The demonic lions roar a warning.
“Don’t touch me.” Lanlin sounds panicked for the first time.
Aurelius pulls back, placing his hands smartly behind his back.
His expression shutters but he looks down on Lanlin like he’s a bug. “You need to learn more humility. I am your Emperor now. Prostrate yourself.”
Daire hisses under his breath, “Bloody bastard.”
By the way that Lanlin glances in Daire’s direction in interest, I wonder whether he’s heard.
He doesn’t protest, however, instead sensuously bending forward. His muscles ripple through his robe, as he slips his arms along the floor until he is prostrating himself in front of his enemy.
Aurelius’ eyes dance with a darkness that I have never seen before. Except, has he only hidden it from me?
His mouth quirks up in amusement. “Lower.”
I feel sick.
Lanlin’s iron tipped gloves scrape across the floor, gouging claw marks. He presses his forehead to the floor. His long hair trails around him in waves.
When Aurelius lifts his foot, as if to stomp it down on the Blood’s neck, I rear back in shock. “Don’t.”
Lanlin sits back to kneel on his heels so fast that he is nothing but a blur.
“Are you keeping any of my people in your dungeons?” Lanlin narrows his eyes at Aurelius, as imperious all of a sudden as the dragon king and as if he hasn’t just prostrated himself in front of him. “I will perform any more tricks that you wish like the animal you clearly believe me to be, if you release them.”
For the first time, Aurelius looks thrown. “Prisoners? Why would I?”
I notice the way that Maximinus has deliberately taken a step back.
Adrenaline spikes through me, when I remember the prisoner who looked like Lanlin: The one who Maximinus brought into this hall where Lanlin is now, gagged and bound, to be burned alive to honor Tarquin on his deathday memorial.
Who was he to Lanlin?
Lanlin’s gaze flicks to Daire, before to my surprise softening. “Because you keep gods as pets.”
“Gods?” Daire quirks his brow at Aurelius. “Hear that? I like him more than you already, boss.”
“And I don’t like you at all,” Aurelius deadpans. “I hope that he fucking breaks you, fae fucker.”
The ferocity…cruelty…of his words slaps me as hard as it does Daire, who pales.
He looks stricken.
I know that it’s part of the act.
Has this all been a performance? Or has only part of it been fake?
It certainly provokes Lanlin into action.
He surges like smoke and shadows to his feet. “You will not address my new Blood Lover. Now, I have knelt. I have listened to as much as I will endure from a dragon. I am taking my fae and my new bride.”
When he turns to Daire, his gaze darkens. “Follow.”
Daire launches himself to his feet. His pretty white wings spread wide, as if he is one of Lanlin’s moths in the dark, which are now circling the demonic lions.
Then Lanlin beckons to me with his clawed hand.
