Chapter 11 #3
“Your solution instead of execution was to use them to trick, seduce, and capture your enemy. It was your plan. And if it fails, then it’s your failing alone.” Maximinus marches to stand directly in front of me. “Will you take responsibility?”
It’s a trap. But I must walk into it.
My eyes swirl, and I force Hadrian down with difficulty. “Strange how I remember that you were the one who created a cursed mask as part of the plan.”
“Are you challenging me?” Maximinus’ voice becomes soft; it’s always far more dangerous like that.
He hurts more when he pretends to be gentle. I learned that lesson as a child.
When Maximinus reaches to stroke my cheek with his knuckles, I can’t stop the small flinch.
War ignores my earlier unspoken command and raises her sword to rest it against Maximinus’ neck.
“Don’t fucking touch him,” she snarls. “Ever. Again.”
“I could kill you with a thought, don’t you realize that?” Maximinus murmurs. “I could bend your own sword against you and shove it through your eye.”
His hand is still hovering above my cheek.
My breath is caught in my throat. My heart races. I stare at him, and he doesn’t look away.
“Then do it, cunt.” War’s hand is steady. “But touch him, and I’m slitting your throat.”
Maximinus continues looking at me, as my heart beats hard in my chest like he expects me to beg.
I’m never begging him for anything again.
He never showed me mercy anyway.
Finally, Maximinus lets out a huff of laughter like he’s amused, even though I can see by his flushed cheeks how humiliated he is to have been called out publicly.
War presses the tip of her blade into Maximinus’ neck hard enough for blood to well, before she finally pulls it back.
Lucius immediately wraps his arms around his Alpha’s waist. He soothes War with his bewitching scent of narcissus. I can also, however, smell the sour scent of his fear underneath.
Maximinus wipes at the blood on his throat with distaste.
Then he glances over at the council members who have been watching the standoff between Maximinus and the most feared war general in the kingdom with horror.
Maximinus glances between Decima and Liviana, before he looks back at me. He steps to the side of the dais that is closest to the Council like he’s claiming it as his own.
“Your peace treaty with the Blood Kingdom was fake,” he proclaims. “The Council only allowed it by Blood Oath because of the chance to capture Lanlin.”
I glance out of the corner of my eye at Lucius, and he gives me a hand signal that from our army days I know means proceed as planned.
“Freya is an apprentice spy from the Guild of Assassins,” I reply.
“You were the one who trained Daire about the Blood Court and how to gain Lanlin’s trust as his Blood Lover by pretending to be his sweet pet.
All to trap him in the cursed chains of your invention.
Hmm, sounds more like a joint scheme to me. ”
“You wicked beast.” A wave of furious magic bursts from Maximinus.
The servers cry out in shock as their metal trays fly from their hands, spilling the drinks across the floor.
The Alphas’ ceremonial robes are stained ruby red with wine, as their silver goblets are wrenched as if by invisible hands and dashed against the wall.
The Alphas crouch against the floor, protecting their heads.
“You will not twist this like the evil Golden Dragon you are. If your mates do not return, then you will be branded a traitor who helped them to escape. You must be working with our enemies. The Council has already agreed that you will be chained like Emperor Hadrian was in the dungeon.”
“This is treason,” I snarl. “You are the traitor.”
Maximinus shakes his head, and I realize now that he has been planning this for a long time.
“I am the savior of this kingdom. As Regent, I guided and protected it. Everybody knows how committed I am to this empire. I would execute my own family for it. Let us hope that I am wrong and your mates return. But if not…then I will burn you to ash on your own dagger just like my ancestors did Hadrian.”
When he smiles at me like he is imagining it, Hadrian rises within me.
My shoulders itch, as shadows flow around me. I can barely stop my wings from breaking from my shoulder blades.
“They’ll be here.” I clench my hands into fists. “My Omega won’t abandon me.”
“And the fae?”
I clench my jaw. “He goes wherever she does.”
When Maximinus glances through the window, my pulse skyrockets. “I can see the war chariot of the sun racing toward us. It is almost morning. I am calling the guards, and if you even think to resist, then this will be civil war.”
It will.
Is this truly happening now?
Execution, in the nightmare manner I have feared since childhood, when I thought that my Omega was being returned to me tonight…?
Why did I mock Lanlin that at his moment of joy he would lose everything?
Why did I wish that on anyone?
Dear Shadow Gods, is that why this is now happening to me? Do I deserve this?
Death…or civil war…
“Choose,” Maximinus barks, “the sun is almost risen.”