Chapter Six #3
Fortunately, Rishaud’s sunfire hadn’t begun inching up the girls’ bodies.
It contented itself with only singeing the bottom of their dresses, which meant Rishaud was toying with her now.
“You are a sick bastard,” she spat. She was going to gut him for this latest disgusting offense and every other atrocity he’d committed today. She vowed it.
“Instead of continuing with your insolence, you should be profusely thanking me for sparing your life, Your Highness,” Rishaud said icily.
He motioned to the carnage before them. “Your penance for unacceptably jeopardizing what the Celestials have ordained for me will be living with what you’ve wrought here this day.
I hope this serves as a lesson that’ll make you a more docile wife when we have a do-over for this rubbish ceremony. ”
Kadeesha vibrated with rage. She was going to do worse than gut him. She was going to carve him ear to groin, filet the skin off his back, and then burn him alive. It was another vow. She didn’t care how long it took to figure out how to achieve it, this was a promise she’d never break:
Rishaud the Conqueror was a dead man.
Rishaud’s mocking laughter boomed, and Kadeesha realized she’d spoken the threat out loud.
“No, you won’t. You will henceforth be a good wife and stand beside your high king dutifully and behave as a proper Hyperion queen should, or I’ll have soldiers march through this entire palace and the whole of the Aether lands.
And they’ll make the scene before you seem like child’s play when they do it, and then you’ll still be the high queen, but of just Five Kingdoms.”
Bile seared Kadeesha’s throat, but then she refocused on the little girls and her sisters.
Leisha and Samira had made their way closer to the striplings, but a wound in Samira’s chest was seeping blood.
Samira clutched the spot that looked hazardously close to her heart with one hand and kept swinging her sword with the other.
For her to be devoting any energy to the injury at all meant it was severe enough that it couldn’t be ignored.
Rishaud’s hand locked around her bicep when her body moved on its own accord to go to Samira. To help her. “Did you forget my warning already, Archprincess?” he spoke low in her ear.
She drew in a breath through her nose and went rigid. He wasn’t bluffing; he’d made that plain enough. However, she couldn’t not help her sister.
Rishaud’s other hand gripped her jaw, his bruising fingers digging into her skin, and turned her head so she looked at the little girls head-on. “Watch the show, beloved. Feel your fuckup.” The sunfire crept higher over the girls’ dresses. Their screams ricocheted off the ceiling.
There was a stir of movement among the Hyperion fae.
It came from the group of six of Rishaud’s kinsfolk that had stuck out from the rest of his court like thorny nettles among a garden of magnolias.
The group was on their feet and brandishing weapons.
Not ones hidden on them, but ones they’d seemed to conjure out of thin air.
Their blades gleamed onyx and hissed with black smoke.
Kadeesha blinked. Her mind pieced together what weapons of that hue conjured from the lightless Void meant—the group were not Hyperion fae …
They were Apollyon fae.
Apollyon fae who wielded void magic and had infiltrated the Hyperion king’s wedding.
Which meant she’d been right about the reason she’d guessed that those Apollyon soldiers had been watching the palace.
Their Apollyon foes had been planning a strike.
Likely, they would’ve made their presence at the wedding known sooner if Rishaud hadn’t rained down chaos and blood himself …
She took little joy in the confirmation that she’d sussed out their plan considering the current situation.
She watched as the Apollyon fae moved at once, like the well-trained warriors they clearly were.
One of their males hacked through Hyperion soldiers, making his way toward the little girls’ sides.
Before he even reached them, the largest soldier among the hulking group—the man with the amber eyes that had looked her way earlier—sent thick black plumes of darkness rushing toward the little girls.
The darkness swathed Rishaud’s sunfire and smothered it.
The tightness in Kadeesha’s chest eased after it was made clear that the Apollyon soldiers would help the children and not visit harm on the little girls themselves.
Kadeesha couldn’t say the same for the rest of Rishaud’s court.
Four of the remaining Apollyon fae cut through Rishaud’s courtiers and kinsfolk, many of them never having the chance to flee from the fae who ripped through the pews like monsoons of death.
It was a gruesome sight, and yet she found her gaze drawn to one of them: the male among them with the amber eyes who now stalked toward the altar.
His features settled into smugness as he raised a long sleeve of his tunic and revealed a bracelet of zalika beads around his left wrist. His pair of void swords—fashioned in the shape of lethal scimitars—disappeared to free up his hands, and he touched a finger to one of the beads.
His shorn hair lengthened into luminous brown locs, and the bone structure of his face shifted.
His jaw, cheekbones, and nose became more pronounced, revealing the face of a man whose beauty was as hard-edged—and almost painful to look at—as it was beguiling and stunning.
And as darkness and shadows swirled in his eyes, brown bled through the amber before overtaking it entirely.
Kadeesha’s mouth went dry. She didn’t look upon an unfamiliar face once the glamour disappeared.
She knew this male. She’d spent the entire previous night relishing him stroking her into near delirium.
She also realized she knew this male, or at least of him, long before Oleander House—the version of his name he’d handed her was short for Malachizrien.
She’d been an idiot to ignore the alarm bells and not to slice through the throes of passion and give greater consideration to his name.
She didn’t have time to untangle the fury and hate and surprise and shame that struck her with the intensity of a battering ram because Malachizrien stood at the foot of the altar with features hardened into a mask of lethal intent as he glowered at Kadeesha and Rishaud.
Rishaud sneered down at the male. “Is this a little declaration of war, pup? If that’s what you seek, it was already headed your way.
But you’re a bigger fool than your father to so brazenly deliver your head directly to me.
Did you learn nothing from his demise? But of course not—he was weak and pathetic, and sons always follow in the way of their father. ”
“My title is king,” Malachizrien growled. “And no, I don’t seek war with you specifically, asshole. I simply want you to die where you stand. I’m going to relish showing you I am a much different beast than my father.”
Rishaud didn’t wait for Malachizrien’s attack; Kadeesha would give him that much. Molten columns of sunfire shot up around the Apollyon fae, surged over his head, and curved downward to douse him in flames.
Malachizrien grinned.
He had to be insane because he actually grinned while being surrounded by fire that burned as hot as the sun.
As the sunfire barreled down on his head, a black hole—a pocket of the Void he’d summoned—appeared beside Malachizrien and he stepped into the center of the lightless hole.
He reappeared on the altar mere inches away from Kadeesha and Rishaud.
The pair of smoky onyx scimitars materialized in his hands. He swung them at Rishaud’s neck.
Rishaud flung himself to the side, but his arm didn’t clear the arc of one of Malachizrien’s scimitars.
The black sword sliced through flesh and muscle and bone as easily as if cutting silk, severing Rishaud’s arm at the shoulder.
Rishaud staggered backward and Malachizrien advanced, scimitars raised.
Rishaud bellowed, a column of golden light appearing beside him.
Rishaud flung himself into it and vanished from the temple.
Malachizrien roared, rushed to where Rishaud had been standing before using his solar magic in the same way Malachizrien had used his void magic. He bellowed a string of curses.
“Kadeesha!”
Leisha and Samira shouting her name pried her attention away from the hulking male.
Her sisters ran toward her, Kadeesha spying not one person among the Hyperion fae alive in the pews around them.
There was nobody left alive from her court either, save for her Nkita sisters and the two little girls that an Apollyon male, who now had red locs, kneeled in front of attempting to soothe.
Malachizrien’s other four soldiers—who Kadeesha surmised had used zalika beads to don glamours too since they all now appeared as the familiar bunch he had entered Oleander House with—stood behind the one with red locs, stiffly watching him interact with the young Aether girls.
Leisha and Samira rushed up the altar’s steps and planted themselves between Malachizrien and Kadeesha.
They leveled swords at the male, who was …
Kadeesha stepped up beside her sisters. “You’re the Apollyon king!” she cried to Malachizrien.
He winked, a lascivious look in place. “I am, Princess.” He flicked a glance to Leisha and Samira. “Do we pretend we don’t know each other as intimately as we do, or …”