Chapter 15 #3
I was the one who begged my father to let him join his brigade of soldiers at such a young age. It was because of me that he’d even had a shot to climb the ranks so ruthlessly, landing himself the position of commander at the age of twenty-one.
He was most skilled at sword and strategy, but somewhere along the way, he’d abandoned himself to become my father’s lackey. This just proved it further.
“I’m forever grateful, Lucc,” I said, forcing a reassuring smile, stepping back to pin the door against the wall. “Come in.”
Feloré was clutching his chain in his hands, eyeing the servants as they bustled into the room, the last one pushing a cart upon which three metal domes sat.
Without speaking, they began preparing my desk, covering it in a white tablecloth and arranging it with food.
One even brought a bit of flowers in a vase as if this was teatime and not an enslaved human awaiting slaughter.
“I don’t know how you’re doing it,” Lucc said, huddled close by my side as we watched the servants work.
“How I’m doing what?”
“How you’re not losing your mind.”
I followed his line of sight. It was glued to Feloré. Even with him no longer dressed in the slinky silver outfit, he still shone impossibly bright.
I swabbed a hand over my face. I’d told Lucc just enough to keep him innocent if ever questioned by my father, but it felt insane to say with a straight face, “Piece of cake. This is not the one.”
“Not ‘the one’,” he repeated vacantly, like he was turning the phrase over in his mind. “Well, I guess that’s good, since your father kidnapped him.”
Feloré glanced over at us from the corner of his eye, rightfully suspicious.
“Oh, I wish I could say I had your control, Prince,” Lucc continued, his fingers starting to tremble as he gazed straight ahead at Feloré. “But I fear I would just get so unbelievably hungry.”
If he only knew how much my mouth was watering right now.
“So, what happens when the two weeks are up?” he asked. “You think your father will really leave you to make your own decisions? For how long?”
My eyes flared wide for a tick. I struggled to think that far. Two weeks was a fucking eternity to be in this room with this human.
But I could do it. Then it wouldn’t matter what nonsense my father tried to pull because the moment I was freed, I would be gone from this place.
“I don’t know, but I need you to do me a favor,” I said. “I need you to deliver a message for me.”
“Of course.” He perked up. “Anything at all.”
“I need you to find Amara, and tell her—”
“Oh, gods.”
“—that I will come see her as soon as I can, and to be ready. She’ll know what it means.”
He bounced a little, mewing. “You know I’ll do it, Prince. I’ll do anything for you, but Amara hates me. It’s really difficult to interact with someone who hates you so terribly.”
“She doesn’t hate you, Lucc,” I scoffed, but it quickly transformed into a sober nod. “No, she does. She definitely does.”
He groaned.
“But you shouldn’t take it personally. She hates everybody, and…” I trailed off as I thought about it. “Well, I suppose she does hate you a little more than everyone else, doesn’t she?”
“I’m pretty sure she smells my fear,” he said, gazing into the distance. “The way a piranha smells blood.”
He wasn’t wrong. She was delightfully scary. It was how she’d landed her position as my right-hand.
Female vultae were highly incentivized to bear children. They were given high-powered positions, allowed to hoard as many humans as they wished, and encouraged to marry as many times as they wanted which often generated wealth for them. Not that they wanted husbands.
Something was so backward about our species such that sex between us was anything but pleasurable.
I’d heard tales from many vultae that fucking another one was excruciatingly painful, like it was too much of the same blistering energy at once.
That it stung and burned, and you were lucky if you walked straight for a week.
Which made procreation difficult, to say the least.
Our pleasure was eating. Our pleasure was humans.
Amara had turned down all the high-powered positions that came with childbearing in order to join the royal infantry.
I’d known she and I were destined for greater things when I caught her stealing a frying pan from the kitchen to melt down and forge into weaponry.
She was a brilliant ironsmith and smart as a whip.
She also had a fun little anarchy streak that I rather enjoyed, but more importantly, I trusted her.
She was how I’d discovered my very unorthodox medicine man—the one who formulated me the herbs to prevent me from twitching. The one who was going to transform my body. We were on the cusp of a breakthrough. I could fucking feel it.
“Tell her to be ready,” I said, swallowing the water pooled in my mouth as I eyed Feloré. “We ride the minute I’m free of this dilemma.”
Of this torture.
“At once, my prince.” He bowed. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes.” I flashed a smile. “You can mind your balls when you speak to her.”
He glanced at my gory side then tipped his chin to Feloré. “Looks like you can do the same.”