4. The utioner of Life
The Executioner of Life
LEILANI
Chest heaving, a fresh bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face.
Linen blouse already dampened by it—and the blood of the thirty-two men at my feet—I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.
Their lineage tainted my skin in a thick, sticky layer, but the satisfied smile on my lips spoke of anything but sorrow.
They underestimated me.
Most people did; stupidly, of course. It was something I was used to, as my size contributed to most of the suppositions. But then there was my ethnicity, as well as the fact that I was a woman, and all three of them combined consistently served as my opponents’ downfalls.
Men idiotically believed they were impenetrable to a woman’s capabilities. More often than not, they viewed those of my sex as lacking competence and ultimately placed themselves on the highest rung of the bullshit hierarchy responsible for corrupting our continent.
Hell, I was far more competent at wielding a sword than most of the guards within the king’s innermost circle. And, dare I say it, even more deadly than Alastair was with a sharpened blade—something he would undoubtedly agree with.
He called me his little fang for a reason.
More often than not, those who stood against me with a heightened belief they were better met the consequences of their idiocy as soon as my steel nicked their flesh and a river of crimson followed.
And there was nothing I enjoyed more than watching their eyes widen in horror as they gurgled on their life force while holding my stare.
Demise by egotistical assumption was a beautiful thing.
With a harsh flick of my sword, scarlet dotted the light grey cobblestone in a speckling of death.
Sliding it back into its sheath, I adjusted the tricorne on my head.
Attention sweeping between dismembered limbs and gaping throats, I ran my tongue across my teeth.
A heightened sense of gratification swept over me, but the sudden blend of a symphony of screams halted any form of progression.
Expecting the wave of terror to make its way toward me, I was surprised when the shouts and bellows lessened in intensity. My brows furrowed. They weren’t rushing toward the main entrance; they were flocking out the back.
Why?
As if in answer to my question, or rather an additional component of confusion, honeyed locks came into view—Kael.
Clad in a pressed pair of black trousers, a white button-down, and a cream vest, he looked the epitome of a man ready to wed.
But the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion dimming his once-vibrant seafoam-blue gaze spoke of anything but.
“Kael?” I questioned, fixating on him.
Breathing rapidly, he slowed his jog as he joined me. The surrounding corpses didn’t seem to bother him. “Leilani.”
Raking my fingers through my curls in an attempt to tame them beneath the incessant breeze, I asked, “What the hell happened? Where is Rohen? Caspian? Percy?”
“Rohen ordered me out of the ballroom. She said she was going to get Caspian but told me to leave immediately for fear of what was to come.” He shook his head, his timbre wavering as a notable sadness softened his tone. “Percy is dead.”
What?
Not giving him the chance to add anything, I closed the remaining feet between us and wrapped my arms around him. Settling my head against his chest, I clutched the silken fabric of his vest. “Gods, Kael. I’m so fucking sorry.”
His swallow was audible. “I… I couldn’t save him… and I…”
Pulling away, I placed my palm on his chest. “I can feel your pain. You’re aching, and I wish there were more I could offer you other than my deepest sincerity.
” I nipped at the soft flesh of the inside of my cheek before adding, “If I could take it away, I would. But please… If there is one thing I wish for you to know, it’s that you are not alone.
It doesn’t negate what happened by any means, but you do not have to bury your grief.
” My attention lifted to meet him as I brushed my fingers through his hair. “Let us help you carry it.”
Eyes glistening, his bottom lip quivered. “Thank you, Leilani…”
“No need to thank me,” I said, offering him a saddened smile. “And call me Lani. You’re beyond propriety, beyond friendship. You’re family.”
He returned my expression, but the pain never dulled in his irises. “I’m honored, Lani.”
“Don’t flatter me, prince.” I winked, nudging him playfully in hopes that it would alleviate something—anything.
“Kael,” he corrected.
“Oh, I know.” Humming, I took a step back. “Though you are still the prince of these lands, and I will see to it that you are king. Serevalen… No, the whole continent of Wraelira needs a man like you seated on that throne.”
A fire sparked in his stare, part of me surprised by his reciprocation of such a suggestion.
“While I would be honored to rule from a place of humility, I will ensure to clean up my father’s mess.
Whether that entails me wearing a crown or not, it will be done.
” Brows narrowing, his jaw feathered. “I’ll kill them all if I need to. ”
“Conviction is a powerful tool.” Turning toward the docks, my shoulders rose with a steadying inhale.
There was still far too much for us to accomplish, far too much that could go wrong.
But if there was one thing I knew, it was that we all shared the same desire—seeing to it that the king, his rule, and the Others met their demise.
Stubbornness wove through our veins; our promises detailed vows and executed actions.
We wouldn’t sleep until the lands settled, and we wouldn’t stop fighting until we pierced the veil of darkness shrouding our realm.
We were far more powerful together, and that was something I wholeheartedly believed.
Even if Alastair wished to deny it because of his history, there were far too many things Caspian knew that gave him the upper hand.
And, without him, there was no possible way we would win the impending war, just as there was no chance he would be able to do so without numbers, without us by his side.
The fates had woven our paths together for a reason, and it was becoming clearer that the Damned had far more planned for us than we’d ever realized.
“What do you say?” Glancing over my shoulder, I extended an offering to Kael. One I knew he wouldn’t pass up. “Time to go find the rest of the crew and kick off this fucking war?”
He dipped his chin, and I didn’t miss the spike of darkness that slithered through his lagoon-colored irises. “To war,” he agreed without wavering before adding, “it’s about time we spilled some fucking blood.”