Chapter 15 A Losing Winner
FIFTEEN
A LOSING WINNER
The halls are silent but filled with the pounding of my anxious heart. Everything I’ve worked for is right in the palms of my hands, and I’m now standing before my fate.
The last time I stood outside his room, screams of false pleasure rattled the door. It’s quiet now. I hate it. I quickly bathed in the magical bath waters of our bedroom. I’m now spotless. I’m dressed nicely.
But I don’t have a real plan ready. I don’t know how I can do it.
I won’t fuck him. I just won’t. But if that’s the only way to distract him enough to kill him…
My hair wafts against my back from how hard I shake my head at myself. Nope. Can’t do it. Killing him is one thing, sex, that’s just asking for too much. Even as a last request.
A deep inhale fills my lungs as I lift my hand to the cold door handle. My eyes close, and I count to three.
One.
Two.
A shiver of crawling fingers grips my shoulder like knives cutting into flesh.
“What are you doing?” Familiar black eyes are wide and devouring as the Night Witch assesses me from head to toe. “And why do you reek of pigs and farm animals?”
Wow. Thanks, Zilo.
“Never mind.” Her long glossy black hair skims along her inky lips as she speaks to me in a rush as she always seems to do.
“Do not kill him.” My mouth opens to interrupt her, but she quickly carries on, peering over her shoulder this way and that as she speaks.
“You don’t want it done in private. You don’t want your friends to take any blame or punishment, correct?
” A thin eyebrow lifts expectantly, but as always, she knows the answer to her very own question.
“No.”
I try to follow her line of thinking, but this is literally what we’ve wanted from the start.
“Roman will be the suspect. They will pin it on him in any way they can. The demons of this realm idolize Ravar as one of their own. The hell fae, not so much. And the hellhounds and shifters, they despise him for what he does to his very own High Hell. So do not let there be any backlash toward Roman or your friends. We’ve worked too hard for this to be a deed done in private.
” The darkness in her eyes flash, and my mind reels to find an alternate path that doesn’t harm the High Hell or myself.
“The men are planning poison for you to deliver tonight during a special announcement.” Once more, I want to ask the details of this special announcement, but she doesn’t leave time for minor things like plans or particulars.
“But as I said, they’ll put themselves in harm’s way by doing it in such a mysterious way.
Trust me. Everything will be ready tonight. Just…don’t get stabby in the meantime.”
“What exactly—”
“No. Trust me. Tonight.” She nods until I too nod back at her. “No stabby,” she echoes with seriousness.
“Okay. No stabby,” I repeat, shaking my head at how foolish this conversation suddenly feels. But a half plan is better than no plan. And that’s all my men keep leaving me with.
I blink hard, and no matter how long I hesitate, my pounding heart never calms. Finally, I accept it for what it is. This is a real goal and an almost plan. Tonight. I’ll be ready.
When I look up to tell her just that, no one’s there. Dense darkness and eerie silence are all that she leaves me with in the empty hall.
The cry of a slow pulling hinge tears me away from searching the vacancy, and when I turn toward the sound of it, the Prince is already striding out to me.
His palms push down my sides like I’m his favorite blanket he’s ready to wrap himself up in.
His head dips low, and he nuzzles my neck with his lips already parted and his tongue ready to strike.
But at the very last second, he pulls ever so slowly away, his lips curling back strangely with a questioning confusion lining his face.
Shit! I still smell like shit!
Thank the Goddess I fucking smell like flaming pig shit!
“You, um, you look delicious this morning,” he says stiffly but politely as he detangles himself from my apparent repulsive embrace.
Just to really solidify my disgusting unfuckable status a little more, I fluff my hair with a dramatic toss of my hand. “Thank you, my Prince.”
He audibly gags.
Zilo, I fucking love you. I take back every cruel thing I’ve ever thought about you.
Well, most of it.
I lift my hand to his sharp jawline, and my index finger barely makes sexy contact before he dips and dives away from my touch.
“I—” His throat clears harshly, almost like he’s fighting the urge to breathe regularly. “I have a gift for you, my lovely.”
I halt the funny business, and my hand drops to my side immediately.
A gift?
The Prince of Hell got me a gift…that’s…sweet. I guess.
I almost feel bad for leading him on. And yeah, the whole plotting his death stuff too.
“I’d like to make a special announcement tonight,” he says, and I nod quietly as if this is the first I’m hearing of the mysterious announcement. “After the announcement, I’d like to give you a very special gift to tell you how much you mean to me.”
The announcement. He’s going to announce that I’m his new bride of the century!
Confetti shoots off in my mind, and I just want to rub it in Roman’s face that I didn’t lose after all. I won.
And tonight, Prince Ravar will announce it. And then, I’ll fucking kill him to celebrate.
“You’re too generous, my Prince,” I coo.
“And you’re too salacious.” He takes a step toward me like he just can’t help himself.
But. He pauses stiffly.
It seems he can.
His throat bobs, and he stifles a breath and a noise in his throat that sounds like barely contained vomit.
“Tonight,” he confirms as he takes a step back. “I wanted to have a talk with you first,” he declares, motioning toward his room, and at this point I am very assured he’s no longer thinking about sex. He may never think about sex with me ever again.
As it should be.
I smile sweetly and sway my hips this way and that to really stir up that pheromone smell the boys were ranting and raving about not so long ago.
The Prince’s bedroom consists of one thing and one thing only. An enormous circular bed with black satin sheets perfectly fitted across the fluffy mattress.
No quilts but endless pillows adorn the bed. This space isn’t for sleeping, clearly.
Not one chair can be found in the spacious room. A fireplace flames with heat from the wall directly across from the bed, but other than that, there’s nothing else to see here.
I make myself at home and sit comfortably on the plush mattress.
He winces.
Oh, I am just killing him right now.
Just to really—literally—rub it in, I fall back against the smooth sheets and stare up at his glittering black ceiling.
“You wanted to talk?” I ask in a sultry voice.
“Yes,” he coughs, and I’m very aware of how much space he’s keeping between us.
I roll over and keep going until I pop back up and face him, my scent almost getting the best of me in this moment, but I’m too good to gag at my own smells.
At least…I think I am. My stomach turns, but I swallow the thick, sickly sensation down.
“I wanted to know about your life. Your family are white wolves?” His hand half covers his mouth in a less than discreet appearance of subtlety.
“Yes. From the Upper Realm. I lived in a quiet forest south of the regal Kingdom of Minden.” I keep the pretty smile in place, but I’m suddenly aware of how careful I should tread. I haven’t won yet. And now he’s quizzing me rather than eating up the pretty words I always feed him.
“What does your beast look like, Cersia? Is she as beautiful as you? Does she have an angry streak in her?” The depths of his inky gaze are intently held on me, and I shift as I cross my legs casually.
“I-I don’t know really. My father died years ago, and I never learned to use that side of myself.” It’s the truth. Mostly.
“Because…you’re afraid or because someone didn’t want you to?”
My lips part, and I don’t really want to admit to either, but one of those two truths is safer than the other.
“I suppose, I am afraid.” The weak wane of my smile is honest.
I hate how real those words are. But admitting that my father feared for me to reveal the beast inside myself, that’s too much to tell anyone.
I’ll die with that secret.
“But you’re not a hell fae?” he asks oddly.
A hell fae?
“Why would you think that, my Prince?”
“Answer the question, Cersia.” His lips are a thin crack against his serious face.
“No. I’m not any sort of fae.”
Pure relief smooths the tension in his features.
“They’re more shifting than any shifter I’ve ever met.
More demonic than any demon. Their glamours are forbidden, and some of their own kind have been exiled from my kingdom.
They’re lucky they’re not slaughtered into extinction like the dragons once were so long ago.
I appreciate your beauty, but do not ever lie to me.
Because I won’t hesitate to slit your pretty throat, Cersia.
” A manic glint shines in his eyes, and it’s held on me for so long I become all too aware of my beating heart.
I wonder briefly if he’s heard of the fleet of dragons that practically own the Kingdom of Minden in my world or if he’d be outraged to know that dragons like the fae, will never be tamed into extinction.
“I would never, my Prince,” I say instead with a tilt of my chin lifting high to show him as much respect as I’ve ever given anyone.
And it’s a fucking lie. I cling to that lie like it’ll save my life.
Indeed, I hope it does.
“You’re dismissed,” he says flatly with a sudden snapping click of his fingers. He does it three times.
It startles me until I realize it’s a doggy order that Avian hasn’t yet taught me.
I refrain from rolling my eyes or doing anything more than shuffle across the room with too many emotions churning through my stomach.
My gaze is lowered to the floor as I pass him by, and he moves clear out of my way as I pass. There’s no longer humor in the shitty antics anymore though.
Not a single ounce of happiness is in me.
Because I entered this room feeling like I’d won the game.
And now I’m not so sure if I’ll even survive it.