Chapter 39
Absolutely Feral
“Saffron keeps his secrets well. What we do know is this: his prized warrior, his most loyal weapon, is the one who calls him father.”
— Marker Dane, Lord of Lawship
Payn may have cursed blood magic, but even that has its limits. He was here.
I practically flew up the wide, white staircase before crossing the theater. I ran to exactly where his balcony seats were, searching the booth and area around it. Hissing and cursing.
There was no trace of him anywhere.
I wasn’t in his camp anymore. We were in my territory, and he was not going to walk around freely as a danger to this city. Much less mock me by showing his arrogant face after what he’d done to the woodland village.
The Sapphires had taken enough.
Clenching my fists, I hurried back down the stairs, checking for hair white as the full moon and an audacity as prevalent as muckbumps in brothels.
The main level was crowded with people parading around in their fineries, gathering drinks and mingling with other socialites. I pushed through, dragging my dress along and securing my tiara.
I spotted him sliding out the front door, unnoticed by anyone else. I didn’t want to start a panic or stampede, so I kept my mouth shut as the stage lights flickered, signaling everyone back to their seats.
I couldn’t let Saffron’s son roam free in the capital.
Lady Jocelynn would have to forgive me for missing the end of the show.
I knew the contents anyway, except for the bit about Queen Delaina’s bed already being filled.
She probably didn’t even wait for my brother to be cold in the ground before taking another lover.
Keeping my head low among the intoxicated guests, I exited the theater and began searching the streets.
Just a block ahead, Payn strolled away with his hands casually in his pockets.
As if his family hadn’t invaded and taken over Lestivia.
As if they hadn’t been killing innocent people in Drakington or targeting defenseless victims in the Waywards as a power source.
As if he hadn’t tied me up in a tree to piss in a corner for days and killed my friends.
I picked up the pace, my blood heating. This piece of shit had killed an entire village of women. Now he just waltzed about the streets of my brother's kingdom with no fear.
As I closed the distance between us, I reached for Singer.
He stopped, turning to face me.
Singer was not at my hip.
I’d left the stone club on my nightstand, along with the orb. All because I hadn’t wanted them to clash with my outfit.
Plan B.
I reared my fist back and sent it soaring towards his face. He caught it, grasping my wrist and staring me down with dark red eyes.
“You didn’t ask permission to touch me, Blackheart.”
I bared my teeth and yanked out of his hold. “You didn’t ask permission to walk on Castivian land.” I grabbed a small rock from the ground and threw it, striking him in the chest.
He didn’t react at all.
He stepped closer as I stepped back, searching for another rock. “I don’t waste my consideration on what lands Xavian Steele thinks he’s entitled to. Hit me again, or even attempt to, and there will be consequences.”
The only one who would be facing consequences was him, and one day, his father too.
My palms darkened, poison surging through my veins. He’d killed Sitara. He’d killed them all.
I held my hands out, shrieking as venom exploded from my pores. I’d never allowed such a release before. It sprayed all over his chest, eating away at his black suit.
Payn shook his head, snowy hair glowing under the moonlight.
I was panting, but nowhere near done with him.
“I already told you, you can’t hurt me. I spent a lot of time building up a tolerance, just for you. I did a lot for you, but that matters little now, doesn’t it?”
“Damn you!” I yelled, bringing both fists to his chest, beating the poison against him. It melted his shirt off thread by thread, revealing his sculpted chest. Had he cheated to get his build too? Was anything about him real, or was it all blood magic?
He grabbed me by the shoulders as I bashed my venom-covered hands against him like a rabid dog.
“Stop it,” he growled.
I screamed, pushing his hands away.
“Stop—”
I clocked him in the jaw, silencing him with my knuckles. My hand erupted with pain.
He rubbed his face, noting the blood dripping from his lip.
I reared back once more, but I wasn’t fast enough. He swiped his leg against the back of mine, tripping me backwards. My tiara flew off my head, clanking against the cobblestone.
I winced as I hit the ground, my ears ringing.
Flaring my nostrils, I forced myself up, pointing a finger at him as if it were a deadly weapon.
“You are an ugly, sniveling little bitch stuck under your father’s heel!” I shouted, enraged that my Nature, for once, was harmless.
His skin remained pristine, not a single burn or any sign of trauma. He should’ve been dead after the amount of poison I had unleashed.
“What did you just say to me?” he hissed.
I smiled. “I said, you’re an ugly, sniveling little—”
Prince Payn grabbed my chin, forcing me to face him. His lips skimmed my nose. “Stop.”
“No,” I spat. “You’re a murderer, and I hate you.”
“You killed Vyra, and I don’t care if you hate me. You fail to appreciate that I was the only one protecting your identity. If anyone in that village would’ve exposed you, you’d be dead right now, or at least, I’d have killed a lot more people on your behalf.”
Letting go of my face, he stepped back and pulled away the lingering pieces of fabric attached to his torso and arms.
I picked up another rock, this one smaller than the last, but I didn’t care. I aimed at his head. Unfortunately, he caught it. Rearing his arm back and turning around, he sent it soaring so far it might’ve landed in the ocean.
When he turned back to me, he was practically steaming.
“You act like a lowborn brat, and you’re gullible. I hope you realize that.”
He walked towards a street of houses. Once again, the audacity was appalling. I’d spent years locked away because of people's fear of me, just to have him mock me to my face as if I were harmless.
“What do you mean?”
He ripped a shirt off a clothesline, then continued down the street.
“I meant what I said.”
“I’m not gullible.”
He scoffed and grinned. “Yeah, that’s why you’re not in your little seat at the theater next to the Oathkeeper. Instead, you’re chasing me down the street.”
Payn was the one confused. I was out here to kill him, not chase him. “I’m not letting you go.”
He stopped, giving me an incredulous glare. “I think it’s clear my proposal is no longer on the table.”
“I’m not letting you live, dumbass.”
He crossed his arms, amused. “And how exactly, are you going to kill me?”
However I needed to.
I mimicked the motions people had used during the midwinter games, bringing my hands together to form a black and violet ball of my own Nature. It was working, although my hold on the floating sphere of venom was somewhat unsteady, and was more egg-shaped.
“Elora… that’s enough.”
My arms were shaking just controlling the weight of the ball, but dammit, I was going to figure out how to throw it. I tried raising my arms above my head to fling it, but they gave out, splashing the poison all over the ground, barely missing my own head. I cursed and started again.
I rapidly formed another misshapen orb, sweat beading down my forehead.
He pulled a small glass vial out of his pocket and took a sip of blood.
Maybe he was intimidated and needed to fuel up for a fight. Perhaps he wasn’t so invincible after all.
The orb wobbled dangerously. I had a clear shot at his head.
Payn vanished for all of a second before he was breathing down the back of my neck. “I said, that’s enough.”
I screamed, twisting and splashing the venom straight into his face. Black ink stained his pristine hair, dripping from his forehead and chin.
His nostrils flared, red eyes glowing with a promise of violence. I brought my hands together again, ready to form another ball, when he wrapped both of his arms around me, holding me up to face him. His breath was nearly as unsteady as mine as a streak of black ran down his cheek.
“I didn’t come here to fight you.”
“Then why did you come?”
As I tried to thrash out of his hold, he held on tighter, commanding me to meet his eyes.
“I’ve been fighting wars for the past ten summers.
My youth was sacrificed to conquer Lestivia and other western isles.
We both only have so many of our good years left.
If you and your brother surrender Castivian now, my father and I can handle Delaina and the Drakers.
War can be avoided. We don’t need to waste years and bloodshed. ”
I cackled. Bloodshed? As if he didn’t have vials of blood in his pockets. He was delusional if he thought Xavian, or anyone in their right mind, would hand over a kingdom to Saffron the Blood Bather.
“The people of Castivian prefer their blood in their own bodies. Are you truly heartless? You’ve already ruined thousands of lives in Lestivia. You need to do it in all three kingdoms on this side of the world?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know me.”
“And I don’t plan to,” I hissed, bringing my teeth to his neck, biting down hard.
He pushed me off, wincing and holding his neck. “No wonder they caged you,” he gritted out. “You act like an animal.”
With his blood on my tongue, my lips smelled of his skin—a mixture of roses, rain, and regret. The taste was addicting, like the first time hearing a new favorite song. I frowned, ashamed. It must’ve been an effect of the blood magic.
He had to be dealt with before he disappeared again and hurt other people. Frantically, I started throwing every bit of poison within my bloodstream. One hand at a time, I formed palm-sized orbs, barreling them at his head.
He dodged them, stepping aside and ducking. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” he warned.