Chapter 51 #2
“Korithax,” a voice says from the shadows.
I draw my sword in a flash, hellfire erupting in bright blue flame.
“Velentha,” I snarl.
She steps from the shadows with her hands raised. “Wait. Please.”
“You have ten seconds,” I growl.
“I knew she would rise, that she would burn the sky,” she says breathlessly. “I bided my time, Child of Ruin. I had no part in what happened before, but the part I am yet to be involved in… I can only apologise for.”
My grip tightens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Spit it out, Velentha.”
She meets my eyes with sorrow. “I have been the enforcer of fate. I am the key.”
And then she’s gone, disappearing in a whisper of golden light before I can swing for her fucking head. I roar in fury, hurling my sword across the room. It embeds itself in the stone wall with a crack that echoes like thunder.
Everything is falling apart, and I don’t know how to stop it.
I watch the sword quiver where it’s lodged in the stone, its flames flicking upward, then dying entirely.
Silence stretches in the chamber, broken only by the ragged sound of my breathing.
My hands are shaking uncontrollably, the feeling so foreign it makes my anger flare even more.
I press both palms against the table in the centre of the room, trying to steady myself.
The plan from before we left is still strewn across the surface, mapping out each realm, each ruler, each possibility.
Never could I have planned to return with an immortal wife who was the resurrected version of the first Queen of Hell.
I close my eyes, letting the bite of the cold obsidian seep into my hands.
But it doesn’t help. I still feel like I’m unravelling.
My father. My fucking father. He burned her.
Three days in flame, and he stood there while her screams filled the sky.
I grip the edge of the table harder, the veins in my arms straining as I lean forward, my breath coming in shallow pants as I grit my teeth.
I want to scream. I want to tear the walls down. I want to—
The door creaks slightly, but I don’t look up. I don’t need to. I would know Aran’s presence anywhere. The calmness of his aura has always been grounding for me. But right now, I’m not sure anything could help me.
“I need to be alone,” I mutter.
“I know,” Aran says quietly. “But I’m not choosing to listen.” Stubborn bastard.
For a while, neither of us speaks. The silence hangs thick between us, pulsing with my magic and rage.
Without thinking, I speak the words I know I shouldn’t. The words that are boiling so hot under my skin that they’re threatening to burn me alive. “I should kill him.”
Aran shifts behind me. “Korithax…”
“I should carve his heart out and throw it to the flamebeasts.” My voice is dangerously low.
“He murdered her. Lied to me, denied the whispers and the rumours. He raised me like it didn’t fucking happen.
Let me, my people, my kingdom, worship him.
Let us believe he took the throne because he deserved it. Because he was fit to rule.”
“I know,” Aran says gently.
I finally look at him, and I know my eyes are wild. “You knew?”
Something like panic flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can decipher it.
“I didn’t know, I suspected. I heard whispers, but nobody could prove it. And the Divine Six… they’ve had their hands in every truth and lie for thousands of years.” He steps closer. “But I never believed he was innocent.”
I step away from the table, pacing up and down like a crazed animal. My wings snap out behind me, twitching with the need to take flight.
“I could do it. Right now. I could fly straight to his bed and shove a blade through his fucking chest. The court wouldn’t stop me. Not if they knew—”
“Korithax.” Aran’s voice is stronger now. “If you kill the king, it’s treason. You’ll lose your claim. You’ll lose everything. Including her.”
My throat tightens at the thought of being ripped away from her. I’ve come too close to losing her too many times in such a short fucking amount of time.
“She needs you. She doesn’t need vengeance. Not yet. She just needs you.”
I let the words settle. Because they’re true. And I hate to admit it, but Aran’s right. Killing him won’t change anything. His time will come.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, hard enough to see stars.
“I don’t know who I am anymore, Aran,” I whisper.
“The world I’ve built in my head—my father, my legacy, the Divine Six, everything—it’s all bullshit.
And she’s looking at me like I might shatter her without even meaning to.
Because at the root of it all, this is my fault. I should’ve stayed away from her.”
“You won’t shatter her. And you couldn’t stay away from her,” Aran says. “Because, despite the mate bond pulling you together… You love her.”
I look up sharply.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not a secret that you worship the ground she walks on. You’d kill a fucking god for her. Or six.”
I sink into one of the chairs, leaning forward to place my forearms on my knees. My head drops into my hands as I let out a deep exhale. Even Aran was changing. I don’t think I’d ever heard him swear before. What the fuck was going on?
“She doesn’t even want to be who she is,” I murmur. “She doesn’t want to be a queen anymore. She just wants to be… Daisy.”
Aran walks over and places a hand on my shoulder, the small gesture somehow calming. His reassurance washes over me, and I look up to face him.
“Then remind her she can be Daisy, and she can be so much more. She’s already yours, and whatever crown she wears, whatever throne she’s destined for… she’s still the girl who stared a seven-foot demon in the face and told him to piss off.”
I huff out a laugh. “She’s everything,” I whisper. “She’s my mate, my little flower.”
Aran squeezes my shoulder. “Then be her mate in every way that counts. But don’t burn the world down before she asks you to.”
I look up at him, and this time, I really see him. Not my advisor, not my assistant. Just my friend, my brother.
“Thank you,” I say, voice hoarse.
He nods once, then pulls the sword from the wall and lays it on the table beside me. “Try not to throw this again. It’s very old.”
My lip tugs up at the corner as I offer him a small nod in response. He leaves the room, the door clicking quietly behind him.
I sit alone for a while, the sword beside me, my thoughts a battlefield. I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but I know who I’m fighting for. And I know who I won’t spare when the time comes. Not even my own blood.