Chapter 10
The Dragon King
I strode back to my chambers. Did the woman think I’d fall for her deception?
Her story was madness. The mages who ruled the Bloodvale overthrown? Cassius made king with a human wife?
Impossible.
She was like all beautiful women. A liar. A deceitful serpent playing a wicked game. I flexed my fist until my knuckles cracked. I’d find out her purpose soon enough.
Courtiers and servants alike bowed as I passed, but I paid them no heed. Now wasn’t the time for petty problems and obsequious fools. I had to know the truth.
It would be easy enough to squeeze confessions from her companions. They were weak, pathetic things—one a blubbering old fool, the other a coward who’d pissed himself and begged for his life. The slightest pressure, and I was certain he’d give me anything I wanted.
But it wouldn’t be enough to hear it from them. I had to see it for myself. Then there would be no doubt, and I could do away with the humans as I saw fit.
Except the woman. She was too dangerous to let go. I’d keep her.
Her companions didn’t have a fraction of her strength or fire. When faced with a dragon, she’d drawn her bow and loosed a shot, knowing it was her end. Hell, she’d just stood before me and made demands. Of me.
From the moment I’d laid eyes on her, I couldn’t shake her face from my thoughts.
It had to be those damned lavender eyes—a color that would be seared into my mind until my dying breath.
Or maybe it was her lips, soft and defiant and utterly maddening.
Crafted by the gods themselves to judge and tempt me.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to worship them or silence them with my own.
Fool.
There was a reason I didn’t kiss. Not anymore. Not since Jezebel had taught me what a woman’s mouth could make a man believe. I’d buried that weakness years ago, and yet here I was, fixated on this mortal woman’s lips like a starved man.
I was slipping. Perhaps it was the curse.
Or perhaps it was her.
The guards flanking the entrance to my private chambers quickly moved aside. I slammed the door shut and slid the bolts into place. I didn’t wish to be disturbed by anyone while using Sirael.
I didn’t know where the enchanted mirror had come from, or why it was here, only that its magic seeped beneath my skin like something twisted and evil. Locke, my high magister, had warned me not to use it.
But I needed the truth, and that was worth the risk.
I headed into my study and raked a razor-sharp fang across my palm, drawing blood. I smeared it across the wall, leaving a streak of red. “Reveal yourself to me, Sirael.”
The wall shimmered, and the mirror appeared, its golden frame sculpted with the images of the Fates. My skin stung, and my breath fogged as the temperature in the room plunged.
The surface of the mirror was tarnished and cracked a dozen times over. The intact half showed my face, while the broken half showed my true self. My mouth twisted in loathing and disgust. I needed no reminder of the monster I was.
Sirael had the power to show me anyone I’d met before—where they were, who they were with. It could show me the world and everything denied to me—that is, except for the one thing I needed to see most: the Bloodvale. The mages’ spell blocked the mirror’s magic as surely as it kept me out.
The irony of it sliced through me like a molten dagger.
“Let’s see if you’re lying to me, little beauty.” If the mages’ spell had truly been broken as she claimed, then the mirror would obey my command.
“Show me Cassius, King of the Bloodvale.” I’d spoken the same words countless times before, every time to no effect.
Darkness curled across the surface of the mirror, obscuring the torturous reflections of my face. There would be nothing. There never was—
The dark clouds obscuring the mirror became silver, and I stilled as light and shadow coalesced. The image formed like smoke and then became crystal clear.
Cassius. And he wore a crown.
The muscles in my body coiled, and the ache of memory lanced through my chest.
He hadn’t aged a day. Every line on his face was exactly as I remembered it, except…
He was laughing.
My treacherous brother.
Laughing.
When had I last seen him happy? Not since we were young—but that was ages ago. He’d become a man of cold honor and duty, a relentless shadow in the room. And now…he was happy?
The fucking bastard.
“Who is Cassius with?” I demanded.
My view of him widened. He was speaking to a woman. Her filigree crown of gold flashed against her long silver hair. They were walking through the rose gardens, my gardens, and laughing.
The sound was bitter and cruel in my ears.
“Show me her face.”
The clouds of silver cascaded and swirled as the image moved.
My jaw clenched. It was inconceivable, but there was no doubt that the fool had married a human. Instead of the cold perfection of our kind, her skin glowed with life and beauty.
She glanced up for a moment, and my cold heart stilled. Those eyes.
I stepped forward and grasped the mirror—her cheeks, the curve of her jaw, the delicate line of her nose, and those fucking lavender eyes. I knew them all.
My breath escaped my lungs. They were sisters. They had to be. There was no way it was a coincidence. Not with eyes like those.
“Show me Belle Marquette,” I rasped, the words more of a growl than speech.
Clouds of silver filled the mirror, then dissipated, revealing the woman sitting in a cell high above my castle, lit with moonlight. The sight of her made my blood heat. She huddled against the wall, filthy with sweat and dirt, her clothes torn and stained.
And yet, she was mesmerizing.
The woman shifted and looked to the side, as if searching for something.
Her head rose, and she stared straight at me with those damned lavender eyes.
They felled me with a single glance. I’d never seen their equal in all the centuries I’d been alive.
I could turn kingdoms to ash and still not match the fire in them.
Could she sense that I was watching? It was impossible—yet her glare was direct and unwavering, as if somehow, she knew, just as she had the day I’d first sighted her.
“You’re no simple peasant girl lost in the woods, are you, my little beauty?” I muttered.
She was the sister of a queen, the sister of a woman with mysterious magic that had bewitched and entrapped my brother.
So, what was she doing here? Few dared to enter my kingdom, so why her? Why now?
She reclined against the wall, too confident, too strong. Any normal mortal would have broken in terror of the fate awaiting her in the morning, yet there was only courage in the set of her jaw. She had purpose. A reason to be here.
My suspicions from the road returned, stronger than before. Killing me would be the final act my brother needed to secure his throne.
Fury rippled through me, my muscles coiling and the telltale pressure building along my spine. I clutched my hand to keep it steady. Not now.
I turned to dismiss the mirror but paused.
“Show me the mages,” I demanded.
Black clouds consumed the mirror, but this time, they didn’t part.
After centuries of tormenting our line, how could all three mages be dead? Their power had been immense—enough to bring our kingdom to its knees. Enough to force my father to bow before them. Then me. And then my treacherous brother.
And yet, a human had defeated them.
There had to be more to the story. Who was this queen, and what power did she hold over my brother?
Locke, my high magister, found me brooding in the dim light of my quarters later that evening. I’d drunk deeply from two courtesans, though it hadn’t quenched my anger or my hunger. It never did.
In the fifty years of my curse, even blood had lost its flavor. It had become a bitter wine, one I was forced to drink relentlessly without satisfaction, each sip buying me a little more time before the ceaseless hunger I’d been cursed with finally took hold.
I dismissed the women, who quickly dressed and hurried out without cleaning up the blood that covered their necks.
Locke surveyed the mess of wine bottles and rumpled sheets as I put on a fresh shirt. “I heard you were in a mood. Does this have anything to do with the woman who showed up at the foregate this evening?”
“The mages are dead.”
Locke froze, his ice-blue eyes as sharp as daggers. “What do you mean?”
There was a subtle joy in knowing something my high magister did not. “The woman—Belle—claims that they were overthrown by a human witch, who now sits on the throne beside my bastard of a brother, ruling as king and queen.”
“Preposterous.”
“I thought so, too, but I checked the mirror. The spell obscuring the Bloodvale has been broken.” I grabbed a half-finished bottle of wine and headed to the study.
Locke followed, his voice sharp. “You used the mirror? I’ve warned you—”
“I had to know,” I said bitterly. “I saw Cassius—and his witch queen. As for the three mages, nothing. They must be dead.”
The high magister’s face was troubled, the furrows deepening. “We must find out exactly what happened.”
“Conveniently, I’m certain the woman is a relative of the queen—a sister or a cousin. They have the same eyes, eyes like I’ve never seen.”
“A sister…” Locke said, calculation taking hold of his expression. “Perhaps she was sent for a reason. I can get the truth from her.”
“No,” I growled.
The high magister raised his brows. Even I was surprised by my outburst.
“I’ll handle the woman,” I said. “However, she has two companions locked in the dungeon. They’re all yours.”
Locke dropped into the large chair in the corner of the room and steepled his fingers, watching me in silence.
I scowled. “What is it? What are you pondering?”
“You understand the implications, don’t you? To your curse?”
“That’s what doesn’t make sense. The mages have been overthrown, and yet, my curse remains. It should’ve ended, but nothing’s changed.”
Locke leveled me with a penetrating stare. “To break the curse, you had to kill the rulers of the Bloodvale, Valen. But someone else has beaten you to it.”
The world shifted beneath me, the shadows in the room growing longer. “Then I’m damned.”
“Not damned yet,” Locke said, his expression as grave as stone. “By the words of the bargain you made, there’s still a chance. The Bloodvale has new rulers now. If you kill them, you’ll be free, and the throne yours.”
The iron trap of the demon’s curse snapped shut, and the raging beast inside me went deathly still.
“Cassius,” I whispered as the truth of it dawned. “I have to kill my brother.”
Locke’s lips drew into a thin line. “And his queen.”