Chapter 20
Cold water doused me, and I shivered on the stone platform in the bunker, soaked from head to toe. I’d never likened this place to the dungeons, but right now I couldn’t help recalling that the dungeons were on the same level, just through another door.
This was a problematic development.
I’d slept all day down here, from what I could tell. Now Tyran was sleeping in his bedroom two levels above, and he’d enlisted a couple of reds to keep me awake all night.
He’d already known about the dreams, and whether Carmine had let something slip, or Tyran just plain ol’ suspected we were in dream cahoots, he wasn’t going to risk us sleeping at the same time.
Clever bastard.
I hugged my legs, dragging the chains on my ankles with me. “Do both of you realize that you’ve ensured your death by accepting this post?”
One red ignored me, and the other appeared very aware of her circumstances. On the one hand, the future queen was chained. On the other, those chains might not hold her. The king had ordered this, but he wasn’t always here.
I smiled at the woman, and she swallowed.
Not their fault, really, but what did a shivering demon in chains have except for her murderous smirk?
We settled into a rhythm of prisoner and torturer where I started to slip into an exhausted sleep, and then they woke me with cold water.
Eventually, I felt Tyran move in his top-level room, at the center of the fortress. I gritted my teeth as he showered—in warm water. Dressed—in dry clothes. Then walked toward my location—chain free.
Perhaps buckets of cold water had generated the determination I hadn’t convinced myself of alone. I was going to kill this motherfucker.
The female opened the door for the king, and he entered, glancing at the soldiers.
“Leave,” Tyran said.
The reds bowed and obeyed, taking their buckets. Their retreating steps slapped through the water now covering the floor.
I relished the thought of them collecting water all night. They’d been hard pushed to keep me awake.
“Syera, my intelligent, conniving, and powerful mate. Or should I say his?” Tyran sat on the only seat—one beside my stone bed.
The game was up.
“Tyran,” I greeted him.
His eyes glinted, and at once, I could detect Carmine’s despair in my heart and also see Tyran’s excitement.
So that answered one question. What I felt in my heart after the iron ritual was all Carmine.
“I can’t deny how freeing it is to have another acknowledge my existence,” Tyran said. “It has been over five thousand years.”
And he still hadn’t conquered the other supernaturals. I couldn’t help but feel if I was in charge and was deranged, then I could have done the job in a millennium.
“How did you figure it out? Even your mate could not have discovered the truth before I claimed him as my vessel.”
I frowned. Hold on. Did Tyran want to chit-chat? About himself? I blinked. He wanted me to tell him how clever he was.
Tyran was digging for compliments. No way! Should I flatter him? That could win me a ticket out of this bunker.
I couldn’t stomach it. “Not difficult,” I said instead. “An army could’ve walked ten astride down the trail you left.”
Not my best insult. Not my worst.
I added, “I expected more.”
Tyran’s eyes flashed, but I felt Carmine’s humor drift to my heart. And his wariness. Because yes, Tyran could kill me. I was a powerful demon, who must have an agenda to eradicate him.
Actually, why the hell wasn’t I dead?
Tyran tilted his chin and smirked. “Where to go from here, young demon? You are caught. You are powerless. Soon, I will find those who have helped you. Let me guess, the yellow.”
“I suppose you would suspect the weaker demon.”
Tyran clenched his jaw. “Intelligence is the greatest weapon in existence.”
“Says the demon who sacrificed himself—and thirty-nine of his followers—to occupy a line of crimson kings.”
I didn’t see him move.
My head rang as my mind processed his savage punch to my cheek. I dragged in a gasping breath, clinging to Carmine’s rage.
I laughed in the wake. “Are you that sensitive to the irony of what you’ve done? By inserting yourself into crimsons for five thousand years, you’ve confirmed that you don’t believe whites and yellows and oranges are stronger.”
“They are,” he answered with false calm. “I am interested in the strongest. Through that viewpoint, I can admit the faults of the more cunning of our species.”
Yeah right. Tyran was insecure on an ancient scale.
I asked, “Is this the part where you kill me?”
Tyran stood. “I see no need for that. You are still useful, and now that I have filled in the mysteries of your magic and agenda, you pose no threat.”
“You think these will hold me?” I jiggled the chains.
Tyran whipped out crimson smoke, and the chains clattered to stone.
“Of course not. They were nothing but a message. Here are your real chains, young demon. Something that you won’t have found in books or discovered through my enemy.
I can kill my host. And I can do so at any time.
I have done that each time when a more powerful king came along.
I grow so tired of their begging, you see.
I prefer to occupy a new king as time goes by—so full of hope and determination to throw me out and regain their bodies and minds. ”
Carmine’s shame touched my heart. And his hopelessness.
I sent back all of my fury and determination. I had more than enough for both of us. Carmine had fought this invisible war alone for over two decades. I had no reason to complain about being tired after a matter of months.
“Cross me or rise against me. Plot or whisper or aid my enemy, and I will kill your mate.”
“And where will you go next?” I said drily. “Tsan?”
The ancient being curved his lips. “No, young demon. I will go to your son. What is his name? Unimportant. I will know it soon enough if you cross me.”
I sighed. “You just expect that I’d do nothing to stop that? And none of the other supernaturals?”
Tyran tilted his head. “You are one ritual away from being fully mated with this body. What makes you think that you would survive his death? With your death, dies your ability to raise an army of the dead. Which means the protection of your mother and grandmother for your son disappears. Your sister is dead. Your yellow accomplice gave me the answer to dissolving the magus barriers.”
The horror of his logic would have taken out my legs from under me if I’d been standing. Everything he said was true, but for one thing.
My sister was alive, and part demon. But what could she do against Tyran, really?
Tyran cupped my chin, making sure to dig his thumb into the bruise he’d given me. He kissed me softly. “You will learn to love your chains.” He turned and walked away. “Now come.”
I lifted my head. “What?”
Tyran didn’t answer and opened a portal instead. I climbed off the stone platform and clung to the side until my legs remembered how to work.
A rope of crimson smoke extended, and I was dragged across the ground and through the portal. I rolled over on the floor and got to all fours. My bedroom.
My stomach roiled at the implication. There was a stark difference between Tyran believing me ignorant to his presence in my mate while I seduced him for the purposes of completing a ritual and Tyran being aware of what I knew while he set his hands on me.
He sat in the armchair. “Shower the filth from your body. Dress in something befitting a queen. Hurry, or I will do it for you.”
I was so relieved that I just obeyed and staggered into the shower.
I worked as quickly as possible to wash off several days of unconsciousness, the terrible reek of my healing, and the damp smell of my night being drenched in water.
I scrubbed at my short hair, and then toweled myself dry.
Only once wrapped in a towel, did I dare stop to consider why Tyran wished for me to appear like a queen instead of a prisoner.
I’d lived in this fortress as several different versions of myself. As an uncertain young adult. As a mother set on revenge, and then as a mate set on a warpath. So I knew without a doubt that how Tyran treated me would dictate how other demons treated me.
If he disrespected and humiliated me, then no one else would hesitate to do so. If he wanted me powerless, then why leave me with the ability to order others around and do my bidding?
I steeled myself to leave the bathroom and go to the wardrobe.
Tyran watched my every move and didn’t utter a word when I pulled out a black gown.
He didn’t stop me from returning to the bathroom to dress, likely because that felt like a battle I’d lost by not changing in front of him to issue a challenge.
I didn’t care. I’d had a shit few days to say the least.
Concede the battle and win the war.
When I exited the bathroom, dressed, Tyran wrinkled his nose.
“That will do. They don’t expect much of you,” he said.
I left the room in his wake, and once out in the hall, Tyran extended his forearm. I shoved aside revulsion to rest my forearm over his and curl my fingers around his fist.
He led me to the dining hall, and none of the demons eating their breakfast appeared to think much of our arrival, besides the usual scrapes of chairs and bows and curtsies. So much had happened, and they had no idea.
If anyone wanted to solve the mystery of how Tyran had run the realm for so long, then here was the answer—he’d cultivated total dependence from his subjects. Those in the realm most of all.
Athira was at the table, and relief filled me.
Tsan was not.
“But where is your friend?” Tyran mocked.
If Tyran didn’t know, then I felt vastly better about my friend’s absence. Perhaps Athira had gotten my lucky yellow out to Tempest.
I sat in the throne beside his, and despite the thickness in my throat, I forced myself to eat. Strength in my body would create strength in my mind. I needed both in enormous measure.
“Mother,” the king said.
Athira abandoned her breakfast to attend him. She leaned close to his head, and fuck, I had a new awe of my mother-in-law’s bravery. Or desperation.
“Yes, my son?” she asked.
He said in a bored tone. “There is a yellow, named Tsan. He lived here for a time as the chosen friend of my mate.”
“I recall.”
“Find him and bring him to me.”
Athira nodded. “I will see it done.”
She left the hall, twirling a dagger as was her usual.
Run, Athira, I silently bid her. Get Tsan and run.
Each second she remained in this realm was a second she risked death. My life was under constant threat now, and I needed Adeuto to have as much protection as possible. Athira and Tempest had a chance to defeat Carmine with the help of the other leaders.
Except—my heart sank—if they did, then Tyran had already told me his plan.
To inhabit Adeuto.
I sipped at my goblet to hide the shallowness of my breaths.
“Brother,” Gratia spoke from his other side. “I would like to request an audience after breakfast, if that is suitable with your war efforts.”
Tyran glanced at her. “It is. You may attend me in war council.”
“Thank you, brother.” Gratia shot me a look, then returned to her breakfast.
Raes frowned at her, and I could almost hear their silent argument before she snapped her head up to deliver him a glare.
Fuck. Gratia was about to betray her mother. And me.