Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
“ E verinne!” Atlas roared her name, hating the way she was limp in Jarek’s arms, the way her head lolled like a broken doll.
Cold iron seared into his skin, stifling his magic further, making it impossible to even summon his wings.
He strained for her, ached for her, but every movement was like slogging through wet sand.
Strenuous and taxing. It didn’t matter how hard he fought, his muscles would not work.
Fatigue riddled his bones, and the powerful metal clamped around his wrists and ankles rendered him useless.
“Let her go,” he seethed, because at least the fury in his voice had not yet failed him.
“Calm yourself, boy.” Oldrich motioned toward the guards standing watch behind Atlas. One of them stalked forward, snatched Everinne from Jarek’s arms without a word, then swiftly carried her out of the throne room. “She’ll wake up eventually.”
“Where are you taking her?” Atlas demanded, but from the corner of his eye he saw Veros slump, as though he already knew.
Oldrich snorted in annoyance, his chest puffing out, while he blatantly ignored his son’s question. “I need you to understand something, Atlas. You will never wear the crown. Prava will never belong to you.”
He stomped down the dais, his boots clicking against the polished granite, each step an enunciation of his blatant tyranny.
Pausing in front of Atlas, he looked down the length of his nose at him, like he’d stepped in something foul.
“When Everinne returns from her little adventure, broken in mind and soul, you will wed her as planned. You will plant your seed in her. And once she births a healthy heir, you will be free from your responsibilities.”
Atlas tilted his head back, spasms of pain ricocheting down his spine as he craned his neck to glare up at his father. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
The kralv suffered him a sigh.
“I will no longer have any need for you. But since the gods and goddesses do not look kindly upon the slaughter of one’s child, I’ve come up with a compromise.” Oldrich snapped his fingers. “Remove the iron.”
A guard hauled Atlas to his feet. The clanking of metal rang in his ears as the iron chains were removed and the moment they fell away, he was renewed, as though the very essence of life flowed through his veins.
His magic and strength were restored, his heart pounded, his lungs expanded, and calm rage wound him tightly with tension.
The bond tying him to Everinne was still intact, their heartbeats intertwined, the pull of her soul called to him like an ancient song full of eternal promises.
Yet all he wanted was to kill his father, to plunge a blade into his chest and carve out his heart, then crush it with his bare hands until it was nothing more than a pulpy mess.
But he could do none of those things. He’d been stripped of weapons, and worse, Everinne had been taken.
Again. Until Atlas had the answers he sought, he would keep his father alive, and then he would end the bastard’s life.
Kneeling beside him, Veros looked up, caution flashing in his turquoise eyes.
There was a hollowness there, a silent grief that bled into the gold around his pupils.
Atlas had known Veros for years . He remembered it clearly, the day he first arrived at the palace, just like he remembered when Veros rescued Everinne from the Deszvila Forest, before it devoured their village.
Before it stole the lives of their parents.
Only then had Atlas witnessed such a deeply harbored sorrow in Veros, only then had the Lord of Time worn a mask of despair.
Until now.
Whatever they were about to endure…it would be devastating.
“What compromise?” Atlas rubbed his wrists, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin where his flesh was left charred and burned from the iron. “I only agreed to an unnamed favor.”
“Exactly.” Oldrich’s gaze slid toward the dais, and Jarek strolled forward, his cloak of black moving around him like slithering shadows, the skull rings he wore emanating a reddish, evil glow.
Alarm needled its way into Atlas’s spine, suspicion and mistrust keeping him on edge. Wary and alert. He glanced at his father, guarded, and his voice dropped. “What have you done?”
“I did what is best for the longevity of my kingdom.” Oldrich tucked his hands behind his back and turned, climbing the few granite steps of the dais.
He seated himself on his throne of obsidian—the engraved wolves seeming to snarl at his presence—and leaned back, rapping his knuckles across the curving arm.
“You see, not so long ago, the fire ruby mines began to suffer. As you know, the rubies are one of Prava’s main sources of wealth, and the jewels make for excellent trade. ”
Atlas glanced down at Veros, who was staring straight ahead, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
“What does any of this have to do with Everinne?” Meeting his father’s complacent gaze, Atlas dared one step forward. The kralv’s guards remained in place, only Jarek met his advance.
Oldrich disregarded him once more, instead he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a glittering black stone. “Without the rubies, there would be no wealth. Then one of the mining prisoners discovered this.”
He lifted the gem and held it high, so the waning light of the chandelier reflected a thousand stars against the stone’s polished surface. The jewel looked exactly like the one Everinne pointed out at the witch’s shop in the Marzena.
“It’s a nightfall diamond. Rare and desirable. And its value is excessive.” The kralv cradled it in his palm, coiling one finger around it at a time, hiding away its beauty. “Unfortunately, mining for the diamonds is quite dangerous.”
“The immortals,” Atlas breathed, shock radiating through him.
He knew his father was vile, but never did he think the kralv would stoop low enough as to send innocent lives to Rizenrok Forge just for more wealth.
They were citizens of Prava, his people , and he’d betrayed them.
“You’re not hunting them. You’re enslaving them. ”
That was why Oldrich continuously brushed off Atlas’s concerns, that was why he attempted to distract him by forcing him to marry.
“Rather brilliant, don’t you think?” Oldrich chuckled. “The demon summoner so graciously agreed to grant me an endless supply of bodies to mine for nightfall diamonds.”
Atlas’s gaze shot to Jarek.
He stood utterly still, his hands folded before him, his expression one of quiet contemplation.
His jaw ticked. There was a flicker in his gaze, barely imperceptible, but Atlas noticed it all the same.
Jarek knew the entirety of the story, whereas Oldrich only seemed to be aware of the most intriguing chapters.
The kralv had been fooled.
“In exchange for what?” Atlas spun on his heel to face his father. “What did you promise him?”
The kralv smirked. “Your soul.”
Atlas reared back as though he’d been slapped. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Quite. Though I couldn’t give up my only son, not without ensuring I had a proper heir.
” Oldrich leaned forward, his knuckles whitening over the arms of the throne, his brutal aura looming like a storm of tyranny.
“Which is why I will raise your son or daughter to be the next kralv or kralvina. And you will become the next Zolvost.”
“What?” Atlas rounded on Jarek and stalked toward him, his malice expanding. He met the demon summoner’s cold glare head on. “You’re going to turn me into a sex-crazed demon? That’s your plan?”
Jarek said nothing, but Oldrich answered for him instead. “You must admit, it’s rather fitting.”
Atlas raked his hands through his hair, pacing before the dais.
This couldn’t be real, it had to be some kind of fever dream.
Maybe he’d indulged in too much honeyfire and his sound, rational mind was suffering the repercussions of exorbitant intoxication.
His fists clenched at his sides, squeezing until his nails bit into his palms. He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them a moment later, he found Veros staring at him in solemn resignation.
He’d known. He’d known this would happen and could do nothing to prevent it. Because he was bound to the power of time.
Atlas sent a scathing look at his father, ignoring the way Jarek was closing in on him. “And what of Ever?”
The kralv shrugged and lounged back against his throne. He waved one dismissive hand through the air. “I intend to have her thoroughly broken and then I’ll use her as I see fit. I’d wed her myself, but I can’t have all of Prava loathing me for stealing my son’s betrothed.”
Atlas lunged for him, darting up the steps of the dais. It didn’t matter if he was without a dagger or sword, he would rip out his father’s heart with his hands.
His father’s answering laughter rattled through his mind as a blast of fiendish energy slammed into him.
Without warning, he was airborne. The surge of power threw him down the stairs so his back smacked soundly against the granite floor and glowing skulls danced in front of his eyes.
Pain cracked up and down his spine, and his breath wheezed out of him, leaving him gasping for air.
“Not so fast, playboy prince.” Jarek’s shadowy outline came into view, his eyes pulsing red beneath a drawn, dark brow.
“You can’t change me yet,” Atlas rasped, the words slipping between broken ribs and punctured lungs.
He rolled his head, pinning his father with a look of retribution.
“Your plan will fail. Everinne will never wed a demon. Our family bloodline will die with me, and you’ll never get your precious heir. ”
His father flashed a cruel smile. “She will do exactly as I say…because you’re her mate.”
It was all the warning Atlas had before Jarek’s demonic powers consumed him.
The air crackled and hissed, pressing in on his chest so he thought his lungs would collapse.
Blood boiled through his veins as his bones elongated, forming new tendons, distorting his body into that of a hulking beast. Silver claws emerged from his hands and feet, and the sound of ripping fabric and tearing flesh pounded against his skull.
Pain magnified and he writhed in torment, suffering beneath Jarek’s corrupt magic.
Atlas’s chest expanded, his arms and legs bulking to an immense size, carving him with solid, corded muscle.
Before his eyes, he watched as his skin morphed into a hideous red shade, like the charred flames of an inferno.
Curving onyx horns protruded through the top of his head, and when Atlas opened his mouth to scream, the agony worse than anything he’d suffered before, a serpent-like black tongue lashed out from between his lips.
The crush of demonic magic was too much, it slithered into his mind, absorbing his thoughts and dominating his emotions.
He was losing, the demon emerging from inside him would become his master, and he would be forced to obey.
Atlas snarled, repeating one name over and over while he was restrained, powerless inside the body of the Zolvost who craved lust and blood.
Everinne.
Everinne.
Everinne.
Terror riddled Atlas when the demon responded.
“Mine.”