3. Three
Well, that was unexpected.
When Shan mentioned someone was coming from Rhyma, I hardly expected someone so vivacious. So full of life, she nearly blinded me with it. She might be relentlessly haughty, but at least she”s lively.
Truth be told, until she introduced herself, I had entirely forgotten about the possibility of them sending someone. Their last several attempts had been less than successful, and I had assumed they knew better than to keep pressing on my last nerve.
Peace talks with a nation that continues to encroach on my land? Absurd. Until they agree to stop burning the towns on our border and follow through, peace is out of the question. And if I have to keep their little Elva— and play along with this fuckery of meeting with all of our neighbors— until they agree, so be it.
If I have to send her body back to them in pieces, I”ll do that, too. Though I”d rather not. Most bodies don”t look like that, and it would be a terrible waste to turn hers into a corpse.
I could almost hear her fuming as I rounded the corner to the stables, and I had to stop myself from chuckling at her adorable fury.
Coming upon the stable, Drakken”s feet shake the ground, loudly disrupting the hay as she stomps her feet in preparation for our excursion.
We”ve received word thatyet another village has been razed byour neighbors to the west. And whileI can”t be certain, every time we”vegone to investigatethus far, it has provento betrue.
While I gather my materials for the ride, I wonder if our little house guest knows just what her country is up to while she”s here playing nice. Doubtful. Her emotions were written all over her face, and her indignance tells me she would never be a part of something so dastardly. Which means she might be innocent. And that would make killing her even less pleasant.
She could just be a talented actress. It wouldn”t be the first time a pretty face was used to try to take down a kingdom.
But that”s a problem for later. For now, I get to do what I do best.
”Hi gorgeous,” I coo to the powerful creature before me. Drakken whinnies, rubbingherface against my palm. Her black-as-night coat shines where the sun reaches through the slats in the ceiling. ”You ready to go for a ride?”
It would be immensely faster ifI had someone elsesaddle her before I came, but doing it myself calms me and helps me focus on the taskat hand.I don”t trusta single othersoul to take care of Drakken like I can,and neitherdoes she.
Once she”s prepared for our journey, I take her reins and pull her out into the warm sunshine, running my palm across her neck as I do. The warm sun hits my face, and I feel the relief in it, just as Drakken must. This is the best part of my job as king.
While the killing can be cathartic, nothing feels as right to me as riding my powerful, winged companion into the sky, adventuring out to protect my people.
I long to ride without the helm and cloak, to find freedom in the sky on this winged beast, but I can”t risk coming across enemies, or even allies, without it. So, with great effort, I take the wicked thing in my hands, staring into my other face. The discolored bone reflects the sun, the slight imperfections where the skulls of my first victims were fused together with their mounts creating a gruesome tapestry of my finest work.
Killing their elk was far more painful than killing them, but in making my moniker, in creating this facade for the world to fear, sacrifices had to be made. This monstrous, beautiful thing has made countless people fall in reverence for me. They worship this mask, ride to certain death for it, and give their hard-earned money and resources for it. The helm is as much a part of me as it is a part of the fabric of this nation.
But Ifind myself wonderingif the people who kneelbefore it would do so if they knew the man behind it.If I would be as terrifying to my enemies without it.
As I slide it onto my head, followed shortly by the cloak, I feel the comfort of anonymityslip onto me as well.In this, I am The Horned King, a thing of nightmares,exactlywho I want to be. Who I need to be.
And with that, I”m off to defend my kingdom from intrudersonce again.
The reports came in early this morning, and I would have flown out immediately if I had been able, but attackson the outside of the city limits have to come after attacks within the castle.
When I awoke this morning, two of my guards had been neutralized. Drowned on dry land, water still spilling from their mouthsby the timeShan found them. How the fuck the Syren Queen manages that, I”m still not quite sure. But it”s her favorite way to invite me to meet with her, whichcan only meanshe has more demands.
My mind was so scattered, so lost in a half-sleep that I didn”t even feel them when they were killed. If this continues,I”m going tohave to let some of the undead in my staff find eternal peace.
Ican”tkeep this many guards and maids going much longerwithouttaking a long, long rest.I”m constantly exhausted, the fight of keeping their corpses reanimated draining me. But who could I trust to watch the castle while I rest?If Iallow my mind tofullyshut off,each of themwill go with me, leaving only half of my guards and even fewer castle workers.
Perhaps while the visitors are here in the coming days, I can sneak away just for a few hours. Surely, they”ll all bring their own cavalry, knowing no one canreallytrust each other.
Which begs the question: Why doesn”t little Elva have her own protection? Surely, her country must care that she”s in enemy territory.Perhaps theysent someone they don”tactuallyneed to survive.
Or perhaps they knew that whoever they sent with her, if not given the same protections as her, would have their souls torn from their bodies the moment they set foot in the castle.
Would I have allowed an entire team of Rhymans to come with that kind of promise?
Absolutely fucking not.
So, of course, she had to be sent alone. Not my best moment setting her up that way, but I did not expect her to comeat allanyway. I had heard her people have no sense of self-preservation, but for her to be outright suicidal is surprising even to me.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost miss thetellingsmell of smoke in the air. That horrid, acrid scent of skin that”s been melted from its host. I direct Drakken to circle, looking and feeling for the corpses I know must be near.
Sure enough, within moments, I spot the first ones. The ones who managed to get out of town before they met their ends, even some who have been scraping along the ground, attempting to run from the carnage that tore their town apart.
Directing Drakken to land near them, I search their faces for onethat isstill conscious enough to answer my questions.
None of them are.
The last two living are only doing so by the loosestofdefinitions, barely clinging to life.
I can pretend I”m killing them as a mercy, that I”m putting them out of their misery, and I suppose I am. But they are, unfortunately, of more use to me dead than alive now.
Without so much as a snap of my fingers, I kill them both, watching their bodies go limp, losing all fight.
Before they are allowed to depart, I trap their souls in their mutilated bodies.
This would be the cruelest torture if I allowed them to feel any pain in this state. But even I am not that heartless.
”What happened?” I ask the one whose face is still mostly intact, though he”s missing an eye and half the hair on his head. The stench of burnt hair assaults me, somehow passing the dry bone partition between us as if it isn”t thereat all.
”We were attacked,” he wheezes. Obviously. But the rattling of his lungs and the blood that spews when he speaks catch me by surprise. Howon earthcould he have made it this far with that kind of injury?
”Did you see who did the attacking?” I ask.
”Black horses, masks, came riding in from the North.”
From the North?”True north? Not east or westward at all?”
”No, Your Majesty. North. They came with the river, using its sound to camouflage the pounding of hooves until it was too late.”
Everything points to this as another attack from Rhyma. They”re the only neighbors foolish enough to attempt this, the only ones who would dare to encroach onto our land and try to take it for themselves. Butin order toattack from the north, they would need to invade Fastid.
With a sigh that makes me feel far older than I am, I ask what I hope is my last question before allowing him his eternal rest. ”How did you make it this far out of town? Your injuries should have killed you within moments.”
”They let me run. Let me attempt to escape. Let me believe that we could. Only a few minutes ago did they make the killing blow.”
What the fuck? ”How? You were burnt to death, and yet, there is no fire around you.”
”I...”he pauses, ”I don”t know. One minute, I was running, and the next, fire filled my lungs, radiating outwards. For a moment I wondered if that was what dragons felt like. The heat in my chest wholly consumed me as I fought to keep it inside. But it burned through me, taking me and my... my wife. Oh my god. My wife, where is she?”
Up until now, I hadn”t thought much about the other corpse, only knowing that the formless figure wouldn”t be able to speak to me the way this one could. I should spare him from seeing her this way.
Silently,I let her soul drift, letting her find the peace she”s silently crying out for, knowing her husband will be swiftly behind her, off to the next life together.
Myinstinct is to tell him how sorry I am andthat Iwish things were different.And I do.
But they”re not.
This is the world we”ve been forced to live in. And the lessheknows, the better. I don”t even allow him to turn his head around to find her, keeping his eye locked on the cavernous sockets in my helm. He”ll have more peace if he doesn”t know what he”s done to her.
How could this happen? Someone with the ability to start a fire inside someone”s lungs?
I peer around us, looking for somewherethatthis mystery attacker couldbe hiding, and yet nothing.
No trees,no mountains, noteven a bush for nearly a mile in any direction. Only this empty road that leads from the town to the capital. There are no hoof prints, save for Drakken”s.
”What happened before you ran?”
His eye goes even more vacant, trapped in his memories that his soul would certainly rather not relive. ”We were tending to our sheep just before the sun rose, as we do every morning. We heard the commotion, the pounding of hooves, and then the screams. Horrible screams and the roar of flames nearly drowned them out. Our home was on the edge of town. We own no weapons and no way to fight. So as our sheep caught fire, we fled.”
I silently urge him to continue, to give me something. Anything. Any way to determine what manner of weapon we”re facing from the Rhymans.
”We heard laughter, laughter that sounded like a song. My wife wanted to run to it, but I knew what that meant.”
”No, that”s impossible. Syren”s cannot survive on land.”I”m arguing with a corpse that cannot lie or deceive. Yet what he”s claiming can”t be true.
”I heard it, Your Majesty. And I grabbed my wife and ran.”
”Is there anything else you remember? Anything at all?”
He blinks slowly. ”No, Sire.”
Fuck.
Gritting my teeth, I release his soul, let it flee from its mortal form onto the next world, whatever it may be.
As his lifeless husk hits the ground beneath him, I return my gaze to the world around us. It”s utterly silent, completely devoid of life. Not even the vultures dare to venture here, looking for scraps.
Something is very wrong.
As I walk towards the smoke in the distance, Drakken whinnies from her place beside me. A distressed, frantic sound. She has no desire to get any closer to the burnt village either.
Death and destruction are nothing new to me and my Drakken, butusually, we are the ones administeringthem.Being on this side of it is unsettling.
Their attacks grow bold, an insult against me and my nation, while they send in a beautiful distraction. As if a gorgeous face and presumably stunning body will persuade me to show mercy.
My mind wanders back to her and the rage that simmers beneath her skin. I can only imagine her country didn”ttake notice ofit; otherwise, they would have chosen another in her place. Tightly controlled fury like hers can only be recognized by those whoalsocarry it.
Most in Rhyma would see it as nerves, maybe. Thetimid softness of a powerless woman in a world of powerful beings. They”ve never needed to fight to survive like we have. Neverhad to become monsters to live.They don”t sense when one is in their midst.
But I do.
I toy with the idea of killing her. Again. If only to sate the bloodlust rising inside me at the carnage her people have perpetrated against mine. Again. But if I do, they”ll have more reason to retaliate. Again.
And it might be far more effective to create an ally of sorts in her. She can”t be trusted, but perhaps she can be manipulated into thinking she”s trusted.
As a plan falls into place, the smell of burning flesh overwhelms me. Even through the helm, the stench is potent. Drakken whinnies beside me, and I reach out to comfort her. She nuzzles into my palm, the familiar motion soothing to the both of us after so many years together.
Taking one final deep breath, we walk together through the smoldering remains of the gate to the village.
There”s nothing left.
The fire burned so hot it ate right through everything.
For what feels like hours, I traverse the decrepit remains of this ruined place. I search for any sign of life. Any clue. Any corpse still intact enough to reanimate. Any-fucking-thing.
But the only thing around us is destitution and mutilation.
”Quite the sight, Your Majesty,”a voice soundsallaround me. ”This level of carnage is something I might expect from you, not to be exacted against you.”
My eye twitches beneath my mask. ”Ovoor, always a pleasure.”
Her haggard laugh echoes behind me. ”It”s bad manners to lie, you know.”
I turn around and see nothing but follow the voice anyway.Shelikesherlittle games, and playing along is the easiest way to deal with her.
Rounding a corner towards the town center, I find her perched on the remnants of what used to be a water fountain but is now, in fact, a trickle of a blood fountain.
”There you are,”she grins as if she didn”t know exactly where I wasall along. ”Did you like our gift?”
Ah. The sheep farmer.”You gifted me dead townsfolk. How thoughtful.”
”I gifted you time,”she corrects. ”Gave the sheep farmer an extra few hours before the spell cast on him could take hold.”
”Could you not have just kept them all from this end?”
She wrinkles her nose, the deep lines around her mouth and eyes becoming more pronounced as she does. Ovoor looks as if she wascertainlyonce beautiful, with eyes so dark they swallow all the light around them, teeth terrifyingly straight and white, and long brown hair that dances in the wind.
But as the eyes of the past, she”s always looked... well, ancient.
”Onala forbid it.”The mention of her sister, the eyes of the future, sends a shiver down my spine. ”But she allowed me to give those few enough time to show you what they saw.”
Against my better judgment, I scoff, ”They saw nothing.”
”They saw enough.”She raises a brow in humor. ”Now you know what evil is coming.”
”Syrens,”I say, and she nods. ”How do they have Syrens this far inland? Only the queen has the ability to walk on land.”
Her eyes flash white, and her whole body freezesforjust a moment before she returns from communing with her sisters. ”Apologies, Your Majesty, I cannot say.”
”Who commands them?”
She says nothing, only stares with that patient, indulgent, infuriating smirk.
”Okay, can you tell me how it”s related to the attack at my home this morning?”There”s no way this is all a coincidence. Syren magic invades my home as Syrens somehow attack my kingdom? Absolutely not.
Nothing.
”Then, with all due respect,”I hold back from grinding my teeth, ”what the fuck are you here for?”
”I am here to issue a warning,”she speaks to me as if I”m a petulant little boy throwing a tantrum, making my fingers itch to wrap around her throat. ”You can”t kill the girl.”
”Ihadn”t planned on it.”
”There you go, child, lying to me again.”She cackles. ”Onala sees it, so there is at least one future where you do it.”
”I may have considered it, but it wasn”t something I-”
She smiles wider, interrupting me. ”You can”t bed her either.”
”Why not?”The question leaves my mouth before I have a chance to stop it.
Her grating, horrid laughter surrounds me again. ”Onala has seen many futures where you do, and most of them end disastrously.”
Most is not all.Why am I even thinking about this? I am standing in a mass grave of my people, yet I”mcontemplating what level of catastrophe I would accept just to have my newest houseguest beneath me.
Or above me, riding my cock, her big green and gold eyes staring down at me with her mouth in a perfect O.
Perhaps in front of me, bent over any surface in the castle while I grip her dark blonde waves in my fist, bending her backward and—
”Do what you like, Your Majesty. I am only the messenger,”Ovoor interrupts my thoughts. She eases from her seat with far more grace than her form would lend anyone to believe her capable of. ”But if she dies, all of our futures are at stake.”
Godsdamn it.
”Understood. Give Onala and Olath my best.”
With a smile and a wave of her hand, she vanishes into a puff of smoke, leaving nothing behind but her warnings.
Figure out who is controlling the Syrens and how.
Meet with every country to discuss peace while my own people are being attacked.
Don”t kill the girl.
Don”t fuck the girl.
That last objective should be easy enough.Shespent the entire two minutes we spoke spewing hatred and vitriol at me, so any thoughts I might have had of beddingherare only just that. Thoughts.
I can indulge in thoughts of having herover and over againand not act on them. I”m perfectly capable of overlooking a pretty face to focus on the future of our world.
I imagine Ovoor”s grating voicein my head, chiding me for lying again. This time to myself.
With a heavy breath and a final look at the massacre around me, I whistle for Drakken, taking to the sky to face the plethora of problems closer to home.
Including a meeting with the Syren Queen.
Fuck.