Chapter 6
DAISY
Figure it out, queenie.
He’ll be figuring out how to get my foot out of his ass if he keeps taunting me like that.
I glare at Maelkar’s smug face as he lounges at the edge of the ring with one hand in his pocket, the other resting lazily on his sword like I’m no threat at all.
How the hell am I supposed to fight someone who can vanish into shadows, hurl snarky comments like throwing knives, and still look like sin itself while I’m sweating my ass off?
Frustration builds under my skin. The strange power stirs within me, restless and wild.
I force a slow inhale through my nose, trying not to let it burst free.
I need to control myself, otherwise I could accidentally incinerate Maelkar.
And whilst he is fully pissing me off, I don’t want to turn him into a pile of dust. Not yet, anyway.
I raise my chin and my sword, planting my feet the way he taught me as I huff, blowing a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from my plait.
“Ready to try again, little flower?”
I freeze. Little flower. Not hellflower.
Not rage muffin. That was Korithax’s name for me, and by the smug twitch of Maelkar’s lips, he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling me that nickname.
I can’t hold back my scream as I charge at him, swinging the sword with everything I’ve got.
The sudden ferocity actually surprises him, spurring him into action.
He has just enough time to raise his sword before I’m bringing my blade down.
Metal clashes against metal with a ringing clang that shudders through my arms.
“Fast,” he laughs. “But not fast enough, little rage muffin.”
He shoves against my blade, forcing me back a step. My chest burns with effort and fury. I lunge again, stabbing towards his chest. He knocks it aside effortlessly, chuckling like he’s having the time of his life.
“Gods, Zeriavoss is fucked with you as its leader. Can’t even land a single blow,” he tuts, smirking at me.
I know he’s just trying to taunt me, but unfortunately, it’s working.
I see red. Anger I’ve never felt before takes over my entire being.
Another rage filled scream tears out of me as I swing again.
But this time, my fire surges. It barrels into the blade instead of exploding outward, coating the steel in pure white flame.
Maelkar’s smirk falters. I lunge again, shocked when my next swing hits, landing directly in the middle of his chest. He stumbles back with an oomph, dropping his sword.
“Shit! Maelkar, are you—”
He stares at me wide-eyed for a heartbeat, then bursts out laughing. “There she is! My feisty little queen. Well done, hellflower. You just landed a killing blow.”
I blink at the now disintegrating blade, then at him, horrified. My own sword clatters to the ground as the fire fizzles out, turning into a pile of dust and warped metal. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t you dare apologise,” he interrupts, still grinning. “Be proud. That was progress.”
“But my fire—”
“Wasn’t out of control,” he says simply. “You directed it. It went where you wanted it to go. That’s the first step.”
I didn’t direct it anywhere, if I’m being totally honest. It just… happened. Regardless, a fragile flicker of pride warms my chest, but it barely has time to settle before Maelkar’s gaze shifts past me.
“What?” I frown.
He quirks a brow. “Looks like we have company.”
I turn to see Sariya and Elyistria approaching, both radiant and yet somehow grave.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, breathless from exertion.
“It’s…” Elyistria glances at Maelkar.
He gets the message immediately, bowing mockingly. “Try not to miss me too much, Queen D.” In a blink, he vanishes into shadows.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, nerves suddenly coiling tight. “What is it?”
“It’s Aran,” Elyistria says softly.
Fear slams into me. “He’s alright, isn’t he?”
“He’s alive,” Sariya says quickly, but her warm tone is weighted. “He’s… in the dungeons.”
“WHAT?”
“We’ll explain on the way,” Elyistria murmurs, already turning towards the palace.
I fall into step between them, leather pants rustling with each hurried stride. “You locked him up? Why? As queen, I should’ve—”
Sariya takes my hand gently as we continue walking. “Please, Daisy. Understand that we acted in your best interest. Aran is not who we believed him to be. He has betrayed us. Betrayed you.”
“No.” My voice is sharp, certain. “Aran would never.”
But my stomach twists when Elyistria adds, “He’s with Velentha.”
I stop dead. “Velentha—as in the Divine Six Velentha?”
“The very same,” Sariya says grimly.
“And you locked them… together?”
“He begged us to save her,” Elyistria explains. “She came into the war room bleeding, and he pleaded for her life. Once she was stable, we secured them both in the dungeons for questioning.”
My pulse pounds in my ears. I don’t believe it. I can’t. Not Aran.
Whilst we resume our hurried walk to the dungeons, Sariya and Elyistria continue to fill me in on the information they know.
The grimoire, Velentha being stabbed, and Aran’s desperate pleas.
As we approach the dungeon, it also occurs to me that I didn’t even realise this freaking place had one.
It’s Hell… surely anyone deserving of a dungeon would just end up in Gehenna?
We stand outside the doors, and I wipe my sweat-slicked palms across my trousers, not having the chance to change from my fighting gear.
“Ultimately, it is your choice what happens to them both, Daisy. But Aran is now deemed a traitor,” Elyistria murmurs as she pushes open the door.
“He is no such thing until I hear his side,” I mutter, waking past her down into the damp space beneath the castle.
The torches flicker against the stone walls as I descend.
My boots echo on the steps, each one heavier than the last. My eyes adjust to the poorly lit space, and that’s when I see them.
Velentha first—curled up against the bars.
Her usual hooded cloak is gone, her chin length, midnight-black hair reflecting the torchlight.
She looks so small, so… not-godlike at all.
Then I spot Aran, kneeling beside her in the next cell, his hand cupping her cheek.
My heart cracks at the sight. Not because my friend is sat behind bars in my dungeon, but because they were right.
He clearly cares for her, which makes him a traitor.
I walk towards them, both glancing over at me before quickly pushing to their feet.
My eyes dart between them, anger and betrayal swimming through me as I stare at one of the people responsible for my husband’s death.
I notice she’s swaying slightly on her feet, but I can’t bring myself to have an ounce of care for her wellbeing.
I feel the heat flicker across my skin, my white flame suddenly dancing along my entire body, illuminating the dungeon in an eerie white glow as anger takes over any form of logical thinking.
“Daisy,” Aran murmurs. “Please. Let me explain.”
“You betrayed me?” My voice shakes. “Betrayed Korithax?”
“No! Never. Please, just hear me out.”
I close my eyes, my chest heaving as I force myself to breathe.
I can’t just burn him on the spot. There has to be a reason for all of this.
A reason why he was cradling her cheek in his palm like she’s the love of his life.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. For a heartbeat, I swear I hear Korithax’s deep voice in my head. “Hear him out, little flower.”
I feel tears build beneath my closed lids as his voice caresses my mind.
I take another deep inhale before letting it out on a shaky breath.
I slowly open my eyes, feeling my flame vanishing back beneath my skin.
I still feel it—the power—writhing, desperate for release. But not yet. I owe it to my king.
I nod once on a shaky exhale. “Korithax would want to hear you out. Explain yourself.”
I stare in utter shock as he starts to explain everything. The secret alliance with Velentha. The stolen Saerathi grimoire. The near-execution. Pieces of a puzzle I didn’t even know existed start to fall into place, and with each word, my stomach knots tighter.
“They aren’t powerful enough to use all of the magic in the grimoire,” Aran states, giving me a slight reprieve from the anxiety building within my chest.
Velentha steps closer to the bars on shaking legs, her voice low but steady. “There are things we cannot tell you yet. But I can tell you this: the Divine Six have built an army of ten thousand. And they’ve already used two spells from the grimoire.”
“Which?” I manage, my voice rough.
“Waking the Dormant,” she says, “and Godbinding.”
The dungeon is deathly quiet, just the crackling of the torches and a distant drip drip drip echoing around the cavernous space.
“And that means… what, exactly?” Elyistria asks.
“Waking the Dormant lets them revive what should never have risen again,” Velentha explains. “Forgotten magics. Ancient creatures that died out millennia ago. Vicious things that do not belong in this age.”
My throat goes dry. The image hitting me of a horizon dark with monsters I can’t even name. I can feel bile rising in my throat. “And Godbinding?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Aran’s jaw tightens. “It creates demi-gods. They find the souls of long-fallen gods and bind them into livings vessels with blood and sacrifice. The Divine Six have already made at least four of them.”
I stare at them, the words hollowing me out from the inside. “So their army is…” I whisper, “… ancient monsters and demi-gods?”
Velentha nods. “And traitors from every realm willing to sell their souls for an inch of power.”