The Commander leaned towards me, bowing his head to hide his lips. “Which one can I kill to prove a point?” he whispered, so only I could hear.
Down the bond came steady, controlled bloodlust begging to be set free. But I could feel him waiting for my approval.
The name spilled from my mouth before the thought had formed. “The viscount.”
I should have felt bad, but the viscount’s slimy words from the Ascension ball crawled through my head.
The Commander pushed off the edge of the throne and strode towards the Mortals. My father did well not to retreat, but a satisfied smirk tilted my lips when he flinched.
The Commander prowled straight to the viscount, his regal features twisting into fear as he raised his hands.
But the Commander didn’t slow. He slammed his fist into the viscount’s stomach so hard that he dropped to the floor and the air whooshed from his lungs. The Commander drove his knee into Barden’s face, blood spraying from the impact. Barden wheezed, making pathetic whimpering sounds. The Commander drew a dagger from his belt and caught Barden’s face in his grip, fingers crushing his cheeks together as he forced his head up.
He ran the blade down his face, not hard enough to cut his skin, but enough to threaten. “See, when I am not listened to…” He pressed the blade into his skin and Barden cried out in pain. “I get a little violent.”
“You and the bitch can go to hell!” Barden spat, blood spraying with each word.
The Commander laughed, a dangerous chuckle that promised pain. “Haven’t you heard? Hell is already here.” He slammed the blade down, sinking it to the hilt through his eye with a wet, nauseating squelch. Barden’s body crumpled against the ground as the Commander ripped his knife free.
He paused in front of my father, towering over him to wipe the blood from his blade on the king’s cloak. I had never seen my father so angry, so humiliated and it was delicious.
“See, little king, I can unite the Kingdoms by force if I must. The only reason I do not take your throne with blood is because of Lyra. Because she wants to do itpeacefully.” He leant down to look my father in the eye. “Beg for her mercy. Or die.”
Aldric was the first to drop to his knees. The others followed. Even Dreya knelt, obvious disdain oozing from her.
As if it were the most painful thing he had ever done, the King of the Mortal Kingdom knelt below me.
“The Mortal Kingdom begs you for your mercy and protection, Lyra.”
“Please,” Aldric said looking up at me first, then at the Commander. I wasn’t sure if the circles under his eyes were bruises, or from exhaustion. “This isn’t just politics. Not anymore. The creatures are multiplying; our Kingdom is infested.”
Before I Ascended, there were no monsters in the Mortal Kingdom. I didn’t understand why, and judging by the curiosity pulsing through the bond, neither did the Commander.
“Say plainly what you want,” the Commander demanded at Vaylor.
“I want the marriage finalized today, the alliance in effect immediately, Fae warriors to travel to the Mortal Kingdom as protection, and access to fresh produce,” he listed his demands. The throne room erupted in whispers and outrage, but through it all, the Commander did not look away from me. He was reading me through the bond, gauging my feelings while still respecting my wish to keep my mind untouched.
“You ask for much, little king,” he said softly. “You arefortunate I would give anything for your daughter. But she has the final say.”
“Lyra Meridian,” he said, dark and deliberate. “Will you marry me today?”
The room held its breath and the world narrowed to a single word humming beneath my skin.
Even now, he was offering me something I had never been given. Control.
“Yes.”
A small, private smile tugged at the Commander’s mouth as he looked at me in disbelief. Love and bittersweet joy surged down the bond in such a wave my breath hitched.
“Then it is done,” the Commander said to Vaylor. “The alliance will be sealed with our vows when the moon rises.” He walked back to where I sat on the throne and perched on the armrest, shadows crawling to him from the corners of the room. “Caelum, show the Mortals where they will be staying and ensure food is sent to their rooms.”
Caelum walked towards the door deliberately stepping over the viscount’s corpse.
My father stood, shooting one wary glance at me before looking down at my brother still kneeling against ground.
“Aldric—”
“No,” my brother snapped over the top of him as he rose to his feet, boots planting against the marble as if daring him to pull his leash.
