2. Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
MORTE
I t’s quiet.
So, so quiet, as though the room has been sucked of noise. No more shouting, magic, or slaughter. The only sound that penetrates my ears is the roar of my heartbeat in my veins.
An expanse of polished marble floors stretches out before me, interspersed with giant metal sculptures, grand wooden panels, glittering chandeliers and a small assembly of bewildered servants, whose panicked eyes train to the floor, trying not to make a sound as they clear out.
So, we’re still in the castle, far from the bloodshed. But where?
I surge to my feet, spinning to face the king of Romarie.
Azazel looks just like him.
Ollin Valtorious. Tyrant king of a realm full of metal.
He shares my mate’s sharp cheekbones, the same black hair and intensity, but where Azazel’s face once hinted at warmth or mischief, Ollin’s feels carved from stone. His expression betrays nothing, his bright blue eyes assessing me with a calculating coldness that chills my core. Even with his wings tucked away, his presence commands, just like his son’s.
How could I have taken so long to figure it out ?
I lunge for the autocratic king, raking my nails across his face, and Azazel shouts to stop me. He’s too late.
Agonizing pain sears my fingers, their tips dripping in what feels like molten lava. I yank my hands to my bare skin, shrieking and doubling over from the injury.
Despite the wounds to my fingers, satisfaction fills every crevice of my body as I raise my tear-soaked face to see four bloody lines crisscrossing King Valtorious' face. His eyes blaze like cobalt suns, and he hisses, rearing back from me.
Az quickly unbuttons his shirt and drapes it over my exposed body, shielding me from his father’s prying eyes as his hands glow with healing magic, tracing over the wounds across my fingers. The warmth of his power seeps into me, soothing the raw pain, but it doesn’t touch the deeper ache inside—the one he put there.
I clutch the shirt tightly around me, the scent of him overwhelming my senses, and dragging me back to a time when I thought he was mine. He tries to put his arm around my shoulders, but I slide out of his reach, my pulse racing with something I can’t name. The care in his actions twists something inside me. Protectiveness, tenderness—how can it feel real when I know what he’s done?
The king chuckles as he swipes at the streaks dripping down his face, before smudging them across his cheek. “Now, now, is that any way to treat your savior?” He straightens the necklace at his throat, and that’s when I notice the distinct sheen on it.
A slow smirk assembles upon his mouth as he catches me staring at it. “Who do you think supplied one of these necklaces to Irid?”
The last piece of a puzzle slides into place. Caius’s sister gave me a necklace that would protect me from harm. Since the moment I stepped foot in the underworld, it’d all been calculated.
Sanguimetal. Harvested only from the mines of Romarie, it can withstand any magic thrown at it, and it’s impervious to many things. It also offers protection. It’s why it’s used extensively at Bedlam Penitentiary—namely, in our cells.
That’s how he could snatch me from an impenetrable prison.
And Irid must’ve been colluding with King Valtorious when she killed Aggonid. Those had been Romarie guards there that day. The memory of losing him sears through me, a wound that refuses to heal. I thought I’d never survive that pain, never feel heartbreak like it again. But here I am, with my heart splintering all over once more.
I retreat, stumbling backward, my heart racing against its cage, desperately seeking the safety of a wall to shield me while I survey my surroundings.
I spot a set of double doors to my left, their dark polished wood accented with elaborate warm, golden filigree. Not the odd sheen of sanguimetal that usually permeates this place. It’s less grandiose compared to the ballroom I’d just been in. The toned-down decor of this part of the castle suggests this area to be more private, away from meddling eyes and the war in the main hall.
Where those doors lead, I don’t know. But I risk it anyway. I take off with a burst of energy, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I propel myself toward them.
Footsteps pound behind me as Az gives chase, tearing after me.
It’s over in twenty yards.
Without magic of my own to fuel my speed, he captures me within moments, his powerful arms encircling my waist and pulling me back against his chest. The grieving part of me wants to sink into his warmth and chase away the ache.
Instead, I kick and shriek as my fingernails rake the tattooed skin of his biceps.
“Please,” he whispers, his breath puffing against my ear as I buck my head backwards in an attempt to fight against his hold. My bright hair tangles in my face, obscuring my vision as I writhe in desperate, wild throes. His grip only tightens, his fingers digging into my side as he restrains my struggle.
I shout as my heel connects with his knee, expecting him to release me at the jolt of pain I bring, but he only hisses through gritted teeth, without letting me go.
“Stop.” He delivers the word so quietly, it barely reaches my ears. The sound unlocks something in me, tugging at the frayed edges of my defenses. A fragile part of me whispers that this could still be real, that what we had wasn’t a lie. But another part—the one drowning in betrayal—can’t help but wonder how long he and his father had been planning this. Was every touch, every word, every stolen moment with me carefully calculated to dismantle Aggonid? To destroy him by tearing me apart?
“Bring her to me, son.” The voice that commands from the other side of the room chills me to my bones and seizes the air in my lungs. It’s only a moment before my panic takes over again.
“Don’t.” I struggle in his grip, twisting to face Az, but his hold locks me in place. “Please don’t do this!” My string of words comes out brittle, laced with hysteria.
I need to get back to them—to Caius, to Wilder, to Emeric, to Aggonid. They’re fighting for me, tearing through his father’s guards with everything they have, and I’ve never needed them more than I do right now. My bond with them pulses, quiet but steady, like a lifeline dragging me toward them even as Az holds me captive once again.
Azazel hesitates for a moment before he pulls away, his touch lingering on my waist as he takes a step back. I turn to face him, a thread of confused, tentative relief blooming inside me. Had it all been a dream?
But then I watch as his eyes track where his shirt hangs to my knees. I hate that it smells like him. I want to pull it to my face and breathe him in, but don’t. His eyes skim over me before narrowing, his grip tightening as he clamps a hand around my arm, hauling me toward his father.
“You bastard!” I scream as I reel backwards, unable to find purchase as my heels slip on the polished floor.
I drop all my weight and wrench free from his grip, tumbling to the hard floor with a harsh thud. Yanking on his ankle, I try to get him to trip, but I have no magic to match his strength. Unshaken, he reaches down to scoop me under my arms as I kick and flail against him. As though I weigh nothing, he hoists me over his wide shoulder, banding his arm around my thighs.
My fingers claw at the bare skin of his back as I shout, “Let me go! You bastard!” My teeth sink into his flank, and he grunts as his blood fills my mouth, metallic and sweet. But his pace doesn’t falter, despite my attacks.
The scent of his natural cologne—a spiced aroma—along with the faint smell of sanguimetal, fills my nose as I bounce against him. My hair dangles to the marble under his feet, but he’s careful not to get caught on it.
“Flirting with me, Firefly?” he coos. His strides are long as I’m jostled on his shoulder. “I do love it when you bite me. But not as much as you love it when I bite you, hmm?”
The mockery in his tone stabs like a blade, twisting deeper with every step he takes towards his father.
“Only because your stupid magic makes me get off, you fucking asshole!”
His father chuckles as we eat up the distance to him. “A few nights with me and I’ll have all that fight fucked right out of her.”
Fear, hot and sharp, blazes through me.
Azazel would never let his father. He’d die before letting that happen.
My mate stumbles, his steps faltering for a moment before he can recover. His muscles tense before Az sets me down gently, yet his hands remain firm on my shoulders, a barrier between his father and me. His grip tightens while I crane my neck around his towering frame, betrayal burning through me as my eyes clash with his father's cold stare.
“I’d rather fuck a chainsaw than ever get your shriveled dick anywhere near me.” I seethe, taking pleasure in the flare of rage in his dad’s eyes.
With a huff, I maneuver around Az, positioning myself directly in front of the king. Now nothing stands between us.
“That can be arranged, too.” He stares me down as Az shuffles me behind him again. I try to skirt around him and open my mouth to hurl another insult, but the words die before they can escape. A faint buzz of magic coils around my throat, locking my voice away as I turn fury-filled eyes to Az.
The fucking asshole is using a silencing charm on me!
He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he takes on a bored disposition as he idly picks at something on his sleeve. His feet shift, and I can get a better look at his father when he contorts his back to heal the bite I gave him.
Cruel amusement colors the king’s features as he takes me in. A mocking grin tips his lips, and I want to wipe it right off his stupid face. The face that has no business looking so much like his son’s. The longer I glare at it, the more the faint lines around his eyes seem to mimic Azazel’s when he laughs, a cruel twist of fate that makes my heart clench with both sorrow and rage.
I may not be able to speak for the next few minutes, but I’m not entirely defenseless. Heaving a deep breath, I spit a mouthful of Az’s blood onto his father’s cheek, watching as it streaks across his tanned skin. He flinches when it lands, and he throws his head back and laughs, the sound rolling ominously through the hall around us, as if the walls themselves recoil at his amusement.
He lowers his head slowly, his eyes locking on mine with a chilling intensity. “You will regret that.” He chuckles as he wipes at it with his sleeve. “I ought to chain you to the rafters while I fuck you into submiss?—”
“—Father,” Az interrupts, turning to face me but still speaking over his shoulder to the king. “We must leave the castle before they find us. You can toy with her another time.”
King Valtorious's eyes narrow, the laughter fading as he levels his son with a frosty stare. His fingers twitch at his side, clearly restraining the urge to strike or blast me with magic. "Fine." He spits the word out like a curse. His attention trains on me, the look predatory. "So much fire in those veins. I can’t wait to taste it.”
I sneer at him, stepping forward until I’m nearly chest-to-chest with Azazel, daring him to stop me. Before I can react further, his father’s hand clamps down on both our shoulders, and we’re ripped from the castle. The air twists and howls around me, violent and agonizing, as if reality itself is being torn apart. This isn’t the smooth, seamless transition I’ve come to expect. It’s rough, jarring, like being dragged through shards of glass.
And then, silence.