Chapter Seven #2
She wouldn’t dare let that dagger embed in her chest and carve a chunk out of her heart as Malachizrien had surely meant for the reminder to do.
She’d detested her betrothed before for purely personal reasons.
Now, it went beyond that. She loathed Rishaud with every fragment of her being, and he was a dead man walking after butchering her people.
And her father. Malachizrien clearly knew that, too.
So Kadeesha only stared back at the northern king unruffled.
“My initial question hasn’t been answered.
Get on with why we are here. Lay out, in greater detail than you did back at the temple, what trap you seek to set for Rishaud and the role I’ll play. ”
Malachizrien arched a brow. “It’s humorous you think to give me orders. We’ll get on with it when I am ready to—”
He jerked to the left when an aether bomb flew past his head.
It narrowly missed melting the skin off his face.
The fact that she’d missed at all was a vivid reminder of the terrifying swiftness she’d seen the northern king move with when he fought Rishaud.
Her aim had been dead-on, and she hadn’t given away any indication of the attack.
She knew she’d telegraphed nothing. Yet, her aether fire only grazed the tip of his ear.
Still, his vicious snarl gave Kadeesha immense satisfaction.
She brushed invisible wrinkles out of the light gold gown she was meant to be married in.
“I agreed to come here because you forced my assent under duress,” she reminded Malachizrien.
“But make no mistake, I am not a captive, nor some dog to be whipped until broken into docile compliance. So be careful, Apollyon king, with the insults you utter and the games you pla—”
Malachizrien was in her face—and then they were still walking, his presence forcing her to take several steps backward. One second he’d been atop his throne, the next second he was invading her space, forcing her body to move where he wanted it to go with his sheer size.
Her back hit the wall, and his huge callused hand gripped her throat. He didn’t choke the life out of her, but he did exert enough pressure to make a point. His darkened gaze damn near vaporized her as he towered over her.
This son of a bitch really believed he could intimidate her? No. His Royal Assholeness truly didn’t know who she was. So she smiled, and it was one that promised she’d rip out his throat with her teeth, challenging him to come within striking range.
Malachizrien chuckled. It was a deep, arrogant sound that suffused the room. “I’d love to see you try,” he murmured.
“How eloquent,” she gritted out between labored breathing.
“Good to know you’re all muscle and no actual smarts.
” She smiled wider at the affront that flashed in his stare.
She filed the knowledge away that the Apollyon king didn’t like having his intelligence questioned and made a mental note to do it often while she was at court.
She’d agreed to aid him and be the bait he needed to finish off Rishaud, but she’d never agreed to be well-behaved or meek bait.
Malachizrien had, after all, used her and set her up in a way that got her court slaughtered.
For that, she’d be returning the favor any and every way she could think of.
The pressure around her throat increased, the veins in Malachizrien’s forearm bulging beneath his dark skin. “Individuals within my own court have died for less,” he informed her.
“And yet … you … need … me,” she managed to spit out. “So … you … won’t … really … kill me … for now.”
Another chuckle followed, yet the pressure didn’t ease. “Need is a strong word. It’s ideal to use you to get at Rishaud, but I am a resourceful, exceedingly smart man. I can sketch out an alternative if need be, Princess. The prophecy dies if you do, remember.”
A cough sounded from behind Malachizrien.
Exercising what little movement his iron grip allowed, Kadeesha craned her neck to just barely see over his shoulder.
His cousin Trystin was leaning forward on his throne.
His elbows rested on his knees and his hands were folded under his chin as he peered at her and Malachizrien in amusement. Nychelle simply looked bored.
“Nephew.” Nychelle’s word was toneless. It carried neither the authority of a command nor the beseechment of a plea. But Malachizrien immediately released Kadeesha all the same.
“If you move to attack me in my own home again, you die,” he told her plainly, and then turned and strode for the dais.
Her throat burned like she’d swallowed flames.
However, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of rubbing where it hurt worst to ease the ache.
Not when she was quickly seeing that, much like the way of the southern monarchs, everything Malachizrien did held a message.
A purpose. And the message he snarled at her by turning his back to her and then stalking away was clear: You are no threat.
Her hands clenched at her sides as he ascended the dais and settled onto his throne again. “Now that the most important point has been stressed,” the northern king said smoothly, “you are before us because my auntie would like a word.”
“I would,” said Nychelle, eyeing Kadeesha with …
something other than disdain or rage at attempting regicide against her nephew.
If Kadeesha didn’t know better, she’d say Nychelle now regarded her with interest. The queen mother rose from her throne, the gauzy skirt of her blue gown swishing around her legs.
A thick braid encircled her head to cast a halo effect, and a silver circlet inlaid with smooth onyx stones rested atop it to add to the look.
Her gown was sleeveless and her cleavage ample.
Silver arm cuffs and bangles decorated both her arms. Kadeesha took all these details in because she couldn’t look away from the queen mother as Nychelle descended the steps of the dais.
It wasn’t her near-painful beauty that was so enthralling.
It was something more potent—her very deportment.
The very aura that composed who she was, for even the air around Nychelle seemed to still in awe of the woman as she moved.
Nychelle stopped directly in front of Kadeesha.
She reached out a hand and fingered the capped sleeve of Kadeesha’s wedding dress.
“I know from rumors that you didn’t desire to marry that brute of a man,” Nychelle said.
“But tell me, dear, do you actually desire to be married at all?”
Kadeesha blinked. She hadn’t expected that question. “No.” Her shock made her answer Nychelle truthfully. “I am the heir of the Aether Kingdom. I wish to continue to be its heir and the general of my squadron.”
Nychelle raised a brow as if she didn’t believe Kadeesha’s words. “You didn’t want the exalted title that marrying Rishaud would’ve bestowed upon you? You didn’t want to be the Hyperion high queen? Many women, most women, within the southern lands would kill for the chance, no?”
“No,” Kadeesha affirmed. “Not me. Especially when all of Rishaud’s former queens have been killed.
I don’t wish to pay for the honor of being the Hyperion queen, or even high queen, for a handful of years with my life.
Even if I could tolerate Rishaud, the cost is too steep,” Kadeesha answered, uncertain where the queen mother was going with her questions.
Dropping her hand from Kadeesha’s sleeve, Nychelle nodded.
“Smart girl. Fierce too,” she added with an appreciative lilt to her voice, although Kadeesha bristled a bit at the idea that she needed her affirmation about who or what she was.
A reaction that Kadeesha thought the queen mother noticed, because a small smile appeared when she said, “Which is why I asked to chat with you.”
“Care to elaborate on what that reason is?”
“I wanted to talk because I believe my nephew, though a shrewd king, has been shortsighted in his initial negotiations where you are concerned.”
“Which means …?” asked Kadeesha warily.
“You left a mother, one of the now-dead king’s concubines, back at the Aether Court, yes?”
Kadeesha blinked at the abrupt change in subject. “Why is my mother any of your concern?” she gritted out.
“Tell me,” Nychelle probed, “what fate do you think will befall your mother now that your father, her generous benefactor, is dead?”
Kadeesha fought to keep her temper in check and not jump to unproven conclusions. “Are you threatening my mother?”
“I assure you, I am doing nothing of the sort,” said Nychelle coolly.
“I am merely expressing a curiosity I hold about the workings of your court when there is a transfer of power. Do your people value their women, Archprincess? Especially elder women, known for their entanglements with and loyalty to the old king?”
“My mother will fare fine,” Kadeesha said in a tone as bland as Nychelle’s.
She wouldn’t speak it out loud, but that was mostly because there would be no transfer of power yet.
Sylas had died with Kadeesha as his sole heir.
She might not be around currently to take up the mantle that belonged to her by birthright, but Samira and Leisha were still in the Aether Kingdom and would tell her people where she was and the reason for her absence …
“And what of the Hyperion king?” Nychelle asked.
She hadn’t thought of that.
“Your betrothed’s vengeful nature is widely known,” the older woman said. “Have you considered what will happen when Malachi’s plan is set in motion and Rishaud becomes enraged over Malachi flaunting you throughout the Apollyon Court? What do you imagine will become of your mother then?”