Chapter 2
Killian
Shit.
She almost caught me just now.
I should have no business lurking outside her chambers in the dead of night, not after everything.
I’ve been saying loud and clear that I want nothing to do with her. She withheld the truth from me, from all of us, feeding me only bits and pieces of her story, conveniently forgetting to mention the precarious parts that would have made all the difference.
Who the hell am I kidding, though?
My mind might blame her for the blow we took when her evil twin infiltrated the castle under false pretenses and went on a killing rampage, freeing her onpyr minions from the dungeons.
But my stupid heart doesn’t give a shit.
Nor do my shadows.
I knew it was a bad idea to keep her around.
I wanted her to vanish out of sight, out of mind.
Blaise was supposed to free her from the Osmynium cuffs and send her away wherever she wanted to go.
But yet again, Fate had other plans. I’m starting to resent this Fate bitch, and if I ever get my hands on such a higher power that plays with me like I’m the midnight entertainment, I’ll wring its fucking neck.
It wasn’t enough that I fell in love with the treacherous sister of my nemesis.
No.
She had to go and be the real Foretold One.
The only one who can help me vanquish Morweena from the face of this realm.
And to add insult to injury, Morweena wormed her way into the highest ranks of the Fae court.
As sweet-faced Aurora Vaureghain, she married the Fae prince Noahlin, and just became fucking Queen once he received the throne from his father.
So now we’re against the Fae and the onpyrs. Just fucking great!
And we’re stuck together, Aimee and I. The prophecy makes sure of that. A prophecy I thought I understood, but now Akaoridamn if I know which way is up anymore.
I plop down on a velvet settee, a goblet of bloodwine dangling from my fingertips. I hate how it tastes, but it’s the only thing remotely taking the edge off.
She even ruined the taste of blood for me.
Aimee.
I had to have a taste of her essence, like the dumbass fool I am. She tasted of summer and rain, like joy and sublimity. My fangs start burning just at the thought of it.
The blood trickling down my chin startles me from my spiraling thoughts. How far gone am I that I didn’t even notice the pang of pain from biting my lip so hard?
My thumb glides over ripped skin, but I don’t bother myself to wipe the blood away. I enjoy suffering just a little too much.
I deserve it.
For moping around after the female who blindsided me. Willingly or unwillingly, it does not matter.
I should not be consumed with thoughts of her at any Akaoridamn moment.
Day or night, she’s in my head.
In my blood.
In my fucking soul.
My obsession knows no bounds. I hate her and love her with such vexatious intensity that I want to both burn down the realm for her and burn her with it.
I keep making a fool of myself because of her. Whenever she talks to Blaise or Nella, I strain my hypersensitive hearing to get a whisper of her voice. I dream of her constantly. More than once, I’ve ended up at her fucking door at ungodly hours. My shadows rage against my skin incessantly.
I have to pour all my focus into keeping my shadow self at bay. Like a frothing at the mouth rabid dog on a leash. To say my symbiotic relationship with my shadows is strained at the moment would be the understatement of the century.
And Blaise irks me to no end. He’s taken it upon himself to be her white knight in shining armor.
Always by her side, lifting her spirits, helping her train, bad-mouthing me.
I almost had an aneurysm earlier this evening while eavesdropping, hearing them moan and grunt in the training hall.
They sounded like they were fucking, not fighting, and I was seconds away from barging in and breaking every bone in his idiotic body.
If he thinks he can swoop in and steal my female, he’s got an excruciatingly painful, centuries-long death coming for him.
If that is not obsession, I don’t know what is.
She’s nothing of mine.
Not anymore.
She probably never was. But I can’t make my soul take the fucking hint.
I drain the remaining bloodwine and reach for the decanter to pour some more, when a knock reverberates through the heavy silence, breaking me from my downward spiral into despair.
“Enter,” I say in a gruff voice. Who the hell is bothering me at this hour?
The door opens with a creak, and both Mattya and his brother Axel scurry inside. They’ve both climbed in ranks recently, after Marhus and so many other warriors perished in the stand-off with Morweena, and they’re still squeamish around me.
Mattya is trembling slightly as he gathers his wits to speak, while baby-faced Axel dons a stoic expression that hardens his boyish features. He was only seventeen when he was turned, and his gangly youth remains forever etched on his face.
“My King,” Mattya says with a shaky voice. “Blaise sent word for us to come to you directly with any significant news before he departed.”
“Departed?” I frown as I had no clue he’d left. “Where did he go?”
Mattya visibly blanches and starts stammering, while Axel elbows him in the ribs.
“He, uhm, well, he—uhm, left…”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Axel butts in, rolling his eyes at his brother so hard I can see the whites. “He left for Ryawarath a few hours ago. He said he has an extraction operation in Annerough.”
My ears perk up at the sound of that. What the hell is Blaise doing, going back to the border town where he found Aimee in?
“Actually, his factual words were: Got to kidnap a sunshine for kitty cat,” Axel continues unperturbed.
“Axel!” Mattya hisses, tugging his brother’s arm.
“What? That’s what he said. The Fae girl sent him to retrieve her friend.” Axel shrugs as if this conversation is boring the hell out of him. I like this spunky kid.
So Blaise is now Aimee’s errand boy, and he didn’t even have the decency to inform me of his plans.
My teeth clench in dismay. I should give him an earful, but I already know he won’t give a shit.
It’s clear where his allegiance lies. He might be my second-in-command, but he is her friend above all else.
Or at least I hope it is friendship that guides his actions and not something more.
Jealousy prickles my skin like heated needles before I contain it.
Fuck.
“I see. And what news do you bring me?” I ask, changing the subject. It’s better for all our sakes if I don’t dwell right now on Blaise’s actions or hidden motivations.
“A missive from Reweroth, my King.” Mattya hands me a rolled-up scroll sealed with the human leadership crest. “From Lady Celine and Lady Kahlya.”
I snatch up the scroll and dismiss them with a flick of my fingers.
“You can go now.”
I don’t lift my gaze from the piece of parchment I’m unfolding, but I listen to their retreating steps and bickering.
“Why do you always have to be so blunt, Axel?” Mattya whisper-yells at his younger brother as they walk down the hallway.
“Why do you have to be such a pussy, mmm?” Axel answers, and I snicker at their antics before returning my focus to the letter in hand.
With the Fae and onpyrs banded against us, it’s painstakingly clear a realm-wide war is upon us, and I need to secure an alliance with the humans.
They’re extremely closed off and private and have never officially taken a side between the Fae and vampires since they fled to their island across the Vrokdiff Sea, forging their kingdom.
But the time for neutrality has come to an end. It’s either fight or await impending doom.
No middle ground anymore.
As I read the handwritten words in a flourished calligraphy, my shoulders sag in both relief and annoyance.
The human queens—no, leaders, as they don’t like to be called queens—have accepted meeting in person to discuss a potential coalition. But they want me to bring the Foretold One. They’ve extended an invitation to me and Aimee to join them in Reweroth.
Non-negotiable.
They want to see a united front between the prophesied saviors of Imiryion before they agree to anything further. We either go there together, or I don’t go at all.
The problem is we’re anything but united at the moment.
My molars grind against each other in frustration.
How is this cursed female getting under my skin so badly, not only in matters of the heart, but now in politics as well?
I have no choice but to break the silent treatment and ask her to join me in this endeavor.
I’m not worried she’ll refuse. She wants her sister gone; that much I can begrudgingly admit.
I’m worried about what spending time in forced proximity with her will do to my already fraying sanity.
“Maybe you should forgive her. Make amends,” my traitorous inner voice whispers, and my shadows jump at the chance to second that, pushing to break free from my skin and swirl their way to her.
Fuck my eternal undead life.
I violently tug and rein in my powers.
This Reweroth affair will be a shitshow; I already know it.
But for the sake of saving the world from ruination, it must be done.