“You may have a seat at this table, Syrus. But that’s all it is. A seat. And that’s only because your father got it for you. Your words hold no weight here. I suggest you remember that the next time you speak.”
A flush began to creep up Syrus’ neck, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his jaw. “I am a Lord. I have every right—”
“You may be a Lord, Syrus. But I am a Prince and the next King. You may have inherited your title just as I have, but the difference between you and me is that I also committed my life to earning my title. And in case it slipped your mind, I can also take yours away.”
While some of the council’s eyes widened—flicking between Daemon and Syrus with curious expressions—others fell to the table, finding anything to focus on other than the storm brewing in the room.
Syrus scoffed, leaning back in his chair as if he hadn’t a care in the world as his lip pulled up into a sneer. “Maybe if you started using what’s inside thatpretty headof yours instead of thinking with your dick, we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. I mean, I get it. Truly, I do.” Syrus’ lips pulled up into a knowing smile. “I can still feel the way she melted against me as we danced.”
Images of Syrus dancing with Auraelia at both the Summer and Fall solstice celebrations burned through his mind. The way his hands constantly dipped too low on her back, the uncomfortable look on her face. It had taken more restraint than he thought he had not to pull her from his arms and even morenot to cut the man’s hands from his body right then and there. He called on that restraint now as Syrus continued.
“Her body is quite supple, isn’tPrince Daemon?”
“Watch it.” The words came out as a warning growl, but Syrus didn’t seem to take the hint. Daemon spent his life learning the ins and outs of politics. How to act during these meetings and keep his composure when people were determined to get a rise out of him. But all of that training meant nothing as the next words spilled from Syrus’ lips.
“I’m sure you could seduce her into giving you her kingdom. It’s not like that bitch Auraelia is fit to rule anyway.”
Black.
Endless, impenetrable darkness enveloped the room before gathering together and slamming Lord Syrus into the nearest wall. Cords of shadow wrapped around his neck, his arms, and his torso, lifting him until his feet dangled over the ground. Choked sounds came from his lips as Daemon appeared in front of him, like a nightmare given flesh.
“Howdareyou.” Venom dripped from every word. “How dare you speak her name.” Ropes of black slithered up Syrus’ body, sliding along his face like they were searching for a place to burrow into. “QueenAuraelia has done more for her kingdom since she took the throne than you have in the whole of your miserable life. She’s endured the worst of what the world had to throw at her with more grace and dignity than you have in your entire body. And you think that, what?” Daemon’s gaze raked down his body, a sneer pulling one side of his lips upward. “That since you’re aman—and trust me when I say that I use that term lightly—that she’s unfit to rule?”
Syrus’ face was splotchy, his eyes bulging out from their sockets, lips purpling under the grip Daemon’s shadows held on his throat.
“I’m—sorry,” he managed through a choked breath.
Daemon’s laugh was sinister as he leaned infinitesimally closer. “I don’t want your sorry excuse of an apology, you worthless piece of shit.” He leaned in further until his lips were a breath away from Syrus’ ear, his voice low as he ground out, “I want to hear you choke as I rob your body of air. I want to watch the life leave your eyes. Only then will you be worthy of saying her name, and that’s only because you won’t be able to.”
Voices came from around him, but their sound was muffled by the rage roaring in his ears. He had just begun to tighten the grip around Syrus’ neck when the melodic tone of his mother filtered through the fog of fury, shining an incandescent light into the darkness.
“Be still, my son. Release him. He’s not worth it.”
In all his life, he’d only experienced his mother’s ability a handful of times—and it was usually when he wasn’t paying attention to his tutors. But as an adult, she’d never infiltrated his mind. Never slipped into his thoughts. She viewed it as an invasion of privacy, and that respect for Daemon’s personal boundaries always brought her the truth she sought without having to pull it from his mind.
“Mother—” Daemon internally growled, his eyes staying locked on the man before him.
“I know. But he’s not worth the trouble this will undoubtedly bring you. Let him go.”
Daemon huffed a disgruntled breath and yanked his shadows back into himself, sending Syrus crumbling to the floor.
“What is wrong with you?!” Lord Cassius bellowed as he rushed to his son’s side.
“Lord Cassius, Lord Syrus, you are hereby dismissed from your positions on this council.” Daemon’s voice was calm and detached, his hands sliding into his pockets as he stared down at the two men.
“You can’t do that!” Syrus screeched from the floor, eyes wide with panic as he rubbed the column of his throat.
“He can.” The deep timbre of his father’s voice filled the chamber, reverberating off the walls and silencing the protests that had begun to arise from the other members of the council.
“Your Majesty, surely you can’t mean—” Lord Cassius stammered.
“You heard your prince. Now get that whimpering mess you call a man off my floor, and remove yourselves immediately. You are both dismissed, Cassius.” The finality in King Evander’s tone seemed to shake Lord Cassius to the core—his eyes narrowed into slits, his face turning cherry red as he yanked his son from the floor and practically dragged him out of the room.
Tension settled over the space, heavy like black clouds before a storm. “Does anyone else have anything that they would like to say?” King Evander asked, a singular brow rising in question.
What remained of the council shook their heads slowly before they all dropped to a knee with their heads bowed. It was Lord Slater who broke the silence. “No, Your Majesty. We are here to serve you.”
“You want to serve me? Listen to what my son has to say. His is the only voice that matters when I am not present.” The king turned toward Daemon. There was a heaviness of guilt in his gaze and a softness to his voice as he said, “And sometimes, even when I am, his is the voice of reason.” Turning back to address the council more directly, he asked, “Is that understood?”
