Chapter 2 Dianna #2
My eyes damn near stung with how bright the inside of the castle was.
If I thought the outside of his castle was an eyesore, it was nothing compared to the interior.
It was an array of the same bright whites and blues, varying in different patterns and shapes.
Horribly garish decorations stood alongside fine art and stunning statues, none of it appealing.
Thick columns were embedded into the walls, supporting the domed ceiling soaring high overhead.
On one side of the massive dining room hung a painting of a large oceanic battle, with ships clashing and an enormous serpent beast below.
The large horned fish that hung on the wall behind Iver glared at us with dead eyes.
“This place will haunt my dreams,” I told him across our bond. “Do you think he has enough fish memorabilia? I get it. He rules a sea-born city.”
Samkiel’s humor fluttered across my mind, and I could feel his smile like the warmth of the early morning sun. “Trust me, I don’t wish to be here any more than you. I’d much prefer we were home in our bed with you sitting on my face and your thighs squeezing the sides of my head as my ton—”
I slammed my knee against his leg, stopping him from finishing that sentence and the illicit images filling his mind.
Heat pooled low in my belly, fueled by his knowing, sexy chuckle that caressed our bond.
Outwardly, he smirked at me with cocky arrogance, desire sparking in his eyes and turning them into molten silver.
I knew that look. Perhaps he wasn’t in such a foul mood as I thought.
Iver paid us no mind as the servants entered and placed steaming plates of food before each of us, starting with him. Iver smiled greedily and lifted his hand, allowing the others of his court to indulge. He and Samkiel soon began exchanging pleasantries.
I was listening to their conversation, but I smiled softly at the woman who sat next to Iver.
Her thick blonde hair was artfully twisted into two separate buns, and she wore a white and blue dress that gathered at her shoulders.
She deftly took a fork from the small child on her lap.
The little girl couldn’t be more than a year old.
Undeterred, the baby squealed and reached for a spoon, her bright blue eyes filled with curiosity.
The woman glanced at Iver and then offered me a small, quick smile in return, nervously tucking the little girl’s dark curls behind her ears.
I got the feeling she was afraid of the consequences of being caught interacting with me.
The woman didn’t reek of salt and fish scales.
Instead, I caught the scent of a comforting floral fragrance surrounding her as if she were a flower plucked and plopped in this oceanside city.
She had positioned the baby on her knee furthest from Iver and had subtly shifted her body to shield the child.
She was obviously apprehensive, and I soon learned why.
“If you cannot shut her up, then I request your presence to be elsewhere,” Iver snapped without looking up, fish scales clinging to his bottom lip.
The woman pressed the child closer to her, but it only caused the little girl to struggle and squeal louder.
Iver raised his hand, and the guard standing to his right flinched.
I saw it, and I felt Samkiel’s awareness sharpen.
The guard’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly on the woman, not in anger but in defense.
I wondered if, under his blue-tinged armor, his hair was as dark as the small girl’s curls Iver’s wife held so lovingly.
The guard relaxed a fraction and quickly volunteered when Iver only waved an imperious hand, indicating he wanted his wife and child escorted out.
No one else paid any mind to the interaction.
“Your face.” Samkiel’s voice flooded my mind.
I didn’t need a mirror to know that my expression was twisted into a snarl of disgust at how he spoke to her.
Iver seemed to have a gift for being oblivious because he let out a throaty chuckle and said, “I guess I am lucky to even have that brat. The last two she could not keep.” He stabbed the steaming vegetables on his plate, food spraying from his lips as he said, “I wished for a son, you know?” He shrugged. “I can always try again.”
He spoke of her as if she were just some broodmare. I already hated this man, if he could even be called a man.
I refused to look at Iver, instead watching his wife’s retreating form. Tears welled in her eyes, but the child seemed to ease at the nearness of the guard, even reaching for him. As they left the room, I wondered how long it would be before Iver lost his life to the man sworn to protect him.
“If I ever give you children and you speak to me or them that way, I’ll cut your cock off, fry it, and feed it to you.”
Samkiel coughed around his hand at my very vulgar threat.
“Is everything all right?” Lord Iver asked, turning fully to us as his wife and young child left.
“Yes,” Samkiel said, his leg brushing mine.
“I’d kiss the ground you walk on if you gave me such a gift.”
“You already do. Do something else.”
Laughter drifted across our bond, his foot playfully nudging me under the table.
“Can I burn him?” I said. “Just a little. Maybe he’d be nicer.”
“No,” he said. “You promised no maiming.”
It was my turn to grumble. “I am regretting that decision.”
Silverware clanked as people continued to feast, but Samkiel did not touch his food. We had decided that after the Jade City queen poisoned him, he would only eat what was prepared for him at home by me.
“I noticed when we flew in that your city has grown substantially,” Samkiel said.
“Ah, yes, the consort you rode in on,” Iver said around a mouth of steaming fish meat.
“Do you usually ride your consorts into battle?” he asked, snickering at his own joke.
A woman on his right gazed at him coquettishly from behind her wine glass, giggling along with him.
Others at the table joined in. It was obviously forced, but it was becoming alarmingly apparent that his so-called advisors were more interested in pleasing the lord of the house than advising.
“Can I burn him now?”
“I’m contemplating the fallout as we speak,” Samkiel said, glaring daggers at the man’s jest.
A slow smile spread across my face. “How badly do we actually need allies?” I replied, but kept my physical mouth shut, my hands resting in my lap.
“My wife,” Samkiel said, throwing that last word at Iver like a dagger. It was a challenge to see if he would disrespect me once more and present Samkiel with an opportunity to show him what he’d lose if he did.
Finally, Iver seemed to remember who was sitting at his table. He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze, unable to meet Samkiel’s glare, much less hold it. The council members surrounding us murmured soft whispers of disbelief.
“I don’t find quips or innuendos about my wife humorous, Iver, and if you make crude comments about her again, I will no longer concern myself with being your ally. I will have your head, and then I will have your city.”
The silence grew, only broken by an audible gulp from an older gentleman to the fair right, but no one spoke.
Samkiel had addressed Iver without using his title, and it seemed to have blown their minds.
They kept their gazes fixated on their lord and away from us.
Everyone watched as Iver slowly lowered his fork back to the half-eaten redfish on his plate.
“My apologies to you, Your Highness,” Iver said, and I didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm.
“Don’t apologize to me,” Samkiel said, his lethally calm tone at odds with the powerful storm building outside. “Apologize to her.”
The wind grew, pressing against the glass of the dining hall with enough force to make them creak.
The atmosphere shaped itself, preparing for his command to split the skies.
My mind reached for his, hoping to calm the growing storm, but I was not met with a maelstrom at all.
I blinked and dug deeper. The silence and stillness I found were scarier than the chaos I had expected.
Instead, I met Oblivion, hungry and waiting.
It was pure darkness, coiling upon itself like a serpent, glaring through Samkiel’s eyes and waiting to strike in my defense.
I blinked and reached for his hand under the table, his thumb worrying over the emptiness on his finger where Oblivion’s ring had been.
He squeezed back, completely unaware of what I’d seen.
At my touch, the temper he hid so well slowly dissipated.
If he were lightning and death, I was the grounding rod.
Iver bowed his head toward me. “I apologize. My comment was in poor taste.” I nodded, and his gaze flicked toward Samkiel once more.
“I was unaware you had claimed one in such a manner. Please forgive me. This is so shocking to us all. You must understand, given your reputation,” Iver said, his previous sass restored to his tone.
“My reputation,” Samkiel said. He said it as a statement, but the question was there.
“If I may speak freely.” Iver folded his hands in front of him.
“You are the Slayer of Beasts, Peacekeeper, Unir’s bright and dutiful son.
You are a legend among the realms, and now you’ve returned from death with not only a wife that is not your betrothed Imogen but an Ig’Morruthen one at that.
She is the same breed of being who destroyed Rashearim.
But if this union offers a greater allegiance than the celestial beauty, I would understand.
The power she possesses could make Nismera falter.
” His eyes cut to mine. “With all due respect, of course.”
I had forgotten our return would raise the question of his betrothal.
I had honestly forgotten about it after interacting with Imogen and seeing her and Samkiel together.
It was painfully obvious that there was no romantic love between them.
The betrothal had been forced upon them, and Samkiel had more than proved his love for me.
Thinking of Imogen filled me with sadness, not jealousy or anger. I desperately missed my friend.
“To answer your first question, my union with Imogen was strictly political and orchestrated by my father in an attempt to temper my wild ways. My marriage to Dianna was not arranged. I married her because I love her. Whether she be Ig’Morruthen, god, celestial, or mortal, my love and devotion to her would not change.
So, no, it is not for power. And might I remind you, my sister and her rebellion destroyed Rashearim,” Samkiel said.
“She and other traitorous gods who wished for Unir’s throne, not my wife. ”
I knew it wasn’t the time or place, but my heart thrilled whenever Samkiel proudly claimed me.
Even when the allies he wished to recruit to his side turned up their noses at the very sight of me, he never faltered.
Warmth seeped into every cell of my very being.
Treasures and gold and artifacts seemed so meaningless when being loved so wholly was far more valuable.
“Speaking of your sister. As you’ve mentioned, she wears your crown, sits atop your throne, and works tirelessly to expand her kingdom.” Iver raised his glass, sipping loudly. “This has been so for a thousand years.”
“I’m aware.” Samkiel took a deep breath, steeling his nerves for what he knew was coming, and I had to give him credit.
Over the last few weeks, we had either been in battle or visiting as many of the lords and ladies of the realms as we could.
He hadn’t said anything, but exhaustion draped across his shoulders like a second coat.
Some had drawn their weapons at our approach, turning us away as they waved Nismera’s damned banner.
Others greeted us warily. They would listen, but in the end, they remained pledged to her.
Iver was our last stop, and it was clear that all hope of an alliance was lost here.
“Yet, you visit not only my borders but those of the few remaining houses that still stand fortified and stored because of her? Correct?”
“Yes,” Samkiel said with lethal calm. “My birthright was taken from me while I sat behind closed realms. Your ancestors all vowed oaths before my father, and as his successor, that means your loyalty lies with me.”
Iver reached for his goblet of wine and took a long sip as he studied Samkiel.
He placed the glass back down with a heavy sigh and folded his hands on the table in front of him.
“With all due respect, we have fulfilled those. You were presumed dead for a thousand years. Nismera is from Unir’s line, just as you are.
Her legitimacy is just, no matter your return, and we cannot break our allegiance to her. ”
Samkiel was quiet for so long that I wondered what he was planning. Was he reassessing how to approach the remaining houses in these realms? But as I brushed against his mind, all I felt was disappointment.
Anger raced across my skin like a scalding flame. The Ig’Morruthen in me raised her head toward the perceived threat, my willingness to protect him second nature to both sides of my being. The words were on my lips, but Samkiel’s fingers squeezed mine.
“If we threaten violence, we are no better than her,” Samkiel said.
“He’s a fool. They all are.”
“He’s loyal to her as they all have been. Fear does that. I would want them to follow us with such loyalty as well.”
A low growl vibrated in my throat. “I’d rather he followed her into a grave. He’s a waste of air.”
His soft chuckle flowed across our bond even as our faces remained stoic.
“They are allowed their choices. This is why we have traveled to ask. Loyalty gained out of fear can be lost as easily as it is promised. I just have to figure out how to get them to trust me.”
I huffed but said nothing because, as always, he was right. Samkiel forced a smile and rose, his hand still in mine as he pulled me up with him. The guards’ shields and spears clattered as they drew closer to their lord. Iver waved them off and stood, realizing we did not rise in threat.
“I appreciate the honesty and hospitality,” Samkiel said with every bit of kindness I did not possess. Cold food, dirty silverware, and snide comments were not hospitality.
Samkiel squeezed my hand again as he heard my every thought. “We shall take our leave now.”
Iver bowed slightly, his lips quirking in an evil grin as if he knew something we did not. Samkiel only interlaced his fingers through mine and led me from the castle. As we left the waterbound city, I worried more about the woman behind those walls than the alliance with Lord Iver.