me, it starts squeezing through. Fuck. That is definitely blood all over its face and mandibles.
Popping the lid off the bottle of ambrosia, I pour a splash onto the floor.
The house near vibrates as soon as the sweet scent hits the air.
Thunderous buzzing fills the back of the house and echoes from down the stairs.
The wasp at the door crawls all the way through, and I raise my knife in preparation for a fight to the death.
Ignoring me completely, it lands on the ground and starts to drink. I grip my knife tightly, but it never even looks at me. Keeping one eye on it, I glance around the place.
The bottom floor lies within the stem of her mushroom-shaped house.
It’s hexagonal, with the front door leading into a keyhole hallway with light, washed-out blue tiles on the floor and sun-touched walls of gold.
A dark wooden door sits on both sides of me, set into a delicately carved arch of orange and teal.
The door on my right is made of more holes than material thanks to the wasp that’s crawled through it.
The one on my left doesn’t look much better, and I cautiously peer inside to find a sitting room bathed in the blood of two wasps.
I don’t know how much blood a wasp has, but I can see two corpses, so I reckon that’s about right.
Figuring the monster beside me must’ve killed them, I slowly move out of its way, leaving it to its drink.
At the landing of the stairs, are two more doors behind the spiral staircase.
A lot of buzzing is coming from behind the one on the left, but it doesn’t look too damaged.
It’ll take the wasp time to chew its way through, but if anything’s free on the second floor, then I risk getting ambushed if I don’t deal with them first. So I fly up slowly, the stairs too ruined to use, and listen intently.
The second floor opens out onto a pentagon landing with five doors.
Two of them are as good as gone, but their rooms are also empty; I’m guessing they used to house the wasps that are now dead downstairs.
Moving back to the landing, I go to each of the two doors that have wasps chewing on them from the other side.
I pour them some ambrosia, and their madness ends as soon as they start to drink.
I stop at the third door – the only one without damage. My ears straining, I listen for any sounds within.
Nothing.
I hesitate, deciding if I should kick the door down or if I should risk putting down either my knife or the ambrosia to try the handle.
On one hand, her house is already ruined.
On the other, I don’t want to add to it.
Ignoring Jace’s curse in my head, I trigger the mechanism that slides my knife back in its sheath, then open the door slowly.
I’m ready to slam it shut at a moment’s notice, but when I get it open halfway, I realise there’s nothing in here.
Or rather, no monsters.
And that causes me to laugh in relief. Because this is her bedroom, and my subconscious was playing all these horrid nightmares in the back of my mind given monster fucking isn’t exactly uncommon in Brownston.
And though I know that not every brownie has the same kinks, but she lives with wasps. What was I supposed to think? Who the fuck would want them in their house if they didn’t have a thing for them? What other purpose could they possibly have?
But no. She locked them out of her room. And fucking hel is that a relief.
Making my way down the stairs, I give some ambrosia to the wasp I ignored earlier. Then I head back over to Wasp One. It’s stumbling around even as it continues to drink. Its mandibles twitch back and forth as its fuzzy black antennas move every so often.
How my wife has a heart big enough to care for this ugly thing, I don’t know. I study it for a few more seconds, trying to see what she sees, but nope, it’s still ugly. And its stinger is massive. Forget dying from its venom; it’ll skewer her in half.
Shaking my head, I pour the rest of the bottle out by the door and exit the house.
“How long does it take for the ambrosia to knock them out?” I ask, walking towards her.
“A couple minutes,” she says, worry in her voice and eyes. “You didn’t hurt any of them, did you?”
“No, but a few of them managed to get out and kill each other.”
She pales, and I shake my head. No wonder she came back after how I treated her on our wedding night. She befriends wasps. In comparison, I am a fucking treat.
“Arienna, love!” My blood heats at the sound of a man’s voice saying her name with too much familiarity. Pulling her against my side, I turn to face the obnoxious asshole.
He’s taller than me. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Not a piercing on him. He looks exactly like a man I’d picture her with if I hadn’t already claimed her.
Reaching up to her neck, I brush her hair back, revealing the mark I left on her. My lips. My teeth. My claim. My fingers brush across it, forcing him to notice.
A scowl hides behind his tight smile.
Mine is out on the forefront.
“That’s close enough,” Jace says as he steps between us.
It isn’t close enough. The douche isn’t within punching distance.
I shake the thoughts away. Double down on my control. But then she angles her body towards me. Her hand reaches around my waist, and I know that the two of them have done more than just fuck.
Glancing down, I see it all over her face. She wants to use me to make him jealous.
Which means she still has feelings for him.
Might even love him.
He is not going to see the next sunrise.
“Karl!” My queen gasps his name, her breath heady with nerves. “What are you doing here? I thought you moved to the other side of town. You know, with my mother.”
Her mother? I study him some more. Perhaps he’s older than he looks, and he’s actually her step-father, someone she wants to show me off to? I relax a little, the urge to kill him dwindling.
“Yes, but once I heard all the buzz, I had to come see for myself.” He looks at me, trying to intimidate me but failing. “I see you’ve moved on and so fast too.”
“Fast?” She tries to take a step forward, but I hold her by my side. “You got engaged to my mother while we were still together!” Her voice wavers.
Mine comes out on a growl.
He hurt her.
And so I will hurt him in return.