I felt the rolling energy of bloodlust coming from the guards and everyone in this room. We all wanted our vengeance, and I would ensure we got it, but not until we procured the information we needed.
A growl escaped me when a sudden, gut-wrenching thought barreled into me. How did this vampyre not only make it through our castle undetected, but also manage to get close enough to decapitate Myrin so effortlessly?
It bothered me to no end, trying to figure out how the two vampyres had captured Kyella undetected, and now this? There was no question: there was a traitor in our midst.
Clenching my fists tightly, pain radiated from the meaty part of my palms where my nails dug into the skin. Only barely was I restraining myself from pulverizing this bastard’s face. After I was done with this piece of shit, I would be relentless in my pursuit of finding out who the fuck the traitor was, and their screams would echo through the castle’s halls for days before I gifted them their death.
Dakath and Kolvar stepped forward, and I forced myself to throw my hands out to stop them.
“Hold.”
My shaky command to my brothers wasn’t one I wanted to issue, but I knew it was the best choice. My brain tried to squash the rampant desire to rip his head clean from his body as he had done to my dear friend.
My vision blurred, and anger began to cloud my judgment as the look of relief on Myrin’s face after showing her true self swam to the front of my mind. My stomach turned at the memory of the joy falling from her face, swiftly being replaced with pain and then a minute moment of shock. That was how her last moments were lived…in agony and betrayal.
Sniffles of sorrow and the anxious shuffling of feet from those around me grounded me back in the moment.
Focus, Elijah.
Determined, single-minded focus was necessary at this moment. A moment where I was forced to move beyond my shock and grief to quickly assess any and every potential outcome of the situation in order to ensure the safety of everyone in this room, including my brothers and, most importantly, Kyella.
As I took a moment to slowly survey the crowd in my spin to face Kyella, I was almost moved to tears by the grief I saw etched onto the faces of our people. A people who had loved their Empress and followed her willingly, without ever knowing her true identity. Tears of agony poured down some faces while others had pinched lips and slanted eyes, accompanied by tightened fists that screamed fury.
“Guards,” my voice boomed out, commanding everyone’s attention once more. “Clear the room of all civilians and new recruits. I want an established guard only. Tonight, we will have a vigil for our Empress for all to pay respects as the news spreads throughout the lands.”
It was a calculated move, but after watching the crowd, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold them off for long. I wasn’t certain I could hold my own self back with their energy feeding my own.
The time to control the chaos of the moment was slipping through my fingers, and it was pivotal that I acted. Chaos wasn’t something that could be afforded right now, and this was the type that would allow the assassin to escape and potentially hurt others. That possibility wasn’t fucking acceptable.
We needed answers, and then he needed to fucking die.
But the most important reason I wanted the room cleared was because Myrin deserved better than to be gaped at in her death. She should be honored and thought of as the strong leader she had been to us all. This last, gory moment couldn’t be her legacy—couldn’t be what existed in the people’s memory of her.
Begrudgingly, people began to file out of the room at my command, without even the guard forcing them to. It was a slow process, though, due to the sheer number of bodies in the room. Admittedly, some of them seemed to be dragging their feet a bit, likely curious about what would come of the Empress’s murderer.
My eyes fell to my love, who was currently on her knees, and I watched her body tremble as she stared down at the decapitated head of our Empress. A crimson stain of Myrin’s blood spread across the marble floor, in stark contrast to the white marble as it pooled around the woman I loved. Everything in me wanted to pull her into my arms and take her from this scene, but I couldn’t be the one who nurtured her right now. I had to be the one to move us forward, despite the overwhelming rage and grief coursing through me. Through all of us.
“Make sure she’s okay,” I murmured as Dakath crouched down next to Kyella and Kolvar gently moved Myrin’s head from her line of sight.
I stepped toward the center of the room to face the assassin, and the soon-to-be-dead vampyre offered me a smile as I picked up his discarded sword and inspected it. I didn’t want to think he could be from our own empire, but I knew small hints would tell me where hewasfrom: like the metal his weapon was forged from and how it was crafted. Only a skilled swordsman, one with knowledge of both the Tridian and Thaician Empires, would be able to find those minute details. I was that swordsman.
“What is your name?” I asked him as I inspected the metal in the light of the room, gritting my teeth as I caught the faintest blue tint to the metal. My gut wrenched knowing that the metal was only found in our lands. Either he was from here, or he’d taken the weapon of someone who was.
When I dropped the sword, allowing it to hang at my side, a feminine growl carried through the air, confusing me. Glancing over, I saw Kyella’s gaze resting completely on the prisoner. Her fangs protruded from mouth, peaking just over her plush bottom lip, and there was a manic glint to her eyes I’d never seen before.
“Ky,” Dakath murmured as her breathing increased rapidly, and a malevolent energy began to roll off her in waves that crashed into me, leaving me feeling breathless and slightly stunned. “Let’s go. You don’t need to see this.”
She was out for blood, and at that moment, I didn’t think it mattered who got in her way of getting it. I didn’t see an ounce of the woman I loved in those golden orbs of hers. Pure, unadulterated malice shone brightly in her eyes as she pushed to her full height, smiling wickedly at her prey. Shock is all that kept me in place as she stared maliciously toward the assassin.
The sound of beating wings briefly pulled my gaze to the side, and I watched as Barnabus glided to land on Kyella’s shoulder. The added weight of the Empress’s familiar on her shoulder didn’t seem to phase her in the least. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure she even recognized his appearance.
“My name is Freyen,” the culprit finally answered as his gaze clashed with Kyella’s. “And I’ll let you be my trophy as I sit atop this new throne Malakai has given me. You’re a pretty little bitch.”
There was nothing I could do to restrain myself after that. I dashed forward and grabbed the back of his head before I slammed it into the floor, relishing in the sound of it cracking against the marble and smiling as his blood began to seep across the floor.
“Why did you kill our Empress?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to bait us into changing topics.
“YourEmpress,” he spit angrily, lifting his head just enough to turn to the side and look at me out of the corner of his eye, “was an absolute joke. How you managed to have a successful empire while ruled by a woman is beyond me. Then again, maybe she wasn’t making any of the decisions. Maybe it was you doing the hard work, which would make much more sense. After all, there are only a few things women are good for.”
