Page 26 of Veil of Night & Flames

He scowled. Of course she’d overheard. Kali had ears everywhere.

He shrugged casually. “Let them flap their tongues. That is not part of her culture’s ceremony. We must all make allowances for custom.”

“Hmm.” She stepped closer, then rested her hand on his arm. “I can give you what she won’t,” she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “I always have.”

He looked at her hand. At her face—beautiful, sharp, and utterly without warmth. He’d taken comfort in her since The Breaking. More, he’d appreciated the simplicity of it. He hadn’t loved her, nor she him. She’d come to his bed craving power, proximity, and the pleasures that came with both. He had welcomed her as a release. A companion. A barrier against stagnation and boredom.

She had been his right hand at court and in the castle, and she had served him in bed, too.

Slowly, he let his gaze move from the hand on his arm to the harshness of her eyes.

“No more,” he said.

Her hand did not move. “And once you are wed? She will never let you bed her. She’s made that clear. She will not be the one to bring the barriers down. Too bad the prophecy requires consent. I know how much it would arouse my king to force his royal cock between her thighs and⁠—”

He yanked his arm free.

Her smile was sickly sweet. “I know my king.”

“We are done. Leave now, Kali, or you will leave with an escort.”

Anger flared in her eyes.

A moment passed. Then another. “As you wish, my king.” She stepped back and bowed, the gesture overly servile. When she straightened, the smile she gave him was hard enough to cut glass.

He kept his expression bland. It had to be done. She was still his lieutenant. She would honor his wishes. And while acquiescence might come slowly, she would honor his bride as well.

With a feeling of lightness that came from being free of a burden, he turned his back to the bar and let his gaze sweep over the celebration.

Chase still stood by the doors, his gaze fixed on Adric with an expression that had nothing casual about it.

Adric sighed, squared his shoulders, then crossed to his brother.

They hadn’t spoken directly since the ceremony. Even then, the closest thing to conversation had been the moment Chase placed Cora’s hand in his and stepped back without a word.

“Brother,” Adric said.

“Don’t.” Chase’s voice was flat. “I came to say one thing.”

“Then say it.”

“You have four realms.” Chase held up four fingers, then closed them into a fist, leaving only his thumb exposed. “You don’t get the fifth. The Realm of the Real is mine. My territory. My people. My duty. Stay out of it.”

Adric stepped closer, wondering as he often did at the strength that must flow in this man. Because how else could he bear the weight of all the Brides he’d killed across the millennia in a feeble attempt to circumvent prophecy? Women whose blood Chase had spilled for no better reason than to foolishly maintain the barriers that Adric would soon bring down?

All those Brides, and all for naught, because the mighty Hunter couldn’t bring himself to kill Cora, the last, final Bride.

The Bride who would soon share Adric’s bed. And who, one day, would stand at his side while Adric built a new world from the rubble.

“Dammit,” Chase snapped, pulling Adric back to the conversation. “I mean it, brother. Stay out of the Real.”

Adric inclined his head. “I hear you. But it is not within your purview to tell me where I can go. Especially not on the day when my chains come off.”

“I’m telling you where you’re not welcome. You have your betrothed. You have your freedom. You have your kingdom and your dragons and your court of monsters. You have your truces and arrangements with the other realms.”

Chase stepped closer. “You don’t get the Real.” His voice had dropped, now low and dangerous. “Neither the realm nor her life there. Nor her friends. Nor her world. That’s mine.”

Adric took another step, ready to remind his brother that Cora was his betrothed. Ready to point out that he had already escorted her to the Real that morning. That he had walked in the very air that Chase considered his own.