Chapter Forty-Five
Vanessa
“Does he do this often?” I squeaked as Vil disappeared up the shaft to put an end to the fighting in his monstrous armored form.
“No,” Cruce said, sounding just as stunned by what had happened. “Just on special occasions.”
I wheeled on him. “What?”
“A joke,” he said, head still craned upward. “I didn’t know this was possible. Or a thing. There are, like, stories from way back when, closer to the founding of the four clans, of the Iron Protector. But they make that out to be just a singular dragon born of extreme skill. Not … that.”
He pointed upward helplessly.
“Let me out of here!” Adamantine shouted from where he struggled helplessly against the steel bonds. “Right now! Let me go!”
Cruce and I exchanged glances.
“No,” we said in unison.
Adamantine sputtered and protested, but my eyes were drawn upward once again at the sound of air being swooped.
Vil’s giant form was descending down the shaft, only stopping to slow his descent with a powerful flex of his wings every so often.
When he landed, the room shook slightly, but he quickly settled into a crouch, arms outstretched.
The layers and layers of steel peeled off him like liquid, flowing out and back into the room, up the walls, and once more covering the ceiling.
The signs etched into the walls and roof glowed brightly at first but then faded into dull nothingness.
“You,” Vil growled, pointing a finger and advancing on Adamantine.
The former head of the Nine looked everywhere but at his approaching doom, his eyes bulging out of his head, the whites easily visible. He blabbered incoherently, squirming wildly to try to get free, but Vil’s restraints held him firm.
“The Nine is no more,” Vil commanded, a sword sprouting from his right hand, the blade gleaming wickedly even in the dim light. “It is disbanded and will never again be a part of this clan.”
“You can’t do that!” Adamantine shouted. “You can’t!”
“I just did,” Vil ground out. “I am the prince. This is my clan. Not yours. I rule here.”
“P-please,” Adamantine said, begging. “Please. I was just doing what I thought was best.”
Vil was quiet for a moment, and I watched him, waiting for the hammer to fall.
“So am I,” he said so softly I barely heard it.
The blade came up and around in a blur, headed for Adamantine’s neck. I braced myself, closing my eyes, knowing I didn’t want to see the end of another dragon.
But the pathetic cries for mercy never stopped. There was no snick as the sword sliced his throat. No gurgle as Adamantine bled and died. Nothing.
I opened my eyes to see that Vil had stopped, the blade of his sword hovering inches from the quivering Adamantine, tears streaming down his face, snot dripping from his nose.
The sword melted back into Vil’s arm, and he turned to face me, a crooked smile on his face.
“I suppose prison would suit you just as well as death,” he mused thoughtfully.
“That way, you can see how everything is working out just fine without you. That the Iron Clan will be prosperous and united, and it’s all thanks to you in the end.
Except you won’t be a part of it. You will be the evil that they all regret and avoid.
The bogeyman cursed for generations. That is your sentence. ”
I smiled back at my mate.
“It doesn’t always have to be about death,” he said, coming over to me.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You didn’t protest.”
“This is your place,” I said. “I would have accepted your judgment.”
“But you wouldn’t have liked it.”
I shook my head. “If you’d killed him in battle, that’s one thing. But this would have been a slaughter. It is different, even if, on some level, I agree that he deserves it. You’re better for this, my love.”
He smiled and leaned in to kiss me, while in the background, Adamantine bleated about being sorry and not prison, not solitary, he’ll do anything.
“Do you mind if I at least knock him out, so he shuts up?” Cruce whined.
“Go for it,” I murmured around Vil’s lips.
There was a distinctive smack of flesh on flesh and then silence.
“Ahhh,” Vil sighed.
I thought for a moment he would pick me up and haul me off to his room to fuck me, but instead, he took my hand.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he led the way from the room.
“The prince and his princess have returned,” he said. “It’s time the people of the Iron Fortress and the Iron Clan know that we are here and ready to serve them. And it’s time they met you.”
I groaned. “Another ball?”
Vil laughed. “Nope.”
“Okay, good,” I said, sagging with relief as the dread of another formal event where I had to learn everyone’s name and be stared at for hours fled me.
“This time, it’s our coronation ceremony. Held without delay!”
Ahh, crap.
“Hey, Vil,” I said thoughtfully as we walked.
“What’s that, my love?” he asked, looking down at me, beaming from ear to ear.
“Do you think the coronation could double as a wedding? I never got that real one.”
“A wedding coronation?” he mused. “We don’t have weddings here, you know. But I suppose most of us know what they are.”
“Good,” I said. “It’s settled.”
“It is?”
“I’m the princess, and I said so,” I explained. “So yes, I think it is.”
Vil cackled though he shook his head.
“What is it, my dear?” I asked, leaning my head against his arm briefly.
“I think,” he said, still laughing slightly, “that I’m just beginning to realize how much trouble I’ve gotten myself into by being with you.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, looking up and batting my eyes at him, “but you’re forgetting one important thing.”
“And what’s that?” he asked dryly.
I grinned wickedly. “The wedding night.”