Chapter Fourteen
Daxton Aegaeon
I watched my wife carefully as her emotions spiraled from shock and awe to confusion.
“Skylar, she’s your—”
“I know.”
“Did you hear me?” Princess Réalta asked, her grip tightening on Skylar. “You need to—”
Castor stepped in behind her. “We know.”
The princess blinked, shaking her head. “Then why did you come?”
Why did we purposely enter a kingdom allied with our enemy? Well, that was simple. We needed to assess their defenses, identify their weaknesses, and test their strength. Every fortress had a flaw, and if peace failed, we needed to know where to strike.
We anticipated this as a trap.
But we hadn’t expected her to warn us.
Minaeve never experienced the full extent of my abilities. At the first flicker of danger, I could teleport us from this marble tomb and back to the deck of the Opal. The ship was already gliding far from Zircon’s shores.
That was the plan, at least.
Skylar’s eyes met mine. Beneath her calm mask, I saw the truth, the fire coiling under her skin and the flicker of gold deep in her irises. She was holding the phoenix at bay, holding herself steady, for now.
“Réalta,” Skylar said softly. “You know the truth… Don’t you?”
“Bold of you to ask that.”
“She’s warning us, Daxton.”
The princess’s throat worked as she nodded. “She lied to us.” Her voice broke on the words. “All of it—my father, the court, everyone believed her. Believed that shifters killed my aunt, but now I see that it’s not true. This war with the shifters was all based on false facts from the start.”
Her gaze dropped to the bite mark on my mate’s neck.
“My aunt was claimed,” Réalta whispered, her tone half awe, half horror. “By a shifter. Not killed.”
A pulse of heat rolled through the room. The phoenix stirring beneath Skylar’s skin was on the verge of breaking free. I reached my magic out to calm her flames, allowing the ice to trickle along her flesh to cool her wrath at the past accusations against her kind.
“She was claimed as a mate by my father, Emery Cathal, the alpha of the Solace pack.”
Réalta’s lips parted, a thousand questions caught behind her eyes. But before she could speak, the rhythm of boots echoed down the corridor.
Skylar turned her head slightly toward the sound, her expression sharpening.
“Someone’s coming,” Rhea said, her voice lacking its usual confidence.
Réalta’s face went pale. “You have to leave. Minaeve means to make an example of you both and kill you to incite war.”
I felt my pulse pound, rage building in my chest—an example. The words seared through me like a blade. No one threatened my mate. Not in front of me. Not ever.
Castor shifted, stepping closer to us. “The Opal is ready. Just say the word.”
Skylar exhaled, eyes still on the doors ahead. Heat shimmered around her, the faint scent of smoke rising from her skin. “Not yet.”
“Skylar,” I said, the growl in my voice vicious, but her gaze snapped to mine—unwavering and commanding.
“Not. Yet,” she said aloud, then separately to only me, “We’ll make a stand together, Daxton.”
“We’re with you, Skylar,” Talon said.
Rhea nodded in agreement.
Trusting my mate’s judgment on this matter, I said, “Lead the way to the throne room, Princess Réalta.”
The doors at the end of the hall slammed open, and the air itself felt heavier, thick with the scent of incense and polished stone. Soldiers poured in like a tide of steel and fury on all sides, weapons at the ready if called into action. I took note of every blade, every arrow, every warrior.
Castor’s eyes darted across the room, likely analyzing the different escape routes and the strength of their forces gathered. Talon and Rhea flanked their alpha, instinctively protecting her in case any threat dared to sneak past my steel.
My boots echoed against the polished stone until I reached the scarlet carpet, the red so rich it almost seemed to pulse beneath my feet.
The walls were draped in tapestries of ruby fire, golden threads catching the light as if the legends stitched into them were alive.
Each flickering torch along the walls marked with gold accents shimmered, and I felt a strange mix of awe and tension settle in my chest.
At the end of the hall, on the raised dais, stood the human king.
“Father.” The princess bowed before rising to climb the steps at her father’s side.
I was impressed with her mask of deception. There was no hint of fear or concern on her features. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume everything was going according to their plan.
“Ah, welcome, High King Daxton and Alpha Queen Skylar,” King Taran said, rising from his golden throne.
I didn’t trust the human king. Even if the princess hadn’t confessed to the trap being set, I could sense in my bones that something wasn’t right here. It was too quiet, too organized, like our presence would soon be a blip in the text recording human history.
I inclined my head slightly, a gesture of respect but not submission. “King Taran. Your hall and kingdom are magnificent. Thank the gods the wilt did not harm your lands as they did the Inner Kingdom.”
He smiled thinly. “Thank you, High King. But in truth, our lands to the west felt the impact of the wilt the most this past year. Burns City barely supplied enough food this past winter.”
“One winter,” Castor muttered under his breath. “Try surviving five hundred winters with the wilt on your border.”
Talon cleared his throat in warning, while Skylar and I kept our attention on the king.
“I lead a kingdom that shares a border with it,” I said, my voice even. “I understand the devastation this dark magic can bring.”
Skylar’s hand brushed my arm in a silent warning. However, I didn’t need her warning to sense the tension rising. The faint rustle of armor behind the throne. The too-casual stance of the guards. I saw it all.
I met Taran’s eyes again. “Shall we speak plainly, Your Majesty? Or will we keep skirting behind this false veil of hospitality?”
His smile didn’t falter, but something cold flashed behind it. “Plainly, then. As kings do.”
The tension in the room thickened—quiet, yet full of danger.
A handle turned on a door off to the side of the throne. “Ah, yes, come and join us,” Taran said, his smile anything but kind as his gaze turned to my mate.
I held my breath, anticipating Minaeve, but what entered was far worse.
A human male entered the throne room, wearing robes of deep cobalt blue, with slanted eyes and jet-black hair. I recognized him not by sight, but by his scent.
Skylar stiffened beside me.
“Spitfire?”
Her rage hit me all at once. It wasn’t simmering or a quiet build. It was a roaring volcano, raw and hot, flowing through the invisible tether that bound us. I could feel it in every nerve ending, every heartbeat: the memory of his cruelty, the indignity, the terror he had inflicted.
“Hello, my pet.”
“Blade,” she answered.
Her fury became mine. It pulsed through me, thundering like a rhythmic drum of vengeance. Every thought of control I had vanished, replaced by a single, unshakable need to skin the human alive and watch the life drain from his gaze slowly…
Oh, ever so fucking slowly.
“He will not touch you. Not now. Not ever.”
In an instant—shorter than it took to take a breath—I vanished, reappearing on the far side of the hall. My hand closed around the hilt of Valencia, the blade humming with the same heat that coursed through Skylar’s veins.
Every ounce of hatred she carried for Blade surged into me, fueling my movements, guiding my strike. My body moved before my mind caught up, every step precise, every muscle coiled for impact. Valencia glowed in response to my magic, a reflection of my mate’s flames, ready to strike.
The pathetic excuse of a man barely had time to react.
“Skylar,” I said through the bond, a promise as much as a warning. “No one hurts you again.”
Faster than a racing heartbeat, I plunged my blade between his eyes, watching his life fade as my strike met its mark. And yet a flicker of regret burned in me that I couldn’t make his suffering last.
He deserved more.
He deserved to feel every wince of the pain he had inflicted on her, every scream, every drop of blood spilled.
“Blade was mine to kill, Daxton! His life was mine to—"
“I’m sorry, Spitfire,” I cut in. “I’m sorry his death was far too quick. But I could not allow this creature to draw another breath in your presence or utter another word to you in life or the next.”
Her silent fury radiating through our bond was answer enough.
Standing tall, I inhaled deeply, scanning my surroundings as the familiar clang of swords springing free from scabbards filled the room.
The princess was right. This hall was never meant for peace.
It was meant for blood.