“My apologies, sir, but she made it clear she wants to see you now.”
I close my eyes and focus on not exploding into a ball of unchecked rage. I drop the bodies to the floor. “Handle this,” I say, waving a hand toward the dozens of cambions now laying dead on the training center’s floor.
Vincente’s nose crinkles. “Yes, sir.”
He gets to work, a clump of greasy hair falling forward as he reaches for one of the fallen cambions and grasps its shirt between two fingers. I smother my smirk with a hand and exit. Vicente could have warned me it was freezing out here. The City of Sand is never this fucking cold.
Something darts through the woods in my periphery. Cora’s witches’ pets coming out to play as the sun goes down, probably. A rabbit leaps across the path in front of me. Since I’ve been on the throne, the woodland creatures have mostly gone into hiding. Gone are the deer that used to graze through the forest, that used to watch as you trudged along the cobblestone path.
“Better go hide, little bunny,” I mutter. “They’re coming.” Wraiths and cambions and drabar, to name a few.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw one of the Cursed. I was six. Asmo and I had been playing outside. We were covered in red sand and dirt, and I was fully expecting to be yelled at by Mother for tracking it inside. We walked into the living room, and there was Cora. Sitting on the vintage black leather sofa, an undead wolf at her feet, its massive head resting on her lap. Asmo shifted me behind him, and I peered overhis shoulder. Its milky eyes stared right through me. I wanted to sprint far, far away.
But I didn’t. Father wouldn’t have liked that. Between Father and the wolf, I knew the greater threat.
Days later, he made us fight it. Then, he made us fight every single one of Cora’s monsters. Cursed bears with teeth the size of fingers and panthers with claws sharper than daggers. Wraiths and osseri, made of shadows and malevolence. Cambions, who I thought were just sick kids, but were just another nightmare come true.
It didn’t take long for Asmo to beat every creature. Even at that age, he was better than me—quicker and stronger. But I was the one thinking three steps ahead and making the plans to get us out of whatever hell Father had put us in. I would usually go down first, but Asmo was there to pick me up or defend me while I got up. He always had my back.
Except for when it really mattered. When he abandoned me for Mae.
He didn’t trust me enough to see the long game. Cora was always going to win. There was no stopping her. She would have found a way to the throne, with or without me. By agreeing to help her, I just ensured I wouldn’t die. I secured power and security for my family, my court. And my brother walked away from me for it.
I run a hand through my hair as I push open the door to Cora’s bedroom. I’m instantly assaulted by the sound of her voice, and I grit my teeth. I follow it, finding her on the balcony. She stands against the railing, holding a handheld mirror as she talks to someone on the other side. Most likely one of the head witches stationed in the other courts.
Mother used to use a dark mirror to communicate with Father when they were apart. Asmo and I have used them plenty of times, against Mother’s direct instructions not to touch her items. Alas.
Cora eyes me over the mirror and smiles. I resist the urge to shove her over the railing. She wouldn’t die, though. It would only succeed in pissing her off and earning her suspicion. Something I can’t afford right now. Now that I have a fucking mate.
I have to get Elle out of here. I don’t know what Cora has plannedfor Elle, but she’s wasting away while she waits for Cora to make up her mind.
The game has changed. And I wasn’t prepared.
Cora steps away from the railing, raven hair brushing against her silky white robe. The mirror hangs at her side. She walks to the wardrobe and opens it, placing the mirror delicately inside.
“How are things in the other courts?” I ask.
“Ursine still won’t budge, but that’s fine,” she says in a sing-song voice. “It’s no matter. We’ll kill them soon enough.” She turns, white eyes settling on me. “And now it’s time to celebrate.”
I lean against the wooden bedpost, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. “Why’s that?”
“Mae is to be executed, the other Houses are in line, and now the witches are about to be a High House in a matter of days. It’s time to announce the ball.”
“For?” I ask. It comes out bored and apathetic. Her smile falters, and I refrain from smirking.
“To celebrate the witches becoming a High House, of course! We’ve been hunted and persecuted for years. It’s about time we’re treated with some respect around here.”
I sit on the bed. “Cora, what’s the plan here?” For the most part, I usually go along with whatever she wants. I give feedback and make suggestions, but she’s always the one with the final say. I’m not exactly the type to ask an ancient witch about her plans, let alone push her on them, but my patience is wearing thin these days.
Her gaze narrows. “What do you mean? I thought we were on the same page.”
I consider taking a moment to reconsider this line of questioning, but I dismiss the idea. “You want the witches to be accepted as a High House, but you’ve been using them to maintain your law and order since you took the throne. The kingdom will never accept them if the witches are killing everyone they care about. They’re even killing their pets and animals.”
She scoffs. “I can’t do anything about the animals. It’s a dog-eat-dog world. If the woodland animals can’t fend for themselves, that’s not on me or the witches. As for the hybrids, they will accept the witches orthey will die. There would be no need to execute anyone if they’d just shut up and accept them. And if they don’t, then I’m fine ruling a kingdom of just witches.”
“And what of Elle?” I ask before I can think better of it. “Do you plan to have her pretend to be Mae forever?”
She tilts her head. “Why do you ask, Marik? Are you too weak to control her for much longer?”
