Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2)

by Morgana Phoenix

  Gideon cleared his throat. “That is very kind of—”

  “That is my condition,” Tian interjected. “I will tell you everything I know and you will enjoy drinks, music, and the delicacies of our kind.”

  Gideon pulled in a deep breath, forced a smile and replied, “Your highness is gracious. We would be honored.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The chamber Gideon was taken to was four times the size of his room back at Final Judgment. The furniture was dark oak, polished furiously to gleam every time the sun glinted off the gold floors. The emerald green sheets were silk and matched the drapes fluttering with the quiet breeze blowing through the glassless windows. It was oddly sparse with only the necessities taking up such a grand room. An armoire, two nightstands on either side of the bed, a wardrobe, a dresser, and a small sitting area tucked away in front of an unlit fireplace. There were no carpets to stave off the cold chill coming off the floors, no paintings to brighten up the space. Just a vast emptiness that felt more prison-like than Gideon liked.

  Nevertheless, he accepted his temporary quarters and the odd bit of fabric left behind by one of the girls that had shown him the way.

  For a moment, when he picked it up off the bed, Gideon thought that maybe it looked so small, because it was neatly folded. But his confidence remained unimpressed even after he unfolded the bits of leather and tried to piece together just what it was.

  There was a long rectangular piece and a long, thin string piece.

  He held both up, hoping that if he squinted, tilted his head left, tilted his head right, their purpose would come better into focus. But all it did was put a crick in his neck, a strain behind his right eye and a horrific thought in his mind.

  The long piece looked like a diaper.

  “Dear god...” he muttered under his breath as it all finally made sense.

  A loincloth.

  They expected him to wear a loincloth.

  While it wasn’t that he didn’t have the body for it, Gideon had never fancied paraphilic infantilism—the fetish of pretending one was a baby. Loincloths always reminded him of the times his mother would wrap one around Reggie’s bottom while she hummed and blew raspberries in his chubby belly, making him squeal and kick. It was, in Gideon’s opinion, the thing that separated grown men from infants. It was why pants were invented, so men would no longer worry if their bits were slipping out to wave to the world. But there was no decent way to refuse without insulting Tiana and there was too much at stake to worry about a penis slip.

  “So wrong,” he muttered grumpily as he reached to unfasten his pants.

  Folding everything neatly and setting them aside on a nearby chair, Gideon slipped the wider bit of leather between his legs, fumbled slightly as he tried to tie the string around his waist and finally managed to tuck everything properly in the getup. Like all the others, the main piece was long enough to drape over the string and cover the bulge in front and the crack of his ass in the back. Thank God, because no way in hell was he walking around with his ass cheeks flapping in the breeze.

  Stalking to the ornate mirror tucked away in a corner next to the bathroom, Gideon surveyed the sight he made with a shrewd eyebrow raised. He turned his body left, turned his body right, and squinted.

  His body was perfect, long toned legs, hard, strong arms and a muscular chest. It all made up a package that women appreciated and admired. Gideon wasn’t ignorant of his appeal. He had used it often enough. But even then, even when the scrap of fabric made him look severely hot, it felt like he was about to parade through an entire city in his underwear.

  The door to his bedroom opened without a knock and Magnus strolled in already working his fancy new waistcloth. He wore no shoes and his long hair was fastened at the back of his skull with a black cord. The tattoos on his arms moved with every confident swing, and Gideon raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t you look ready to kill a buffalo,” he teased.

  Magnus smirked. “Jealousy is very unbecoming.”

  Gideon snorted, twisting back towards the mirror to examine the muscles bunching across his back. “Bitch, please, I make this shit look good.”

  He caught the roll of Magnus’ eyes in the reflection. “I came to show you the way down to the feast, that is, if you’re done admiring your ass.”

  Gideon met his brother’s gaze. “It is a severely fine ass, but yes, I am done admiring my flawless beauty. You may lead the way.”

  Shaking his head, Magnus turned, but not before Gideon caught his grin. He led the way to the door and out into the corridor beyond. They walked shoulder to shoulder back the way Gideon had originally been shown.

  “So, tell me where you disappeared to,” Gideon prodded. “You abandoned us and ran off with your homies. Then,” he went on before Magnus could respond. “I hear you’re off to see some Miana chick. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

  “Because it was none of your business,” Magnus retorted evenly. “Unlike you, I don’t broadcast my endeavors to the world. Also, Miana isn’t a chick. She’s not even human.”

  Gideon’s eyes widened. “Demon?”

  Magnus visibly cringed. “Fuck no!” He glowered straight ahead. “She’s a horse.”

  Gideon narrowly tripped. “You’re fucking a horse?”

  Without a shred of warning, Magnus punched him in the shoulder, and he was holding nothing back.

  “She is the queen’s horse!” Magnus snapped. “I was entrusted to tame her.”

  Gideon frowned, rubbed his bruised and throbbing shoulder. “You tame horses?”

  Magnus resumed walking, not waiting for Gideon to follow. “I assist the queen with many of her animals.”

  It was Gideon’s turn to roll his eyes. “Dude, I know I’ve been telling you to find a woman, but I didn’t mean for you to find someone older than the planet, okay? That’s a bit like banging your great, great, great, great, great—”

  “Will you stop?” Magnus cut in.

  “Hold on, I’m not done. Great, great, great—”

  Magnus punched him again, in the same arm, making the muscles there scream in pain.

  “Jesus!” Gideon cradled his injury.

  “The Draconian are a loyal and fierce race,” Magnus snapped defensively. “Show some respect.”

  Gideon eyed his brother warily. “Uh huh, yeah, okay, fine. Relax. God, it was a joke. What’s your problem?”

  Magnus said nothing and the pair made their way through the palace in the direction of the thrumming music and loud chatter. Gideon wondered how it was that Magnus knew the place so well, or how he knew the Draconian for that matter, but he kept his questions to himself. The whole topic seemed off limits and Magnus never shared unless he wanted to.

  The hall opened to a set of enormous, arched doors that led into a chamber lit solely by candlelight. On the threshold, it took Gideon’s eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden loss of vibrant light.

  Inside, the music was warm and soothing, reminding him of lying flat on his back in a stream as the sun warmed the water around him. Each note flowed over his skin and tickled the fine hairs at the base of his neck to rise. He closed his eyes and drank it in, drew it through his nostrils, his ears and mouth and let it slither into his veins.

  “You arrived.”

  Gideon pried open his eyes. The progression was slow, more of a necessity than a desire. He blinked at the hulking figure standing before them in his man-diaper and smug grin.

  “Come. The queen would like for you to join her.”

  Gideon followed because there was nothing else to do and, well, the queen had requested it. Until they had gotten the information they had come to get, they were her bitches.

  The exact size of the room was impossible to judge. Most of it was painted in shadows. The hundred or so candles were kept mainly around the table area with the odd one illuminating a patch of empty space where Gideon assumed was the dance floor; it was directly beneath a stage supporting a single woman in a fl
owing black dress. In the dimness, her pale skin appeared almost translucent. Her riot of auburn curls were held back by a black band, exposing the oval shape of her face. She was beautiful ... at first glance. But the longer he stared, the more abnormal she became.

  Her joints were too long, too thin as they worked the fine tunes of the lute perched precociously across a knobby knee. Her fingers had too many bends, giving them an almost spider-like appearance. She was too tall, too unnaturally skinny. Her waist couldn’t possibly be bigger than a dime. Her face was too pointed at the chin. Her forehead was too wide. She had no lips, only a thin line where her mouth should have been, and when she opened her eyes, they were pools of crimson. Gideon had killed enough of her kind to recognize what she was, Jorōgumo. A spider demon.

  It explained why her music had such an effect on him. Jorōgumo demons lured their male prey by playing a song, and while the poor shmuck was hypnotized, she would bind them with her web. Fortunately this one must have been under strict orders to tone the magic down, because none of the male guests were getting eaten.

  The queen greeted them with a polite inclination of her head from the high table overlooking the entire room. Kyros motioned Gideon and Magnus to take a seat at the round table just beneath the queen’s. It must have been a place of great honor, because several heads turned in their direction and the whispers were nearly as loud as the lute.

  “Casters?”

  “They were invited by the queen!”

  “Guests.”

  Gideon ignored them and really focused on the room, trying to see it for the sight that it was. But the shadows were too thick and there were too many people seated in the tier system the queen seemed to have. There were rows of tables, each casually descending like cake melting on one side. The tables at the bottom were spread out across the entire length of one side of the room. The rest were piled in twos and threes along the layers to the top. His and Magnus’s table was first before the queen. There was another table a few feet away, but it was empty. Gideon and Magnus were the only ones at theirs. The queen, in the center of a long, narrow table, was surrounded by stone-faced, straight-backed women. Four on either side.

  Kyros pulled up a chair next to Magnus and sat.

  “I am glad you are here,” he told them. “I have been trying to talk your brother into joining one of our awakenings, but he refuses.”

  “I am not a Draconian,” Magnus reminded him. “The awakening is meant for girls to find suitable Draconian warriors as mates in the hopes of bearing children. I, for one, have no desire to father any.”

  Gideon blinked at the unexpected news. “You don’t want kids?”

  Magnus met his gaze, the candlelight making the brown appear warm and soft, two things Magnus was not. “I see no point.”

  “No point?” Gideon shook his head as though the rapid motion might knock those words out of his skull. “How could you not want kids? What if you find your mate and she—?”

  “I don’t want a mate either,” he answered curtly. “I am content.”

  “A life without family is not a life, my friend,” Kyros said sagely. “A warrior needs the soft touch of a woman after a long, hard battle, needs to know there is something waiting for him at home.”

  Magnus’ eyes narrowed at his friend. “Then where is your woman and your family?”

  Kyros flashed a toothy grin. “I hope to find one tonight.” He jerked a nod towards the floor below. “She is somewhere there.”

  Gideon followed the path of his watchful eye and studied the parade of beautiful women in their sheer gowns, their hairs scooped up in off their bare shoulders. To him, they all looked the same.

  “How will you know?” he wondered.

  Kyros inhaled deeply through his nose. His wide nostrils flared with the movement. “It is more of a sensation,” he explained simply. “Unlike selkies, our bond does not pass through physical contact.”

  “Dragons are like werewolves,” Magnus chimed. “They imprint through bite.”

  “And what of you?” Kyros was looking at Gideon. “Do you share your brother’s disregard for love and family?”

  “I do not disregard love and family,” Magnus interjected. “I merely don’t see the point of becoming attached. If I wish for the comfort of a woman, I will find one and move on.”

  Even Kyros grimaced at the bluntness of the statement.

  “Surely one day—”

  “Never,” Magnus cut in.

  Kyros shook his head slowly, like Magnus was completely out of his tree.

  “Sine amor, nihil est vita,” Gideon mumbled, wishing he had a drink. “Without love, life is pointless.”

  Magnus shot him a dry glower.

  “It is a shame,” Kyros continued, having missed, or ignored, the glance between the brothers. “Who will carry on your lineage?”

  “I am immortal,” Magnus reminded him. “I will live my own lineage.”

  “Yeah,” Gideon interjected, recognizing the tension mounting along his brother’s shoulders. “If all else fails, he’ll simply clone himself.”

  No one spoke while below, men and women twirled to the hypnotic strum of music. Laughter and chatter flowed through the grand chamber, interwoven with the clink of silverware and china. Gideon surveyed the faces painted by the warm glow of candlelight and wondered where Valkyrie was. They hadn’t seen the Harvester since they’d been separated and taken to different rooms to change. He wondered, not for the first time, if she had gotten herself into trouble.

  He turned to the man across from him. “Is someone bringing Valkyrie down?”

  Kyros met his gaze, but there was a fleeting second where his eyes shot past Gideon, but it was done so quickly, Gideon couldn’t help wondering if he’d imagined it.

  “The Harvester will be joining us in a moment.”

  Gideon was careful not to let his eyes narrow. He nodded and twisted around with the pretense of checking the other tables and caught a glimpse of what had originally captured Kyros’s attention.

  The queen.

  “You know what, I’m going to stretch my legs.”

  Kyros opened his mouth, but Gideon was already on his feet. He moved quickly and with purpose down the platform towards the throng of people below. His strides were long and deft, easily dodging the swaying forms, the clustered groups, and the intertwined bodies. The musky scent of sex and sweat was a muggy, tangible force that pooled between his shoulder blades and glistened over his skin. The uncomfortable sensation made him want to shower.

  He stalked to the doors, prepared to hunt Valkyrie down and make sure she hadn’t gotten herself thrown into the dungeon. Gideon had no love for the other three houses. He found them all rude and stewing in their own personal agenda. But if there was one thing he knew for a fact, it was that, when not in your own territory, respect the house, its leader, and their laws. It was something Valkyrie had no interest in doing, nor did Gideon expect her to. If there was one thing he respected most about her, it was her mind set. Once she decided to hate someone, she was unwavering in her hatred, absolute in her decisions, and once she set her mind on destroying that person, it was as good as done. It was also the thing he disliked about her. There was no room for forgiveness. She didn’t realize it was this trait above all else that would be her end and that scared the shit out of him.

  He was at the door when a young group of warriors stumbled into his path. They were laughing, slapping each other enthusiastically on the backs and shoulders and having the time of their lives. It was clear they’d had a bit too much to drink and were having their own party.

  Gideon frowned, but waited patiently for them to move.

  The middle one spotted him. He elbowed the other two and gestured with the sharp nod of his head in Gideon’s direction. The other two stopped their unsteady weaving to look. Interest sparked in their dark eyes.

  “You’re Magnus’s brother,” the one in the middle observed.

  “I also go by Gideon,” he replied cool
ly. “Excuse me.”

  They shifted as one and blocked his path. Their movement was quick, much too quick for a trio of intoxicated idiots.

  “We don’t get very many blonds,” Middle explained. “You stand out.”

  “Well, I consider my mission complete then.”

  He tried dodging them again, only to find them in his path once more.

  “Why hasn’t he ever brought you here before?” Left asked.

  Realizing they weren’t going to let him leave, Gideon straightened. He glanced from face to face carefully, taking in their unmarred bodies, smooth, taut skin, and the glimmer in their eyes. They were absent of the hulking shadow that clung to those who had fought in the war.

  Children.

  Gideon suddenly felt so old.

  “Maybe it’s because I eat with my feet,” Gideon mused. “I hear that’s a real turn off when you have company.”

  Middle smirked. “You’re funnier than Magnus.”

  “I also think I’m more handsome, but...”

  The trio chuckled.

  “Hey, you should have a drink.”

  Right waved over a waiter armed with a silver platter containing three shot glasses the disturbing color of flamingo piss. They must have also been toxic, because they glowed faintly.

  Gideon rolled a quick glance over the room and noted nearly every woman in the room held a glass. The men were all empty handed.

  “I’m good.” He turned back to the three. “I need to find a friend of mine—”

  “The Harvester?” Middle asked. “We saw her when we were coming down.”

  “Yeah, she was right behind us,” Left added. “She should be here any minute.”