26
What I could only describe as a decadent array of food spread across the wide, polished dining table in Kral Xannirin’s private rooms at Gyor Palace. Exhaustion pulled at my limbs, and yet I was too wired to relax, to rest, to sleep. Rokath eventually returned bearing a fine dress and some under clothes for me, both of which I readily accepted and raced into his bathing chamber to don. My back had healed completely, leaving no trace of the whipping I’d received the night before. The emotional scars? Those would take far longer to heal.
Yet as I’d pulled everything on, I noticed he didn’t give me a veil. Whether it was because he was unaccustomed to being forced to cover his face or because he didn’t know where to source once was a mystery. Regardless, I said nothing when I returned to the living area again.
And now, I sat with the Kral himself, the High Priestess of the Demons, Hadvezér Rapp, and the Halálhívó, my Fates’ damned mate.
Oh, how my life had changed.
Me, a female from the southernmost part of the Demon Realm, who grew up on a farm, now dining with the most powerful Demons in Keleti.
Olrus, I am certainly having an adventure.
The four sets of burgundy eyes stared at me with varying degrees of interest. Hadvezér Rapp, with so much amusement I wasn’t sure how his laughter had ceased earlier. The High Priestess, with so much curiosity I wondered if the Fates had spoken to her about me. Her expression was unencumbered by a veil, which made me all the more curious about these four. The Kral’s gaze was so intense I wanted to squirm in my seat. And finally, there was Rokath, the Halálhívó, who looked at me with so much hate I wanted to leap across the table and claw his eyes out.
At least the feeling was mutual, albeit one that was all too familiar.
My stomach rumbled in the silence, and my cheeks flamed when their eyes flicked to me. I couldn’t help that this food looked better than anything I’d ever eaten, and that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. The High Priestess finally spoke, relieving a hint of the tension woven between the five of us. “What is your name, dear?”
So Rokath hasn’t told them anything yet.
He confirmed my suspicion a moment later when he answered for me. “Assyria. I only want to do this once, which is why we’re all gathered here now.”
A muscle feathered in Rokath’s jaw, and his shoulders pinched ever so slightly higher.
“Assyria is my mate.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I forced myself to remain still, my face impassive, as the others processed the development. The High Priestess gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth. The Kral and Rapp looked unsurprised, which meant they already knew. The female’s head whipped to me, studying me with a new level of curiosity. “Why did they not reveal this to me before?”
she murmured, almost to herself.
Priestess Anara adored the High Priestess, venerating her as much as the soldiers worshiped the Kral and Rokath. She never missed an opportunity to speak of the magic the Giver blessed High Priestess Kiira with—a direct connection to the Fates’ weavings. If she deemed something to be true, no questions were allowed, and no hesitation was given to carry out her orders. She had as much of a hand in my abuse as anyone else.
Clearing his throat, Kral Xannirin stole her attention. “When you came to Rokath and I mid-vision, you spoke of a female with burgundy eyes being essential, though when you returned to us, you didn’t recall that. And then yesterday, you sent a note along with an acolyte who said you’d had a similar vision. I think they were trying to tell you and for some reason, it wasn’t sticking.”
The High Priestess nodded, eyes tipping closed for a moment as she absorbed that information. Watching this exchange was almost like watching a play; I was not an active participant, and yet their entire discussion revolved around me.
My fingers curled into the folds of my dress as I tried to keep my mouth shut. This mate bond affected me as much as—actually more than—the rest of them, and it stung that I was little more than a paltry peasant to them.
“Devious burgundy, specifically,”
Rokath added. “And the reason I discovered Assyria is because she was the wife of Kormánzó Vagach.”
Ever so slightly, he shifted in his seat, fingers twitching toward the knife resting beside his gleaming plate. A tendril of protective rage whispered down our bond.
“Was?”
Xannirin interrupted, scrutinizing me with more curiosity. Then, his eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “You’re his second wife.”
Heat swept up my chest to my cheeks, and I managed to nod. Having the attention of the ruler of all the Demons squarely on my shoulders was unnerving.
Xannirin’s head swung to Rokath. “Was?”
he repeated, brows pinching.
“Assyria killed him,”
he said without any intonation.
My nails bit into my palm. “In self-defense, after he attacked our groundskeeper and me,”
I blurted before any of them got the wrong ideas. “The night before he was set to leave with the army.”
“How did you make it all this way without anyone noticing? There are no females in the army,”
the High Priestess questioned, her head cocking to the side, causing her loose, dark hair to tumble over her shoulder.
My mother’s warning rang loud and clear in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t hide my magic anymore. Bracing myself, I prepared to utter the truth to four people I didn’t know and certainly didn’t trust. Fear constricting my chest, I managed to murmur, “My magic allows me to appear as another person.”
I dropped my head, unable to bear the weight of their judgment.
The room fell so silent, I swore the sound of my erratically beating heart could be heard by all. A gentle nudge down the new mate bond had me lifting my gaze. It collided with the Kral’s immediately with how hard he stared at me.
“Devious burgundy,”
Xannirin mused, running his bejeweled fingers through his beard.
“Assyria impersonated Vagach for a month before she was caught last night by her Százados,”
Rokath explained. He added a few short details about the events that turned my life upside down like he was relaying the current weather. His nonchalance made me want to throw my plate at him.
Once Rokath finished reporting on what occurred, Xannirin returned his attention to me. “Demonstrate your abilities.”
When the Kral asked for something, he received it. Though, it wasn’t so much of an ask as it was a demand. That was the way of males of power. I had no choice but to oblige him and demonstrate exactly what I could do.
So, smothering the tremble in my palms, I closed my eyes and dipped into the well of shadows in my chest. Pulling the tendrils of them around me, I formed the image of the male who had abused me. When I reopened them, Rapp’s jaw had slackened, and Xannirin and the High Priestess shared a similar wide-eyed expression. Rokath gripped the arms of his chair so tightly I thought the wood might splinter, and the murder in his eyes nearly made me release my hold.
How can he feel so strongly about Vagach when he hates me?
“She looks just like him,”
Xannirin murmured, his tone imbued with wonder.
“Too much. I never liked the sleazy fucker and this is only making me want to strangle him,”
Rokath growled, muscles flexing beneath his tight-fitting tunic as he shifted positions. It was strange, though, wearing this form in front of him. Our bond was still there, taught and insistent, but it felt muted in a way, as though by not appearing as me, an essential piece of it was missing.
That would explain why the bond didn’t snap in place during the viewing ceremony. That, and our eyes never locked.
“Indeed.”
I dropped the magic and shot Rokath a glare.
“So you can become anyone?”
Rokath asked, ignoring the heat blasting in his direction.
I lifted one shoulder, then let it drop. “I never tried to master it outside of maintaining Vagach’s appearance this past month. But yes, so long as I can create a clear picture in my mind, I can make the form.”
Xannirin smoothed his hands across his shiny hair, while Rokath drummed his large, calloused fingers across the wood. The two seemed to have a silent conversation, and I looked to the High Priestess and Rapp for any indication as to what they might be considering.
Rapp selected a flaky piece of bread and brought it to his plate, ripping bits of it off and popping them into his mouth. “Maybe her magic is why she is essential. I’ve never seen anything like it. She could study you, Rokath, and then we’d have two Demons to call the dead.”
I opened my mouth to speak, hesitating for only a moment before clarifying. “I can’t take on their magic though. Only their appearance.”
“She’s Rokath’s mate. It must have something to do with that,”
the High Priestess pronounced, reaching for a pair of tongs and scooping eggs onto her plate.
Unable to resist any longer, I took her opening to grab food for myself. Slowly, Kral Xannirin and Rokath did too.
“But why would Rokath need a mate? It’s not like she would help him win any battles if she can’t use his magic too,”
Rapp shot back, teeth raking over a bronze ring in his lip.
I bit down on the words that wanted to crawl up my throat and shoved a forkful of food into my mouth instead.
“Winning battles isn’t the only way to help. She could be a messenger since they can speak mind to mind, or perhaps the Fates want Rokath to have a child to support our cause,”
the High Priestess mused, swirling pink juice around her glass, a faraway look on her face.
Half-chewed eggs spewed from my mouth, and I coughed, trying to dislodge the rest that were stuck in my throat.
As I tried to regain control of myself, Rokath grumbled, “At least on that front, I think Assyria and I are of the same mind.”
The High Priestess waved her hand dismissively. “The Weaver will reveal her chosen path in due time.”
Finally able to breathe again, I managed to grit out, “Can you stop speaking about me as if I’m not here? If that’s what you want to do, I’ll leave. Trust me when I say I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. I’ll just slip away into the night and no one ever has to know any of this ever happened. I’ll return to Stryi, find a farm to work on, and live a simple life like I led prior to my marriage to Vagach.”
At the mention of my dead husband again, Rokath’s jaw tightened. The Kral, however, seemed nonplussed. “You’ve left me with quite the mess to clean up, Assyria. The other noble houses will not appreciate that a member of their own was killed and his murderer will go unpunished. Then, there is the future management of his vidék. With no heirs, the seat remains open. I will have to appoint a new Kormánzó now that I know of Vagach’s demise.”
An icy chill shattered through my veins as the Kral laid his displeasure at my feet. Guilt took residence in my stomach as I realized just how many people’s lives I’d impacted from one split-second decision.
And I’d revealed Olrus’s involvement too. Now, he too would die because of me.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, but I kept my chin defiantly high and accepted the scrutiny the Kral offered me.
“There’s a simple solution here, and I don’t know why you don’t see it,”
Rapp commented, easing back in his chair and regarding us all casually.
“Do enlighten us, Rapp,”
Xannirin drawled, tossing his pastry on his plate and settling in to listen.
“The Vezet? we put to death last night can take all the blame,”
he began. A sob wrenched its way up my throat at the mention of Izgath, but I gritted my teeth and willed it back down. “He killed Vagach, as we heard him admit, and the claim the fallen female made of killing him herself was out of desperation to save her lover.”
“Then the nobles will have their scapegoat, and Rokath will have his secret,”
the Kral finished his logic. That slash in my heart that belonged to Izgath ached with how they were treating the memory of him. Yet I was powerless to do anything to stop their spin.
“Precisely,”
Rapp replied, the mischievous twist to his lips piquing my curiosity about the male. He was not noble, of that I was certain, yet he slotted himself into this group with ease.
“Which brings me to my next point,”
Rokath growled, attention falling over me like a heavy rainstorm. “What to do with her.”
“I am right here, you know. As I said, I’ll leave if you want to act like I’m not,”
I hissed at him, fingers tightening over my fork and knife.
The High Priestess’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. I leveled a glare in her direction too. Her decrees set the status for female Demons, and because of them, Rokath had full control over my life. The blame for the death of my family, Izgath, and my abusive marriage to Vagach rested with her as much as the Kral and the Halálhívó.
She glanced away from me and toward my mate. “She can remain under my care in Varbad Temple. We will give her a new identity so no one has to know where she came from. New devotees arrive by the day, so it would be easy to slip her among them.”
Rokath drew me into his dark, broody aura. “Will you live by Kiira’s rules and never speak of your past?”
Disbelief at her suggestion opened my mouth to retort faster than my brain could tell me to hold my tongue. “Are you serious? The only thing I want less than to be your mate is to be a priestess.”
The High Priestess whipped her head around. “And what is so wrong with being a priestess?”
“As if you’d listen to anything I’d have to say,”
I laughed, shaking my head. The flavor of the decadent food turned bitter across my tongue. “You lead them all. Why don’t you tell me what I should like about it?”
Again, she cocked her head to the side, and the males held their breath, waiting for this battle to play out. “You’d be surprised. I am an adept listener. It’s the only way to call these males out when they are lusting for too much blood.”
Kiira’s tone was icy and her words slithered like a dangerous snake. “So tell me, Assyria, why do you not want to be a priestess?”
“Because I don’t want to abuse people like I was abused,”
I snapped, dropping my dining ware, the clatter against the polished plate pricking my ears. Heat licked its way up my spine and I couldn’t stop the words from spewing out of my mouth. I was fucking tired—from not sleeping, from this constant ache in my tattered heart, from always being treated like I was less than because of what was between my legs. “Because I don’t want to watch other females be assaulted by their unwanted husbands for the sake of more children for the Kral.”
I cut a glare at him, uncaring of the insult to the ruler of the Demons. “Because I don’t want to be trapped somewhere I don’t want to be ever again. I had enough of that at the hands of my abusive husband.”
Kiira and Xannirin, to their credit, kept smooth, unreadable expressions painted on their faces.
“And therein lies my dilemma,”
Rokath growled, bracing his arms on the table and leaning toward me. “You admitted last night you’d rather die than be with me. But I can’t allow you to wander off into the world, vulnerable to attack. So either way, you have to be watched at all times.”
“Yes, because I am your weakness.”
My nails bit into my palms as I braced my forearms and leaned in his direction too. His eyes flicked to my curled lips. “Because everything in this fucking world is about males, with no regard for how that affects us. So I have to surrender my life, again, to some male who doesn’t even want me, all for his protection. Because let’s be honest with one another. You aren’t protecting me. You’re protecting yourself.”
And then, the tears did overflow, cresting over my cheeks and falling against the table with violent splatters. Izgath died protecting me, and Rokath never would.
“As he should,”
Kral Xannirin snapped, slapping the table with enough force that the dining ware jumped. “Without Rokath, we cannot win this war. And if we do not win this war, then we will all die. Do you know the extent of the Angel’s beliefs? Koron Stadiel will not rest until every Demon is dead. So yes, Rokath needs to keep you safe and protected because his life stands in the way of the rest of us being dead too.”
The vehemence in his words slammed into me, sending my selfish thoughts careening. I knew, on an intellectual level, that the Angels wanted that. That they’d do anything to get to that. But to hear the Kral frame the consequences in that way made my rage-filled words fizzle out like smoke captured by the wind.
I’d be sentencing thousands of others to the suffering I experienced day in and day out, until none of us were left to feel at all.
Could I really allow that to happen simply to spite the path that had been woven for me? Deep down, I knew I was better than that. Yet all I wanted was to feel like someone gave a fuck about me in all of this. Clearly, that expectation was far out of the realm of possibility.
Like I was blowing out the flames burning in my chest, I sighed, “Fine. What would you have me do?”
Rokath’s burgundy eyes swept over me as he leaned back, and the entire room seemed to release a breath as we relaxed again. Bracing an elbow against the arm of his chair, he ran two fingers over his lips, thinking. “My conditions are these: you must be guarded at all times, and you must not reveal your true identity, especially that we are mated, to anyone.”
I raised a skeptical brow. “Am I really supposed to believe that you’d let me have any semblance of choice?”
He shrugged, then sipped from his glass of juice.
“Can I return to Stryi?”
I asked, trying to keep the hope from my voice.
“What is left for you there?”
Olrus.
“Family,”
I replied coolly.
“Lying will not win you any favors.”
“Get out of my head!”
“Stryi is relatively safe, given it is across the Graz River from the Angel Realm, and far enough south that you’d really have a fuck up for me to be in danger,”
I commented, though my tone held a sharp, snarky edge.
Rapp barked a laugh. “She has a point there, Rokath.”
Yet, he wore a smug grin that told me he knew Rokath would refuse.
Rokath dropped his drink on the table and used the tips of his fingers to rub his jaw. “No. I don’t trust anyone, especially an untried Kormánzó, with your protection,”
he finally said, reaching for the glass again.
“So, what you’re saying is that Assyria has no choice but to stay with you since you won’t trust anyone else,”
Rapp snorted. His tongue fiddled with the ring in his lip as he leaned back in his chair.
Rokath offered him a side-eyed glare, though it lacked the heat he’d offered me numerous times despite knowing each other for less than a day. “She could remain here, in Uzhhorod, either in Gyor or at Varbad. There are plenty of trained soldiers, and plenty for her to do without putting herself at risk.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “And if I choose to remain at Gyor Palace, what then? I waste away in hiding?”
I’d tasted freedom, and I wasn’t certain I could return to a life like I’d had with Vagach.
“I’m sure we can find something for you to do,”
Kiira offered gently, her earlier iciness seeming to melt away as if she sensed my defeated attitude. A flicker of curiosity crossed my mind. Had she ever felt the same? Trapped beneath these males? Did she force piety and purity on us because that was what they wanted?
Yet she held more power than any other female in the whole realm, even more than those born into noble houses. What did she know of life for a female at the bottom of society? From her lack of veil, it was clear she wasn’t subject to the same rules as us.
Rokath hadn’t offered me one either when he brought me clothing. Did these new rules—or lack thereof—apply to me too?
Bracing my elbows on the table, I cradled my head, pressing my palms into my eyes as I tried to think. This wasn’t what I wanted, wasn’t what I had worked for, wasn’t the life I had hoped for, by any means. But it could be worse. They could be planning my execution. They could lock me in a cell beneath the palace and throw away the key. Rokath was offering me a meager helping of control over my life, and one that involved high access and luxuries I never had before becoming the wife of a Kormánzó—perhaps even more than we had in Stryi.
Lifting my gaze, I scanned the four of them, searching for any glimmer of hope.
But Rokath’s eyes had hardened as he seemed to roll over ideas in his mind.
“I changed my mind. I can’t risk anyone else protecting her. You’re coming with me,”
he growled, and the viciousness in his tone told me there was no room for argument.
I did anyway, because fuck, this was my life too. Just because we were mates didn’t mean I would surrender to his whims without making my needs known. I didn’t know him, and I couldn’t trust him to take care of me. “I’d rather be anywhere else.”
He snorted, and more of that wicked hate flowed down our bond. “Do you not think I feel the same?”
Gritting my teeth, I shoved every ounce of my loathing toward him. “The feeling is clear in both directions, don’t you think?”
A flash of something that looked a lot like desire crossed his eyes, and his jaw tightened. Another wave of emotion flooded me, and I had to work to block it out and remain locked in our stare down.
Rapp shattered it for both of us. “One problem, Rokath. She’s female. By your own rules, we don’t allow them in the army or in the camps.”
His attention snapped to his officer. “I am aware. She can pretend to be a page, as she clearly demonstrated, she does not have to always appear as a female.”
Fuck that.
“I’m kind of tired of being someone other than myself,”
I snapped, rising from the table. My chair scraped back, wobbling with the force of my movements. “It appears I have no choice but to be trapped against my will. But you cannot force me to use my magic to appear as someone else, so I won’t. Take me with you, or leave me here, I don’t care, but I will not bow to this.”
All reason fled my brain. I was just so damn angry about the whole situation. Using my magic would keep Rokath, me, and the entire Demon Realm safer. But at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I threw my dining cloth on my plate, then spun on my heel and stalked toward the door we’d used to enter the room.
“Assyria,”
Rokath barked, his tone laced with threat.
I ignored him and kept walking. Pain speared into me, so acute it robbed me of breath. Its source wasn’t from Rokath or me, but rather the bond itself, as if it had ideas of its own and didn’t want us separated. Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, and I quickened my pace. Before I reached the entryway, Rokath grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. I spun into his chest, landing against the hard planes, and everywhere our skin touched burned. The bond eased, as if it had gotten what it wanted and would relent on its assault.
Rokath stepped back immediately, reacting as though he’d been struck by a snake. Then, pain flared again.
“We are not finished,”
he hissed. “Sit down.”
“Make me,”
I snarled, yanking my wrist from his grip. Again, the bond punished me for breaking contact.
Fuck you, Fates.
Rokath sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily closing his eyes as if he were struggling for control, and Rapp burst into laughter. We both shot him a look sharp enough to kill. Xannirin smothered his own with a juicy slice of melon.
“If that is what you want,”
Rokath groused, and then I was airborne, ass flying high while my face nearly smacked against his backside.
“Put me down!”
I shrieked, banging my fists against the planes of muscle.
He did, roughly, in my seat.
“Rokath,”
the High Priestess chided, “she is your mate! At least treat her with respect.”
“No,”
he growled, stalking back to his own and yanking it roughly. “I don’t have time for this. For her. I have a war to win. I have to keep all of us safe. And I can’t do that if this fucking bond is eating at every ounce of my attention!”
Rokath gripped the arm of his chair with so much force I thought the wood would splinter at any moment. His chest heaved with more, and the way Kiira’s expression softened left me wondering if there was something beneath his words.
If he didn’t have time for me, I didn’t have time to offer him sympathy or pity. If I had to suffer, so did he.
Xannirin dropped his dining ware with a loud clatter, drawing our attention. “This whole situation is getting out of hand too quickly. Rokath, your bond is fresh, which is making you extra grumpy, so maybe you should keep her with you for that alone. I can’t have you barging into Gyor with an inferno of out of control emotion every time Assyria has a bad feeling. Get over yourself and get your head on straight because you do need to win this fucking war. If that means fucking her senseless, then get to it, even if she doesn’t want to.”
“That’s enough!”
Kiira snapped, rising to her feet and planting her hands on the table. “Xannirin, how dare you tell Rokath to rape her. And Rokath,”
the High Priestess vibrated with the force of her fury as she slashed her attention to him. “Get to know your mate. She seems intelligent, and maybe you can figure out why the Weaver chose this path for you both.”
Then, her attention turned to me, a look of sympathy etched onto her face. “Assyria, I am so sorry that you’re in this situation, but Xannirin and Rokath are both right. Our lives depend on Rokath defeating the Angels. I have seen that he will stride through the streets of Sivy carrying the heads of two important Angels, so we know that it is coming. Can you please sacrifice for a little longer?”
For a long moment, I studied her. The tears brimming in her burgundy eyes, the dark circles beneath them. Then the black dress draped over her slender frame and the tension held at the corners of her mouth. Of the four, she seemed the most genuine, and despite my hatred for the priestesses, for this whole situation, she might be my only ally.
Perhaps if I spoke with her, privately, after all the tension had bled from this encounter, I could beg for her help. She seemed to hold sway with her cousins with how they shrank back in their chairs like chastised children. At this point, I wasn’t above manipulating the situation to grasp an ounce of control over it.
“Fine,”
I huffed, crossing my arms. “But I will not pretend to like it, or Rokath, and I still want to be me. I had enough of pretending to be the male who abused me.”
My eyes burned, and I had to blink rapidly to clear them.
She nodded, reaching across the table and squeezing my arm. “Rokath and Rapp will find a way for you.”
The withering look she offered both of them held no room for argument.
“I promise,”
Rapp added quickly. Rokath said nothing, and Rapp threw an orange at him.
He bared his teeth at the Hadvezér. “Fine.”
“Can we eat without further animosity now? I’m starving and this food is a million times better than what we get in camp. I’ll still eat it cold, but I’d rather not. Plus, Rokath and I need to return before we’re missed,”
Rapp complained, drawing a laugh from the High Priestess and Kral Xannirin. The intensity of the moment waned, and Kiira settled in her seat once again.
“Yes, eat, the matter is settled for now,”
the Kral pronounced.
I picked up my fork and shoveled another helping of food into my mouth rather than retort that the matter was very much not settled. Agitation still rolled off Rokath in waves, traveling down our bond. I sent my displeasure right back.
My mate was an enigma. First, an asshole, filled with fiery fury and a desire to make me fear him. Then, he offered me a semblance of choice. The mention of my abuser set him on edge. What was his end goal with all of this? Was he weaving some multi-layered trap? I didn’t trust him, or any of the burgundy-eyed Demons at this table, and I’d be sure to keep my guard up around them all.
Because there was one thing I’d learned time and time again in this life: the only person capable of caring for me was myself.