“Father.” The princess bowed before rising to climb the steps at her father’s side.
I was impressed with her mask of deception. There was no hint of fear or concern on her features. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume everything was going according to their plan.
“Ah, welcome, High King Daxton and Alpha Queen Skylar,” King Taran said, rising from his golden throne.
I didn’t trust the human king. Even if the princess hadn’t confessed to the trap being set, I could sense in my bones that something wasn’t right here. It was too quiet, too organized, like our presence would soon be a blip in the text recording human history.
I inclined my head slightly, a gesture of respect but not submission. “King Taran. Your hall and kingdom are magnificent. Thank the gods the wilt did not harm your lands as they did the Inner Kingdom.”
He smiled thinly. “Thank you, High King. But in truth, our lands to the west felt the impact of the wilt themost this past year. Burns City barely supplied enough food this past winter.”
“One winter,” Castor muttered under his breath. “Try surviving five hundred winters with the wilt on your border.”
Talon cleared his throat in warning, while Skylar and I kept our attention on the king.
“I lead a kingdom that shares a border with it,” I said, my voice even. “I understand the devastation this dark magic can bring.”
Skylar’s hand brushed my arm in a silent warning. However, I didn’t need her warning to sense the tension rising. The faint rustle of armor behind the throne. The too-casual stance of the guards. I saw it all.
I met Taran’s eyes again. “Shall we speak plainly, Your Majesty? Or will we keep skirting behind this false veil of hospitality?”
His smile didn’t falter, but something cold flashed behind it. “Plainly, then. As kings do.”
The tension in the room thickened—quiet, yet full of danger.
A handle turned on a door off to the side of the throne. “Ah, yes, come and join us,” Taran said, his smile anything but kind as his gaze turned to my mate.
I held my breath, anticipating Minaeve, but what entered was far worse.
A human male entered the throne room, wearing robes of deep cobalt blue, with slanted eyes and jet-black hair. I recognized him not by sight, but by hisscent.
Skylar stiffened beside me.
“Spitfire?”
Her rage hit me all at once. It wasn’t simmering or a quiet build. It was a roaring volcano, raw and hot, flowing through the invisible tether that bound us. I could feel it in every nerve ending, every heartbeat: the memory of his cruelty, the indignity, the terror he had inflicted.
“Hello,my pet.”
“Blade,” she answered.
Her fury became mine. It pulsed through me, thundering like a rhythmic drum of vengeance. Every thought of control I had vanished, replaced by a single, unshakable need to skin the human alive and watch the life drain from his gaze slowly…
Oh, ever so fucking slowly.
“He will not touch you. Not now. Not ever.”
In an instant—shorter than it took to take a breath—I vanished, reappearing on the far side of the hall. My hand closed around the hilt of Valencia, the blade humming with the same heat that coursed through Skylar’s veins.
Every ounce of hatred she carried for Blade surged into me, fueling my movements, guiding my strike. My body moved before my mind caught up, every step precise, every muscle coiled for impact. Valencia glowed in response to my magic, a reflection of my mate’s flames, ready to strike.
The pathetic excuse of a man barely had time to react.
“Skylar,”I said through the bond, a promise as much as a warning.“No one hurts you again.”
Faster than a racing heartbeat, I plunged my blade between his eyes, watching his life fade as my strike met itsmark. And yet a flicker of regret burned in me that I couldn’t make his suffering last.
He deserved more.
