Chapter 24
Korithax
Islam the door shut behind me when she’s gone, the echo rattling through the chamber.
My breathing is ragged, and my chest is tight. What the fuck is wrong with me? I rake both hands through my hair, pacing like a caged beast.
The image of her is seared into my mind—branded into my skull with fucking fire.
That gods-damned nightgown. That whisper of silk clinging to every curve like it was fucking painted onto her.
Lush hips, full breasts, and a soft belly I wanted to sink my fucking teeth into like some depraved animal.
She looked like desire itself made flesh.
And when she stood between my legs, my hands holding onto her hips, feeling the softness of her through the silk…
Fuck.
My cock had hardened so fast it was almost painful. I am so fucking glad she hadn’t realised. I’m still hard, the fabric of my trousers biting into me like a punishment, and gods do I deserve it. I snarl and drive my fist into the nearest wall. The obsidian cracks, the stone spiderwebbing.
Pathetic. She’s a mortal. A broken mortal who has barely recovered from nearly putting herself into a grave.
She’s supposed to be a pawn, a tool, nothing more than a contract written with blood.
The Divine Six demanded a bride, and I gave them one.
And that should be the end of it. But it’s not.
Because I keep thinking about the way she looked at me.
Like she truly saw me, not the monster that clawed itself out from the depths of Hell.
I don’t care that her laughter is comparable to sunlight. I don’t care that she’s one of the few beings alive who doesn’t flinch when I touch her. I don’t care that the colour of her blush reminds me of a summer morning.
It does not matter.
I let out another growl that borders on a roar and slam my fist into the stone again.
Pain blooms across my knuckles, and I welcome the sting.
Maybe if I break the bones in my hand, my brain will focus on something other than her.
Because she truly is nothing more than a bargaining chip in a political game I’ve spent lifetimes playing.
I don’t want her, I don’t need her, and I sure as fuck don’t feel anything for her.
I take a deep inhale, shoving the thoughts aside and shift my attention to a much bigger problem than the mortal who is to be my bride. Velentha.
What the fuck is she playing at? Why push Daisy to seek out Maelkar Vyre, the ruler of Noxthrallia? Velentha has always dealt in riddles, but interfering this openly feels dangerous, even for her. Not to mention, I now have an incredibly big journey to plan thanks to her meddling.
Noxthrallia is the furthest realm from Hell that allows open travel.
I can’t just tear through the veils the way I normally would.
Each jump will drain me the further I go.
I need time to replenish between realms, and there are only five other realms with open travel for me to go through, which means I need a plan.
Aran is already awaiting me when I storm into the war room.
“Sire,” he says calmly, nodding his head. “I got your summons.”
“I am to travel to Noxthrallia with Daisy. First to Fjellheim Heights, then Auroras Veil. Solara, Stormravan, Luminaria, and finally… Noxthrallia.”
He pauses, looking at me with weary eyes. “May I ask why, sire?”
“Daisy is going to become immortal. The only person capable of such an act is Maelkar.”
“I assume the Queen is ready to depart?” He asks, not questioning the plan or the idea to turn Daisy immortal.
I frown at him for a beat before responding. “We leave tomorrow.”
Aran whistles low under his breath. “That is no easy trek.”
“I am well aware,” I snap. “Each jump will take its toll. We’ll have to rest between most of the jumps for several hours, maybe even a day.”
Aran nods. “I’ll prepare an endless pack. Clothing, supplies, and currencies for realms. Information too. You’ve not visited some of them in centuries.”
“And the Divine Six?” I ask.
He smirks. “I’ll tell them you went to negotiate a trade deal with Luminaria. That should keep them distracted for a few days.”
I grunt my approval, but my suspicion rises. Why is he not shocked by the quest to turn Daisy immortal? And how did he come up with a plan so quickly to distract the Uppers?
“Also,” Aran says carefully, “I suggest you allow me to send a few soldiers to accompany—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I need every soldier here in case those celestial bastards try something whilst I’m gone.”
Aran bows slightly. “Understood.”
I exhale heavily. “Prepare the bag. Ensure everything is ready.”
“It will be, sire,” Aran says. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, “And for what it’s worth… I think you’re doing the right thing. Velentha has clearly seen something. Perhaps you should trust that.”
I grunt again but say nothing. Did I tell him that this was Velentha’s idea?
I’m almost certain I hadn’t. But with the lack of sleep, and a certain mortal running through my mind, I couldn’t be sure.
I eye him suspiciously as he leaves the war room.
No. I trust Aran with my entire life. I must have slipped it in when I was distracted by the maps that were now strewn across the large table, mapping out each realm and how to navigate them.
The next afternoon arrives far too quickly.
I stand outside Daisy’s chambers, trying not to scowl. The door opens—and every thought, every shred of anger I’ve clung to—evaporates.
Fuck. Me.
Daisy stands there in a deep grey dress that’s tailored to absolute perfection.
The corset is pulled so tightly it showcases every curve—the swell of her hips, the full, perfect shape of her breasts.
The dress ends mid shin, delicate silver ribbons lacing up her calves from the silk flat shoes she wears.
Her bright blonde hair is styled in an ancient Grecian braid, half gathered at the back of her head in small, intricate plaits wound together.
A small silver sword—a hairpin—sits stabbed through the knot, gleaming.
Her ocean eyes are lined lightly, her pouty lips slicked with gloss.
A fucking vision.
Lyvia curtsies beside her, beaming. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, sire?”
I clear my throat harshly. “You may leave, Lyvia.”
She dips another curtsy and vanishes with a mischievous smile. Little devil knows exactly what she has done.
Daisy fidgets under my stare. “I know it’s too much… Lyvia insisted I look more queenly. I can go change if—”
I take her hand and spin her lightly to face me. “You look radiant, little flower,” I murmur, my voice rough as I stare down at her. “I see why you are known as the sun by your mortal friends.”
Her cheeks flame, and it makes a feeling I’m unfamiliar with twist inside me.
I release her abruptly, stepping back, the distance between us feeling cold and wrong.
I can’t afford distractions, despite how much I want to tear that dress from her body.
There are many other women I can fuck, and she will not be one of them.
Bride or not, I refuse to lie with a mortal woman, even once she’s immortal. It’s a line I can’t cross with her.
“Here,” I say, pulling a ring from my jacket. An onyx band crowned with a gleaming ruby, cradled between two serpent heads—each set with tiny, glinting diamond eyes. “This was my mother’s,” I mutter. “You will wear it while we travel. We must appear as any devoted couple would.”
She gasps, staring at the ring. “Korithax… It's beautiful.”
“Yes. It’s yours now. Put it on. We leave immediately.”
She slides the ring onto her finger, and I can’t help but stare, for one dangerous heartbeat, at how perfectly it fits her. Her small, delicate hands wear the ring so perfectly, it almost takes my breath away.
My Queen.
Gods help me.