by Alisa Woods
“That is correct.” Markos’s cool demeanor had returned. Good.
“Zephan can’t kill me outright—not as long as the treaty holds—but he has something planned.” Leksander knew that was the truth. “And while he can’t kill me, he can kill the hell out of your angelings. Including Erelah, who has to be his target.”
Markos frowned and nodded.
“Protecting Erelah is paramount.” Leksander gestured vaguely around the throne room to the invisible wards still protecting them—normal wards tied to his brothers, or really anyone with sworn allegiance to the House of Smoke. Any of the three of them in the throne room could pull them down. “Once we bring down the wards, once Zephan is inside, that’s when he has a chance to do something. To make his move. He may fight his way out of this throne room, trying to go after Erelah. He may do something completely different. Whatever it is, it’s not in our interest to let that happen. Maybe you can’t kill him without provocation… but you can definitely bind him so he can’t carry through on whatever mischief he has planned.”
Markos’s eyebrows lifted. “I could bind him in a way that would prevent him from using his magic. He would be unharmed but restrained.”
“Yes!” Leksander said. “That is what I’m talking about.” With Zephan restrained, Leksander would have no qualms about plunging an angel blade into the asshole’s heart. Markos could stand back and watch, but he had better not get in the way.
It didn’t sound like he would, though. And if he did… Leksander would fight that battle when it came.
“I like this idea.” Leonidas caught his gaze, and an understanding passed between them. His brother knew exactly what Leksander had planned. A small nod from Lucian said he got the message, too.
Good. Everyone was on board with this. And fuck Zephan. He should never have messed with the House of Smoke and their mates in the first place. “All right, then. Here’s how this will work. We can pull down the wards around the keep to let Zephan in. I’m not worried about him breaking the other three levels of wards—we already know fae magic isn’t strong enough for that.” Lucian gave him a nod—they had proved that specifically for Zephan when the two of them trapped the fae in Lucian’s tomb, with all three inside. Zephan had no choice but to vow not to kidnap or otherwise harm Lucian’s mate—and a fae’s promise is magically binding. “So, Zephan we can manage, but when we bring down the outer wards to let him in, we give a small moment of time for the shadowkind to get in too.” He turned to face Markos. “I want you at my side, protecting me during that moment. My death means the death wards protecting Erelah come down. I can’t have that happen.”
Markos tipped his head in agreement.
Leksander turned to his brothers. “Okay, I’m going to conjure a personal shield around Markos and me.” Not as strong as a ward but enough to give them momentary protection if Elyon suddenly materialized in the throne room. “You bring down the outer wards, get Zephan and Tajael in, then raise them again. I’ll drop my shield as soon as that’s done.”
Lucian and Leonidas nodded their agreement.
Leksander stepped closer to Markos and raised a shimmering shield of magic around the two of them. “Okay, let’s let the bastard in.”
Leonidas briefly closed his eyes. Lucian tensed, and Leksander rested his hand on his blade, ready for literally anything. He couldn’t reach with his fae senses past his fae-magic-generated shield, but Zephan—who was an actual fae—must have been probing the wards, watching and waiting for them to come down. A half-second later, the air popped and light flashed, announcing his arrival in the throne room.
A split moment after that, Leonidas gave him a nod. “Wards up.”
Leksander exhaled a low breath and dropped the shield around Markos and him.
Tajael was by Zephan’s side, held up only by his grip on the angeling’s arm. The fae shoved him away in disgust, and Tajael fell to his knees, head hanging down.
Sweet mother of magic, he looked bad. Dark, inky blade slices—deep ones—all over his front and back. His wings were half white, half shadow, and it looked like the darkness was winning some kind of creeping war of attrition. Leksander reached out with his fae senses—the angeling even tasted of the shadow side, but at least he was alive.
Lucian went to help Tajael up. “You all right?”
Tajael nodded but said nothing. Just that motion seemed like it took all his strength. Lucian half carried him back to his throne, settling Tajael into the seat. He looked ready to pass out.
“Nice of you to return our angeling,” Leksander said bitterly. “After you beat the hell into him. Now, what exactly did you want to talk about?” He flicked a look to Markos. The angel was standing impassively by his side, doing nothing except stare in horror at Tajael. Specifically, he was not binding Zephan. What was he waiting for?
“Send out the angel,” Zephan said stiffly. “And raise the wards again. Then we’ll talk.”
What? Leksander swung back to peer at the fae prince. What game was he playing? “You’re not giving the orders around here, Zephan.” Leksander’s hand slid to grip the hilt of his blade. Should he just go for it? No. Zephan could easily blast him across the room. He had to be bound first. Leksander gave a pointed look to Markos, but he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were focused on Tajael. Leksander swung his gaze to the throne—Tajael was half passed out.
“Is he going to make it?” Leksander asked.
It was a general question, but Markos answered. “He’s very close to turning shadow.”
Oh, for the love of magic… Whether Tajael was in shadow or not was the least of their problems. “Look,” Leksander said to Markos, “we can heal Tajael later, all right?” He gestured to Zephan, but Markos still didn’t respond, just narrowed his gaze further at Tajael.
“Well, I certainly hope he’ll survive,” sniffed Zephan. “I went to a lot of trouble to bring him here.” The fae looked as awkward—and amazingly not arrogant—as Leksander had ever seen him.
“What the hell are you talking about, Zephan?” Leonidas asked. He was also giving What the fuck? What are you waiting for? side looks to Leksander.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me in if I arrived empty-handed,” Zephan said, the grumble and reluctance in his voice bringing Leksander’s attention back to him. “Especially after I, well, was a little overzealous in my treatment of the princes of the House of Smoke.”
“Overzealous?” Leksander spat. “Are you fucking kidding me?” What the hell was this? Zephan trying to con them with a last-minute, error-of-his-ways apology? No way. Leksander was killing this asshole dead for what he’d already done—just as soon as Markos got his shit together and actually bound the fae.
Zephan pulled a face like he’d swallowed the bullshit he was trying to feed to them. “I don’t expect a mere dragon to understand, but I had my reasons, prince of the House of Smoke. I was taking the most expedient route to preventing the treaty from renewing. I didn’t mean for…” He gestured in a flailing kind of way at Markos. “This whole thing to spiral out of control. I should have known better than to trust an angel.” He spat the word, and he threw a glare at Markos, but somehow, that wasn’t directed at the angel of light. Markos had finally drawn his gaze away from Tajael to give an amused look to Zephan.
“What the hell are you saying?” Leksander asked. And now he was seriously confused, because if Zephan wasn’t the one inciting the angel war… then who was?
“Elyon.” Zephan ground the name out. “He’s coming, and he’s not exactly pleased, so for the love of magic, will you please send this angel out to give us a fighting chance?” He squinted at Markos. “If you’re as clever as you think, dragon prince, you’d let the angels fight it out while we wait to see the victor.” He turned back to Leksander. “I am hoping your angel of light will win… as long as it’s far away from any space, mortal or immortal, that I happen to be occupying.”
Leksander leaned back and peered at Zephan. “You’re just trying to save
your own skin.”
“Well, of course.” Zephan looked at him like was crazy. “Did you expect something different?”
A strangled laugh erupted from Leksander. “No.”
“Then get on with it, if you would.” Zephan glared at him.
“Hang on.” Leonidas stepped away from the throne dais and down to the main floor with Leksander, Zephan, Markos… and a host of edgy angelings. There were a couple dozen angel blades pointed in the fae’s direction. “If you’ve managed to piss off Elyon, and he’s coming here to get you, why shouldn’t we just toss you outside, raise the wards, and let him finish you off?”
Zephan bared his teeth. “Because I’m helping you, you idiot. Do you think your wards will hold him off for long? I’m telling you, his angelings have been probing for weaknesses in your magic for a week. He’ll find a way inside. And then the battle will be fought within your walls, where your precious mates and beast children reside. Send the light angel out to stop him. In return, I can tame the demon outbreak in Seattle. I know you dragons worry about your precious human breeding stock. But Elyon is a bigger threat than you realize. He has angels of darkness ready to unleash. I thought I could…” He visibly swallowed, and Leksander had never seen this wild-eyed look on his face. “I thought I could contain him. I thought we could do business together. But this shadow realm… reason is not Elyon’s forte, and simply suspending the treaty is nowhere near enough to satisfy him.”
“So you’ve unleashed a monster on us all,” Leksander said, the full horror of this sinking in. “Good fucking job, Zephan.”
The fae prince cringed. He swung a look to Lucian, then Leonidas, then back to Leksander. “I know I’ve wronged each of you in turn. I don’t expect you to understand my noble pursuit of a better world without a treaty hampering the business of fae and dragon alike—” He held up a hand at the What the fuck? expression on Leksander’s face. “Regardless of that… when I turned you wyvern, Leksander Smoke, I truly believed I would finally prevail. But you dragons are obnoxiously stubborn in your mate selection and your love.” He drawled the word out like it was poison. “An angeling who can turn a wyvern back to dragon? Clearly, the fates were conspiring against me. I’m done fighting you this round—I’ll just wait you out, House of Smoke. The fae live a very long time, far longer than these beast spawn you’ve created. Their time will come, and so will mine. But there will be nothing for us to haggle about if we’re all destroyed. Elyon has more in mind… dangerous things, dragon prince. Now, don’t be a fool. Send these angelkind out to fight this battle and let them spend their energy on each other. Then you and I can live to spar another day.”
Leksander really didn’t want to believe a word of this. Zephan was giving up? He would try next time? The red haze of anger that welled up—the very idea that Zephan would go after the children, once they were grown—almost had him lunging forward and burying his blade in Zephan’s chest.
The problem was… it made too much sense.
Zephan couldn’t hope to win with Markos here—and he had to have known the angel was in the keep. And yet… Zephan came unarmed. With Tajael as a bargaining chip. And he just assumed they would protect him now that his alliance with an insane shadow angel had gone south.
Only Zephan could be that arrogant and not even blink.
Leksander looked to Markos. “What do you think?” He needed the angel on board no matter what.
“I think this fae lies in spite of his species being bound to Truth.” Then Markos startled him by flicking a finger and suddenly snarling Zephan in a whipping rope of pure white. If there was a reasonable amount of fear on Zephan’s face before, it was nothing like the wide-eyed look he had now.
“What in magic—” Zephan bared his teeth. “Dragon prince! Rein in your angel pet and his tricks.” He struggled against the glowing white bindings, and blue fae magic crackled along his skin, but Leksander could scent the fear on him. A light sheen of sweat broke out on Zephan’s face.
Leksander unsheathed his blade and stepped toward the fae, but Markos’s booming voice, just a notch below angelsong, made him hesitate. “What is your purpose here?” the angel demanded of Zephan with the voice of a god ringing through the throne room. “The Truth, fae prince. Or I’ll force it from your lips. And that will not be pleasant.”
Zephan quailed now—literally shaking within his restraints—and his face twisted like he was in pain or about to cry.
Leksander just stared at him, mesmerized by the torment.
“You angels and your vapid love of humans!” he spat. “Even Elyon is obsessed with them. If you had an ounce of sense, you’d be on my side! You’d see what a disease they are. A plague on the earth!”
Markos advanced on Zephan so quickly that Leksander had to step back. “What is your intent with them, fae?” The angel’s booming voice hurt Leksander’s ears.
He flicked a look to his brothers—everyone in the room was on high alert. Maybe Leksander wouldn’t have to kill Zephan after all. Markos might do it himself. You do not fuck around with threatening humanity—not with an angel.
“Humans.” Zephan gritted his teeth as if the word caused him pain. “They’re like a virus that keeps spreading and mutating and getting stronger. They’re a threat to every immortal in all the realms, and you fucking angels can’t see beyond your infatuation with them.” His face twisted more. Was Markos doing something to the fae? Or was admitting the unvarnished truth just causing Zephan that much pain? “You idiots. Do you even pay attention to what they’re doing? They’re mastering too much quantum science. They’re unpacking the secrets of the magical realms. But they’re still weak. Now is the time to stop them.”
“Stop them how?” Markos’s words shook the walls of the throne room. “Tell me, fae, if you value your life.”
Zephan struggled against his angelic bindings, and he roared out when he got nowhere with that. Then he glared at Markos with bared teeth, and actual tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “The demons,” he gasped as if the words were physically pulled from him. “It brings out the humans’ inherent evil—you angels are so blind! You think humans are angels-in-disguise, but you’re blind to their true nature. They are made of demon! You think they are especially loved by your God, but look at them! They are pathetic. They do not deserve to be the top species on the planet! Seattle is just a testing ground. And my work is a wonder to behold. They’re tearing themselves apart!” Zephan’s arrogance was rearing up again. “Eliminating the protection of the House of Smoke would have made all this much simpler. Breaking the treaty was the easy path! But by no means necessary. It doesn’t violate the treaty to let humanity destroy itself.” He lifted his chin defiantly to Markos. “Tapping humanity’s demon essence has always been the plan. They will destroy themselves. And you can thank me later, angel, for saving the immortal realms from them.”
The fury on Markos’s face thrummed power throughout the room. “You will stop this demon infection. Now.”
“No.” A mad glimmer shone in Zephan’s eyes. “I won’t. And neither will you. Not as long as Elyon and his forces outnumber you ten to one.” The glimmer crept into a twisted smirk. “You have no choice, light angel. You need me. Stop Elyon now… before he destroys everything. Then we can discuss how to keep the humans contained to the mortal realm. Because you know it, angel—you know, no matter how you pretend otherwise!—that the humans, if they gain access to magic, will be a curse on heaven as much as on earth!” Zephan’s chest heaved, and his lips trembled, but there was no doubt in Leksander’s mind. He was telling the truth.
Holy shit.
Leksander waited for Markos to respond. The angel’s face was livid with righteous anger, and Leksander honestly didn’t know if he would simply smite Zephan or if Markos would do as the fae said and take the fight outside the keep. Either would work.
Because despite Zephan’s insistence that they needed him to save humanity, Leksander would put a blade in the fae, if Markos didn’t do
it first.
The towering angel wavered… then stepped back from Zephan.
It was as if the fae had ceased to exist. Markos turned to Leksander. “You must drop the wards and allow us to face Elyon. We will defeat him, even if I have to call in Warrior Angels and their brethren. Then the demon scourge can be easily handled. And with your treaty renewed, humanity will once again be safe from the fae.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Leksander said, lifting his chin to Leonidas. He was all for Markos taking on Elyon. And nothing in Markos’s plan said Leksander couldn’t bury a blade in Zephan as soon as Markos was outside the keep.
The angel circled his hand, and his two dozen angelings tensed, all apparently ready to transport as soon as the wards were down. It only took a moment. Leonidas dropped the wards, Markos and his cohort disappeared, and the wards went back up. Zephan was trapped inside Markos’s bindings—even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. But now he had his wish… Markos outside, protecting his sorry ass from Elyon, the shadow angel whose insanity Zephan had unleased.
Just one more reason Zephan deserved to die.
Leksander lurched forward, yanking his angel blade from its sheath and raising his hand for the strike.
Zephan’s eyes flew wide. “No!” he cried out, struggling against his bonds.
Leksander aimed for the heart, but a blast of energy picked up Zephan, threw him into Leksander’s blade, then tossed them both across the room. Leksander roared in frustration and shoved Zephan’s body off him. His angel blade stuck out of the fae’s chest—it hadn’t run true through his heart, but it was buried deep, and the fae’s thick, blue-magic blood was surging out of his chest and his mouth. His face was stricken, and Leksander figured the wound had to be fatal. Or nearly so. But making sure was definitely called for. He reached to yank the blade out and strike again, but a force gripped Leksander and threw him against a wall, stunning him so badly that he saw double.
