Chapter 22
I tied the last lace on my vest, then grimaced at the “training skirt” from Yiti that I’d worn in the last round of Tiers. I fastened the strip of material low on my hips like a good demon, then grimaced again. The ensemble gave off sexy Halloween fighter girl. I didn’t want to like it.
Part of me did.
I felt Tyran approaching from his rooms. He’d given me ten minutes to change, like that was a treat for good behavior. No complaints. I’d just had the best ten minutes of my day.
“Mate,” he murmured as I joined him in the hall, but his gray eyes flashed at my choice of attire. Yeah… he understood that I’d worn this to remind the entire realm who’d won the last game of Tiers.
A last-minute idea.
All of my ideas felt last minute lately.
My strategy at this point in the game was nonexistent.
Totally reactive. I’d been reduced to making one decision and then the next, and hoping things worked out.
Take the game of Tiers today. I’d announced this to lure Tyran into the next ritual.
Which I’d had to complete, yet now I had to sit through four rounds of Tiers that could boost Tyran’s power.
Everything I’d healed away after the last three rituals might return to him.
I forced a smile. “Tyran.”
He extended his forearm, and I rested mine over the top, curling my fingers around his fist. We walked through the mostly empty halls toward the arena. The other demons in the fortress had already departed for the arena. Only servants were left.
“How goes Athira’s hunt for Tsan?” I asked.
Tyran led me down the front steps of the fortress. “She will find him.”
“Tsan is still on the loose? Not bad for a yellow.” I chuckled.
Tyran replied, “Yellows could never rival the cunning of my scale, but they are mightier in mind than a crimson, even one such as Athira. I would have been disappointed if she had already found him. Her tracking success in the past has largely been due to her targets possessing crimson scales.”
I couldn’t wait to relay that insult to Athira. If I saw her again.
The Crave Arena loomed ahead, and the roar and laughter of the crowd shook the stones and dirt underfoot as we left the fortress behind. All that was needed was the king and future queen for Tiers to begin.
I glanced up at the monster beside me. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to create a master race yet.”
“Such a creation is no easy feat,” he replied.
I replied, “Where’s the confident Tyran I know? The originals created Vissimo, Luthers, and magus. Back yourself and back your dreams. That’s my advice.”
Tyran’s jaw clenched.
Which made my entire day worthwhile. I was holding on by a thread, but that thread was made of sarcasm.
He recovered his smooth expression. “To do so takes vast power. The originals achieved the creation of three other races by sacrificing large portions of demonkind. Or themselves. I do not wish to do the same.”
That he actually knew what had happened back then spoke for his age.
Demons were immortal, but we didn’t tend to live forever, as our immortal status might imply—we were too violent for that.
The more powerful a demon became, the more enemies they were likely to gain.
That could only continue for so long before death rose to greet them.
I blinked as his full meaning hit me. “So your mindless ambition to conquer the other supernaturals isn’t mindless. We need their territories and them as a food source to fuel your master race plans.”
Shit. That explained why he’d pursued conquering the other supernaturals so relentlessly over the centuries.
“You are almost bearable to speak with on such matters,” Tyran murmured.
I should be insulted at the confusion in his voice.
Soldiers pulled back the door to a side entrance of the arena solely for use by those in the top viewing box. My side rubbed against Tyran’s as we ascended the stairs in the tighter confines.
He said, “The nature of your scales has intrigued me greatly. How is a demon of black scales to be classified?”
“In terms of cunning? Super cunning.”
“There are times when I have wondered if you present the best qualities of all demons,” he said. “There is just the unfortunate situation of your dual nature.”
I snorted. “Not pure enough for you?”
Tyran glanced at me and didn’t answer.
We didn’t speak again on the way to the top, and when we left the tunnel to be greeted by the gawking gazes of the most powerful demons in the realm, Tyran simply led me to the throne beside his larger one.
The crowd’s volume surged at our appearance, and the shaking of the arena from up here was exactly like I remembered.
Tyran ignored the crowd and everyone else in the royal box.
I watched his throat work from the corner of my eye. He gripped the armrest three times in the next minute. The bastard desperately wanted this game to go ahead, but he didn’t wish anyone to know how eager he was.
Tyran must not know that I’d figured out what role the arena played for recharging his power.
Yet again, he was underestimating me based on the fact that I was powerful, a quality he’d always equated with lack of intelligence.
But his lack of reaction to my nervous anticipation of Tiers also reassured me that even though Carmine could sense my emotions now, Tyran couldn’t.
Otherwise, he’d be watching my every move, or threatening me.
I rose, and received a sharp glance from him.
“This is my gift to you, my king,” I said to him—loudly enough for others in the royal box to hear. “Allow me to start proceedings.”
I didn’t wait for permission, and the screams and stomping rose to deafening heights as I approached the balustrade.
“Demons of the realm,” I called, shooting smoke into my voice so all would hear me.
Immediate silence.
I’d always wondered what that would feel like, and the answer was heady. I could almost understand Tyran’s addiction to power. They treated me like I could crush every one of them here if I chose.
I called, “Welcome to this special game of Tiers, held in honor of my mate-intended and our recent iron ritual.”
I waited for their cheers to abate, then added, “This game is also held in honor of our people, as an acknowledgment of the importance of every demon in our realm. In light of that, I bring you a game of Tiers unlike any other. A game where cunning is the sharpest weapon in the arena.” I smiled at the confused masses. “Let Tiers begin.”
The creaking of the gate at the opposite end of the arena invoked shivers in my soul. Not too long ago I’d stood behind that gate, waiting to fight in Tiers while wondering if I’d live to see my son again.
The gate opened, and running yellows and oranges entered the arena.
The crowd erupted from their seats as if checking their eyes weren’t deceiving them.
Yep. We were going to sit through four rounds of yellows and oranges fighting to win the game.
The Ronj magic contained in the dust of this arena only fed on powerful demons, so it should have little to no effect on these contestants, seeing as they were “weak” demons.
If Tyran gained any power from this game of Tiers, then hopefully the amount would be negligible.
I walked back to my throne and sat.
Tyran’s icy gaze was on me, and I met it—not daring to grin or celebrate thwarting him in any way. Carmine was sending me amusement and pride through our mating bond. If I had to guess, then that wasn’t what Tyran felt.
“Very clever. I see you are more aware of the nature of my power than I believed,” he said.
I didn’t answer and pretended to watch the game.
He was staring.
I’d made this choice knowing he’d likely deal out some punishment, and so the lack of heat in him—the lack of white-lipped fury—concerned me. Greatly. Especially as Carmine’s feelings morphed to those of worry and warning.
Tyran had decided on his punishment. He must be bragging to Carmine right now.
So I probably wouldn’t like what was coming.
I fixed unseeing eyes on the game, barely noticing as oranges and yellows fell.
The surprised gasps of the crowd told me that the nature of this game of Tiers was a hit.
I hadn’t been sure whether the realm would like the change, though I’d been interested to watch the strategies unfold in the arena.
More and more, my mind was filled by Carmine’s warning until he might as well have been shouting in my ear.
Keep calm. Don’t let him notice.
Tyran wasn’t looking at me anymore.
The crowd roared, and I jerked. The last contestant had made it to the checkpoint. I quickly checked the numbers there. About half had made it through round one. More than usual.
Tyran stood and approached the balustrade.
Silence.
He straightened and addressed his subjects. “A game like no other before it. The most interesting game of Tiers I have watched in many years. Thank you to my mate-intended, and your future queen, for bestowing such a gift upon us.”
He waited for the shouts and screams to fade away. “I, too, have my own gift to deliver to my mate-intended, and it is only fitting that all those in the realm should witness this day.”
Tyran half turned, hand extended to me.
I rose to take it, wishing away the hammering of my heart. I didn’t have the blue gems. I didn’t have Tsan and Athira here.
Carmine was screaming a senseless warning at me.
Tyran kissed the back of my hand, eliciting more screams from onlookers. He was going to tear me down and eliminate any power I had with the demons of the realm.
Humiliation was coming my way.
He faced his subjects. “It is customary for the mate-intended of the king to become queen after the mating ritual is complete. But just as this game was unlike another, so is my future mate. She has proven herself in the arena.”
Tyran waited until the arena stopped shaking, then added, “She has proven herself in battle against our enemies.”
I… had?
He must sense how terrified I was. I couldn’t tell where the final blow would come from, just that it would. He was building me up, so I had further to fall.
Tyran tilted my chin high, dragging more roars of approval from surrounding demons. He called, “She has proven herself to me.”
He focused on the crowd again. “Today, and in your presence, my mate-intended will be crowned queen.”
Cold horror dripped through my rib cage to coat my heart. Queen.
Crowned.
The cacophony of the crowd was nothing but a high-pitched buzzing in my ears. He was going to force his power into my body via the crown. Just like he did with each new king.
Fuck.
I swallowed. “This is surely a ceremony for a grander venue, my king.”
My voice sounded pathetic even to my ears.
Tyran whispered in my ear, “I find myself unable to wait any longer to bestow this honor upon you.”
The urge to run coiled in my legs.
But where to? Earth? The odds of me making it to the gates and beyond were slim. Yet if I stayed, and Tyran succeeded in using both Carmine and me as his vessels, then the other supernaturals would be in serious trouble. Along with Adeuto.
I had to go.
Tyran opened a portal and gestured me through.
I locked my legs. “The king’s mother should be present for a queen’s coronation.”
He peered past me, and I glanced back at Athira.
I used every tool in my arsenal to prevent relief showing. Athira was here. If she was here, perhaps she’d found Tsan.
But Athira could figure this out. Right? If she was still on my side. Which I was 51 percent sure about.
Tyran tugged me through his portal, and we walked into the sandy clearing in front of the checkpoint. His subjects peered down at us, and their noise was still nothing more than a buzzing in my ears.
Soldiers surrounded the perimeter of the fighting floor. The survivors of Tiers watched us from inside the checkpoint.
“Kneel, mate-intended,” Tyran said.
I stared at him, absently noting his smug glee at whatever he interpreted from my behavior.
Shock and terror.
I didn’t dare seek out Athira’s gaze in the crowd. Could she do this? Could she get the gems, take me to Neti, and evade Tyran’s notice in the doing?
If she managed all of that, could I survive the healing? If I did, then I’d hopefully siphon away more of Tyran’s remaining power.
There would be less left to heal in Carmine. That could make all the difference for him surviving the healing.
This might work in my favor.
And if I died in the healing, then Tyran’s power would likely be adrift until the next game of Tiers in just under a year. He’d be weaker until that time, and my sister could take him out. She’d have no reservations about doing so once I was dead. That was if Carmine didn’t die when I did.
Dying was more preferable than the last possibility—that Athira wouldn’t find the gems, and wouldn’t figure out how to whisk me away for the healing.
That I would go on as tyrannical queen of the demons, a slave in her own body, and forced to commit horrible acts through the centuries.
Kept so close but so far from her mate, also a slave in his body.
Would we still have our dreams? Would we still be able to complete our mating?
Tyran’s icy gaze filled my vision. “Kneel.”
Did I believe in Athira?
Mother be. My future had been reduced to faith in my mother-in-law.
The answer? If anyone could pull this off, then she could. Yes, I believed in Athira.
I knelt and looked up at Tyran’s grin of glee. “I’m ready,” I said.
His eyes narrowed, but he barked an order over his shoulder. Gratia appeared, holding another cushion. On that cushion was a simple tiara, not a delicate one like Neti’s. One of function and power.
“Blackened iron,” Tyran announced to the crowd. “A tiara befitting of such a queen.”
I stared at it.
This could be the last memory I owned. These could be the last breaths I controlled. The last words too. Carmine’s despair crashed over me in waves, and I struggled to remain upright.
Tyran was speaking to his demons, holding the tiara high.
I gazed at the leaping sand. White magic. I clamped my lips closed and kept my breaths shallow.
Tyran faced me, his lips moving as he held the tiara above my head and started to lower it.
“I love you,” I said. To him—Carmine.
I closed my eyes as the weight of queen’s iron settled around my head.