Chapter Thirty-Two #2
Nick wanted to object; he was filthy. But he knew she would hate him questioning her order. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, letting his eyes slip shut. Was this the ‘nymph’ smell Greya meant? Acidic, rancid water.
Rin and Greya let out matching screeches, cut off abruptly into gurgles. Benches clattered, growls rumbled from throats, tails cut through the air. Nick would have ignored it all to lay a thousand kisses upon Desre, but she pulled away, turning towards the commotion.
The two guards were being dragged from the hall, each wrangled by three kits apiece.
Rin and Greya were writhing on the ground, hands on their throats.
Blood spurted from between their fingers, their ancient lives leaking out of them in pulses.
Whatever had lengthened their lives didn’t save them now.
In seconds, they went still, centuries of existence snuffed out in a moment.
Kit stood between them, his sword clasped in a fist, blade wet with blood.
He wore a fine, embroidered shirt, leather trousers, and an expression like an avenger.
Dread sliced through the fog shrouding Nick’s thoughts. “Kit,” he choked out. “Why are you here? Leave.”
Desre’s influence slammed back into him. Nick flinched at its touch, then relaxed, everything in him subdued. Calmed. Nick turned from Kit—idly noting his tension, his lashing tail, the fury in his eyes—and instead looked to Desre for instruction.
Her gaze slid over the bodies on the ground before lifting to Kit.
She smiled, but Nick felt her unease. How long had it been since Kit had openly defied her?
Not since Kit was a child, he guessed. Not since he’d grown up fierce and strong, carefully moulded into a weapon.
Except the weapon she’d honed was baring its sharpened teeth at her.
“You escaped your uncle quickly this time,” she noted.
“He came for me,” Nick warned. “Not to return to your service.”
“For you?”
“We’re together,” Nick explained. “A couple. He’s scent-marked me.”
Desre stared at Kit. “I thought you were shy, my dear?” she asked, something deadly in her tone. “But you have been with this man?” There was more anger in her than when Rin had cursed nymph.
Kit said nothing.
“We’ve been together,” Nick told her. “I haven’t found him to be particularly shy.”
“Kit,” Ios called. “Please. We can’t do anything against her.”
Nick looked again in that direction. Kit stood there, shaking, furious. He glared so hard at where Desre’s hand had a biting hold of his throat that Nick worried her skin would burn. Behind Kit stood Ios, holding on to the edge of the doorway, afraid.
“He can’t overpower Kit,” Nick pointed out, guessing Ios wanted to grab Kit and drag him from the hall. “He’s too strong.”
“If you leave,” Desre said, “I will drag your lover to the bottom of the well and chain his body there. He will spend eternity rotting, cold and alone.”
The threat meant nothing to Nick. If she wanted to kill him, he would simply ask how he could help. He could climb into the well. He could swim down and breathe the water deep into his lungs. The idea of spending eternity in the well that belonged to her was a soothing one.
“Or,” Desre continued, “I will keep him alive as a lover of my own. I assume there is something about him that you enjoy in bed?”
“He likes my piercings –”
Kit’s snarl cut Nick off. But he didn’t advance towards them. Kit trembled as if straining against an invisible leash. Nick could feel the same leash in himself, a thread of calm compliance, but in Kit it twisted like a noose, choking his fury into stillness.
The sound of a metal clink caught Nick’s attention. His gaze slid from aisle to altar to well. A young kit balanced on the edge, something Nick thought was probably sacrilegious.
“The city is empty,” Kit said abruptly, voice loud. “My uncle has taken everything from the vaults. Every gem. Every coin. Every bolt of silk. He has taken everything from you…but I will return to your service if you release Nick.”
Mini held the dagger Desre had tossed aside in his grip, Nick’s blood already dried onto the metal.
He slid from the altar, feet silently finding the ground.
He wore a short-sleeved shirt. Every inch of skin was covered in gleaming black ink, the same symbol repeated over and over again.
The symbol that Nick, having failed to copy accurately, had made Mini copy instead.
Had made him draw over and over until it was a perfect replica, and now here it was, replicated over every inch of available skin.
Only his face was devoid of the black markings, glowing pale in the moonlight.
He met Nick’s eyes, cocking his head to the side.
Desre sensed something behind her; she began to turn.
“This is quite the mess.”
Valor’s voice froze her.
Desre trembled as she turned towards him.
Nick stared at the dagger in Mini’s hand, his heart beginning to race.
He was close. Close enough to be dangerous.
Nick opened his mouth, and Mini froze, his eyes flashing at Nick.
From his expression, it seemed as though he’d only just come to the unpleasant realisation that Nick was under Desre’s sway.
He’s not dangerous, Nick thought forcefully, quashing the need to warn Desre. Nobody could hurt her. Nobody could raise a hand against her. It didn’t matter how close Mini got with that knife because he couldn’t wield it to harm her anyway. The symbol hadn’t worked on Kit; it wouldn’t work on Mini.
Nick forced himself to turn away from Mini, the resistance stifling his ability to even breathe. Kit’s gaze hooked Nick; he was holding so, so still.
“You’ve hidden away for so long, and now here you are,” Desre said. Valor stood with Kit.
Yes, Nick forced himself to think. Valor is the dangerous one. The strategist. The commander. The type that Desre found irksome. Valor was who Nick needed to take aim at.
“Kit,” Nick said. “Valor sent me here. You were right not to trust him.”
Kit’s tail froze mid-swing. His breath caught, and his eyes slid to his uncle, accusing and betrayed.
The corner of Valor’s mouth twitched, but he expressed nothing else.
Nick noticed the way Valor’s body shook too, a tremble, like he was pushing against Desre’s influence, trying to approach.
You couldn’t approach if you meant her harm.
So Nick didn’t need to tell her about Mini, who wouldn’t have been able to walk over here if he meant Desre harm.
“Capture him, Kit,” Desre ordered. “Tie him up.”
Worry began to gnaw at his gut. What if he did harm her, though? What if those symbols were working on Mini where they hadn’t on Kit? He turned to see where Mini had gone.
The blade was already pressed to the hollow of her throat.
Mini neatly pulled it across.
Pain seared through Nick’s neck as blood sprayed across his face.
His chains rattled as he recoiled, raising his hands to his throat, choking.
The stench of sweet rot filled his nose.
Desre whirled, reaching wildly for her assailant, but Mini neatly leapt out of her reach.
He crouched on the altar again, on the edge of the well, his tail lashing, his eyes deadly.
Blood spurted out, softly hissing as it met stone. Her hands slipped free of Nick’s skin, and the loss of her buckled his knees.
Nick gasped in a breath, his mind clearing.
Desre lunged for the well.
“Stop her!” Valor snapped. There was the sound of many feet racing across stone.
Mini’s tail cracked against her head, and he drove the knife towards her neck. She didn’t dodge. Desre took the blow, letting the knife sink once more into her flesh. She tackled Mini, who let out a squeal of surprise as he fell back. Both of them disappeared into the water with a splash.