Cadence
The tension in the council chamber was suffocating.
The cold stone walls loomed around us as Ryker and I entered side by side. Behind us, the doors groaned shut like the maw of some beast swallowing its prey.
And when everyone turned in our direction, that’s precisely what I felt like.
Prey.
Despite my discomfort, I raised my chin and kept my unease from showing. But the murmurs that rippled through the council members scraped across my skin like grit beneath silk.
The Unseelie Council sat around a long table that was carved of dark, ancient wood and etched with intricate patterns that formed a beautiful border. The King sat at the head, with his eight lords arranged on both sides. They were all dressed in impeccable tunics of midnight blue, crimson red, or forest green. Some even wore small silver or gold diadems set with precious gems.
As we drew closer, some councilors narrowed their eyes, whispering behind gloved hands. An older man glared at me down his hawk-like nose, his lips curled in disdain, before jumping to his feet.
“She cannot be here,” he said, gesturing toward me as though I were something he had scraped off the bottom of his boot. “This is a closed meeting, Your Highness. It is for council members and royal blood only.”
“Lord Thorne.” Ryker spoke slowly, deliberately.
Those seated next to him leaned away as though they might perish if they came too close.
“I mean no disrespect, my Prince. I am only stating the rules.”
“Of course,” Ryker said, derision dripping from his tone.
Darkness pooled around Ryker’s boots before inky tendrils spilled into the space between us and the council. Frightened gasps and tiny whimpers broke out as the shadows started to twist and climb their way up the table.
“Your Highness.” Lord Thorne’s voice rose an octave as the blackened strands snaked up his legs, moving higher.
Before he could utter another word, a coil of darkness yanked him back into his seat, snapping his spine against the carved wood with a dull thud. A second shadow slithered up his throat, wrapping around his neck and plunging between his lips, silencing him.
The entire hall watched in horror as the man’s eyes bulged and he turned a violent shade of red. He clawed at his face in a vain attempt to rip the shadows free, but they only vibrated and thickened in response.
Lord Thorne convulsed as he choked on the unnatural mass. Veins stood out across his temples as his face turned an impossibly darker shade, no longer crimson, but a deep, alarming purple.
The room was deathly still. No one dared to move or even breathe.
Lord Thorne’s legs kicked once beneath the table, followed by a second, weaker jerk. A grotesque gurgle rose from his throat, and foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull before he fell forward, unmoving.
“Does anyone else feel like dictating who I may and may not bring to my own council meeting?” Ryker glanced toward the other councilors, but only silence met him.
“No? Then let’s begin, shall we?”
Ryker clicked his fingers, and two servants appeared. He gestured toward Lord Thorne’s dead body and told the men to remove him from the dining hall.
I was reminded once again of how dangerous my husband truly was. He’d ended a man’s life without lifting a finger.
Callum had been a fool to antagonize him. Ryker had only been toying with him. Had he chosen to, my brother would have been dead with a flick of his wrist.
That thought haunted me as we moved toward our seats. Ryker glared at the man sitting to the right of his father.
“You are in my seat,” he said. His glare shifted to the council members seated next to him. “Move. All of you.”
The lords practically fell over themselves as they scurried aside, eager to put distance between themselves and their Prince.
Ryker pulled out the chair next to his and inclined his head for me to take a seat. I could feel the sting of glares burning into my flesh, but none dared to speak.
Not after that display.
