“The catch, Monstaru Roi,” I whispered. “What is it?”
Tassarion grinned like a fiend when I called him Monster King.
“Dearest Phantimèssa, by now you should have gathered that I am a benevolent king.”
He chuckled as darkness permeated the lair. The souls danced and laughed like drunken ghosts. I gripped the skirts of my gown, recognizing I’d been trapped. And it was too late to run.
“I will keep you safe by any means necessary. By blood, bone, and life.” A salacious grin. “Andyouwill become my wingmate. My bride. Phantimèssa, you will becomemine.”
Chapter 12
Tassarion
I paced under the twilight,bare feet sinking into the sand. I raised my eyes to the canopy of starlight. A twinge of pain twisted my six hearts. I couldn’t look at the stars without thinking of Manmi, Papi, Tovares, and Vitani.
EspeciallyVitani.
Each time I found the smallest star in the night's tapestry, I thought of my little sister, and my hearts would bleed all over again. She would have just crossed her First Millennia, finally entering the era of true angelic maturity. No longer a youngling, or even a growing wildling. She would’ve now been a full-grown female, ready to step into her own in this world.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat, unable to bear the anguish that grieved my very bones when I thought of my beloved family, and how badly I missed every one of them. Instead of breaking beneath my grief, I focused on the matchless beauty of the twinight.
My wings bowed in surrender to the majesty of the stars. The glory of the billows. The commanding terror of the mighty ocean that swelled and crashed below.
I was a mess of nerves, and I couldn’t stand it.
I grew hot, cold, then hot all over again.
I’d asked Nahomie if she’d accept a marital bond by arrangement for the full might of my crown and power for her protection. Androtme. The pretty Nalyen Seraphim had said yes.
I was in no mood to wait to seal our bond. To make her my bride. To make her mine. So I put her back in Saundeiah’s capable hands and gave her the rest of the dawn to beautify Nahomie for this moment. Now I waited here in the sand for the angel I was convinced could finally break Zemshaza’s rotting curse.
I took my eyes from the stars and lowered them to the ocean. This late at night, the water looked pitch-black. An absolutely humbling, yet terrifying, sight. My hands were clammy. A nervous energy hummed through my body as I listened to the crashing waves of the sea.
Behind me, Everthorn Manor rose like a menacing obelisk of ebony stone that had a shine to it like sable glass. The manor reached high into the clouds, perched at the very end of the bedrock that ended Mortevain Island. Long, gnarled thorns coiled around the manor, as if choking it from the outside. And surrounding the manor on every side was a stone fence not even Taétan Giants could break through.
I loved my home.
And once upon a time, the Vainyens loved it, too.
Until we were betrayed.
After the invasion of Zemshaza and his Fallen Angels, everything in Mortevain changed. When I escaped from the Underrealm and came home, five centuries of time had been lost. I was exiled by my own angels because of my deformities and uncontrollable rage. Viewed as an abomination. A living curse. I was banished to our manor, and the citizens of Mortevain never visited again. Those who remained loyal to uswere ostracized and turned into societal pariahs. Those who opposed us now lived like kings.
I’d always vowed to unleash my vengeance on the traitor that ruined my family, my home, my entire rotting life. He’d done well to keep himself, and his family, hidden from me. The dawn would I arrive when I would finally discover where they were hiding on the island. And when it came, there would be hèls to pay.
I watched how the starlight fell on the sides of the manor as I continued waiting. Word had spread like wildfire among the Nanmiess and Esprits. The souls had always been gossips, but the spirits were worse.
“Our Roi has finally found a wingmate.”
“We’re finally going to have a Roièssa!”
The whispers had gone high and low.
But this wasn’t a celebration.
I cast a glance at the black sea. I tried to feel guilty for my deception. There wasn’t a shred to be found. I’d hunted for salvation for three centuries. I’d finally found it by a stroke of fate thanks to my Gargorètti. Was it wrong not to tell Nahomie the truth? Not to confess that this was a trap?
The beautiful Seraphim was no fool. She was independent. Intelligent. A force in her own right. Sooner than later she’d uncover the real reason for this arrangement. It wasn’t like I didn’t make it fair. She needed cover from the Empyrean and their hunting dogs. I needed her blood to break this rotting curse.
