by Tara West
“I’m your family, too,” she said in a barely audible whisper. Perhaps family had never meant much to him. He’d convinced Alexi to run away from home at fifteen. He hadn’t even come with Alexi’s brothers when they delivered his shield to her parents.
He gave her an austere look. “Do you think this is easy for me?”
“You don’t even shed a tear.” She looked away, unable to stomach the sight of him any longer. He’d broken his oath to Titus. He was no more honorable than the king.
When he cleared his throat, she looked back at him, hoping, praying, that he’d changed his mind.
His expression had fallen, revealing the void in his eyes, a window to his soul. Perhaps he’d been a loving, compassionate uncle once before, but now he cared nothing save for appeasing his enemies.
“I cried all my tears when I lost Alexi.” He sounded distant as he stared into the fire. “My men are waiting for you out back.” He turned his back on her. “They will take you to where the king’s men are waiting.”
Kyria slowly stood on shaky legs while holding back her tears. There would likely be a mutiny when her defenders discovered her uncle’s duplicity, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Though her uncle’s indifference stung, it was nothing compared to the grief she felt in losing her defenders. Kyria felt as if the world had opened up beneath her feet and had swallowed her whole. She was leaving the men she loved more than anything in the world. Even worse, she hadn’t told Titus she loved him. The thought of him not knowing how much he meant to her was more than she could bear.
Chapter Twenty-One
THERON IGNORED THE ache in his chest while he trudged through the snow and ice to the wall. Not trusting the general to keep Periculi safe, Titus had sent him there to check on Kyria’s escort. They’d try to retrieve her soon. Too bad, because she wasn’t leaving.
He hated the look on Kyria’s face when he’d left her. Though he’d known he and his brothers couldn’t lock themselves away with her forever, that didn’t make it any easier. He couldn’t shake a foreboding that leaving her with General Faustus was a bad idea, even though he was her uncle. He told himself he was overreacting. That Kyria was brave and strong and could take care of herself, despite her cursed feet.
He climbed the stone steps to the top of the battlement, the long wall that led from Mt. Olion to the cliffs, the barrier between Periculi and the rest of Delfi. It had always served to keep the dragons from advancing beyond their outpost, but soon it would serve another purpose, that of keeping the king’s army out when they tried to retrieve Kyria.
When he reached the top, he walked along the battlement, scanning the ground below for her escorts. They were not there, though there were a few tent poles and a smoldering fire at the edge of the distant timberline. Alarm bells went off in his head. Why had they left?
He hailed one of the watch captains. “How do you fare, Cyrus?”
The short, stocky man slapped his barrel chest. “All is well.”
“Good,” he trailed off, distracted by the way Cyrus seemed to be at ease. “Where has the queen’s escort gone?”
Cyrus rubbed his chin. “You didn’t know?”
Obviously. “Why would they leave?” he snapped, panic making his heartrate quicken.
Cyrus gaped at him.
“Was the queen with them?” he asked urgently. “Tell me!” he snapped when Cyrus continued to give him that dumb, blank stare.
“They carried a woman.” He averted his gaze before taking a wide step back. “I didn’t see who it was.”
Lava raced through his veins as he turned toward the sky and let out a primal roar. “I’ll kill that lying bastard!”
TITUS DIDN’T WAIT TO be invited. With one swift kick, he snapped the lock and rushed inside the general’s quarters, brandishing his sword with his brothers flanking him.
“Where is she?” he demanded, finding the general in bed with his servant. The heartless bastard. How could he screw after feeding his niece to the wolves?
The general slid out of her and wrapped a fur around his waist while the woman cowered. “She’s returning to her husband, where she belongs.” Stumbling to his feet, he reached for his sword.
Titus was upon him before he could grab it, the tip of his blade pressed against the general’s neck. “Damn you, you lying bastard. I should end your pitiful life!”
“She belongs with us, and you know it,” Quin said. “How could you betray her?”
The general backed up. “I had no choice.”
Keeping his sword aimed at the general’s throat, Titus advanced. “You always have a choice.” He nodded to Theron, who scooped up the general’s sword. “Tie them up and gag them,” he said to Quin.
“With pleasure.”
The general shook like a volcano about to explode. “You boys are not going after her.”
Blood pumped like raging rivers through Titus’s veins. “Like hell, we’re not.”
“Twenty men guard her.” The general shook his head, snickering. “It’s a suicide mission.”
Was this all a joke to the fucking bastard? “We’re going.”
The general stepped back, eyeing Quin who circled him like a predatory wolf.
“You come back alive, and you’ll be thrown in the brig.” His ruddy cheeks reddened. “Then I’ll send my niece back to her husband.”
A rage he’d never known made his head feel ready to explode. “You son of a whore!” He hit Anton with the pommel of his sword. The general fell back, landing on the ground with a thud, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
The servant screamed, trying to get around Quin.
Quin gave Titus a helpless look as she fainted.
Theron draped a fur across her nude body and nodded at the back door when footsteps raced toward them.
They slipped out the back and ran to a secret passage out of Periculi and the one Kyria’s escort must have taken. In the tunnel Titus pulled a torch off the wall.
“What about the life water?” Quin asked.
“We’ve no time,” Titus whispered back. He cared nothing for his own life. He only hoped they reached Kyria in time.
KYRIA HATED THAT ONE of the guards had to carry her, but after falling flat on her bottom twice, she had to ask for assistance. She fumed while he kept readjusting her, his hands getting way too familiar with her butt. Had her husband been honorable, she could have reported the creep, but since he fed off the misery of others, he’d probably laugh in her face if she told him.
She snarled when he shifted her again. “If your hand touches me inappropriately one more time, I’ll cut off your pecker while you sleep.”
He blanched and stopped fidgeting. Her escort accompanied them down the hill until she could no longer see Periculi’s massive stone wall. She wanted to break down in a heap of sobs but not here. Not now. She would not let the king’s men think her weak.
Her carriage was waiting beside soldiers reining in their impatient horses. The sun was already setting; why were they traveling at night?
Marcello rushed over and helped her out of the handsy soldier’s arms. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he helped her stand.
She didn’t know how he knew that she’d need assistance, but she appreciated his steady hand holding her elbow. “The king sent for me.”
“But your uncle wasn’t supposed to release you.” He said, eyes darting to the soldiers preparing for departure. “You told him everything, right?”
“Yes.”
The handsy soldier came up to her. “My Queen.” He bowed low. “May I help you into your carriage?”
She eyed him coolly. “You may not. Now leave, before I make good on my promise.”
Marcello led her to the carriage. “Has he gone crazy?”
She faked a smile as they passed soldiers with watchful eyes. “He can’t go to war with the king during dragon-mating season,” she said, shielding her mouth with a gloved hand.
“Fu
cking fool,” he spat, his voice rising and then dropping when soldiers eyed him. “So he’ll throw his niece to the dragons and wind up in a war anyway.”
When they stopped, she ignored her servant’s gasp from inside the carriage. “What do you mean?”
“You have to go back.” He leaned so close, their breath mingled, icy puffs of air swirling together. He tossed a glance over his shoulder before continuing. “The king is sending assassins.”
Her stomach soured and her heart slowed to a dull thud. “What?”
She gasped when Ergor clasped Marcello on the shoulder and looked at her with that same predatory gleam in his eyes. How could she forget the thug who’d gone with Brutus to threaten she and Jade at the temple?
“Fall in line, soldier,” the one-eared creep said with a sandpaper-rough voice.
She couldn’t believe her bad fortune, and she had no life water to poison him.
“General Ergor.” Marcello gave a curt bow.
“My Queen,” Ergor sneered. “Please get in your carriage, so we can be off.”
She tried to push past him. “I’ve decided to stay with my uncle.”
He gripped her arm so hard, she knew he’d leave a bruise. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed hot in her ear. “Get in the carriage before I force you in.”
Icy tendrils of fear coiled around her spine. “You wouldn’t dare. As your Queen I command you to let me return to my uncle.”
“Bring me her servant,” he said to Marcello, “so I can show her what I do to women who refuse to listen.” A malicious gleam flashed in his eyes when he pulled out a long, thick blade.
Jerking free of him, she almost fell backward. “You’re a demon.”
His lips pulled back in a feral grin. “And don’t you forget it.”
Marcello inserted himself between Ergor and Kyria. “General Ergor, if I might have a word.”
Ergor slammed him against the carriage. “No, you may not. Fall in line with the rest of the guards.”
Marcello stuck his hand in the pocket of his cloak. “General Ergor!” He released a yellow dust, blowing it all over Ergor. Eyes rolling back, he slumped to the ground in a motionless heap.
Kyria recognized that dust. Her brother and his friends had been covered in it when she’d saved them from the giant birdcage. Was it some kind of Fae sleeping powder?
Before she could ask, she heard the distinct sound of dozens of steel swords sliding free of their scabbards, all pointing at Marcello.
“Listen to me, men.” Marcello held up both hands. “The general and the king have planned to assassinate the queen and her guards. Mercenaries dressed as Dragon Defenders will be upon us any moment to kill us all.”
The handsy soldier eyed Marcello suspiciously from his horse. “Why would the king kill his queen?”
“Because he’s a sick, evil person,” Kyria answered.
“And he needs an excuse to go to war with the defenders,” Marcello added.
Forcing a confidence she didn’t feel, she said, “Marcello is telling the truth. Lower your weapons.”
Handsy soldier was about to speak when he lurched forward, an arrow sticking out of his back.
“They’re here!” Marcello yelled, thrusting his sword in the air. “Protect the queen!”
Heaving Ergor’s sword and shield into her arms, she pressed back against the carriage for support. “I can protect myself.” At least she hoped she could. She didn’t need to chase after her assassins. She was certain they’d come to her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
KYRIA WAS SURPRISED when burly soldiers wearing defender uniforms descended on them. They couldn’t have been defenders—not just because she didn’t recognize any of them, but because her uncle’s army wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. They were outnumbered at least two to one, and her guards were young soldiers fresh from training, no doubt because they were easy kills.
“These aren’t defenders! They are assassins sent to murder us all!” Marcello hollered, slashing and thrashing the thugs who’d broken through the guards, their swords swinging as they went straight for Kyria. “Fight for your life!” he cried. “Fight for your queen!”
Her guards were no match for the mercenaries, who struck them down with axes and swords. More disturbing than their brute force was their need to behead each soldier they executed. Murdering them wasn’t enough for these vile thugs. They had to desecrate them, too.
Instead of helping her guards, Kyria leaned against the carriage, cursing her worthless feet and the mage who’d hexed her. Trying to ignore her maid’s terrified screams, she focused on helping Marcello. Despite her infirmity, she cut down two men who’d made the mistake of thinking she was a helpless female and turned their backs on her.
She tried to stop Nadia when she flung open the door and raced into the forest, screaming and sobbing. The poor girl was decapitated by a mercenary.
“I got her! I got the queen!” he hollered, waving around the girl’s head like a prize.
“You fool!” Another thug slapped the head out of his hands and pointed to Kyria. “She’s over there.”
Bile rose in the back of her throat when they set their sights on her and charged. They were no match for Marcello, who easily gutted them before moving on to the next assassin.
Marcello fought bravely, with a speed and strength she’d only seen in Alexi, cutting down men before they could lift their swords. Despite his skill, they were still outnumbered. All of her guards were killed, leaving Marcello to fight the horde alone.
She was losing hope when she heard Titus’s familiar roar and saw him hacking through them with amazing speed. Theron and Quin flanked him, driving spears and swords through their enemies as if they were slaying dragons.
A horn sounded in the distance, and the thunder of hooves drew near.
Several dozen defenders on horseback raced into the clearing, Anton in the lead, eyes widening when he saw the carnage. Shouting orders, he pointed his sword at the mercenaries, and his soldiers jumped from their horses and dispatched them.
Their numbers reduced, and many badly wounded, they scattered, running into the woods while defenders chased after them.
Dropping her sword and shield, she wiped sweat off her brow and heaved a sigh of relief. Climbing over dead bodies, Quin was the first to reach her. They clutched each other. Theron and Titus joined them, alternating between kissing and hugging her. They only had a few cuts on their arms, nothing life-threatening. A cold wind blew through her hair, causing a shiver to steal up her spine and her teeth to chatter.
Titus made her sit on the footman’s bench at the back of the carriage. “Are you okay, sprite?”
“I am now.” She was so thankful to them for shielding her from the butchered bodies and severed heads. She was nearly overwhelmed when she thought of all the lives that had been lost. If she’d stayed within Periculi’s walls, her guards would not be dead now. “I’m sorry for leaving. My uncle made me do it.”
“We know,” Theron said. “We don’t blame you, my love.”
She saw Marcello, her only surviving guard, checking the battlefield for signs of life and running his sword through the chests of injured assassins. She fought the urge to cover her ears. Their dying grunts and groans would haunt her for eternity. A few defenders had fallen, too, and the sight of their prone bodies while friends bent over them filled her with dread. This could’ve been avoided if her uncle had kept his word.
“What happened here?” Anton asked from his horse.
“What does it look like, General?” Theron sneered. “The king hired thugs to assassinate his queen, and he tried to frame us for it.”
Kyria reached for Theron’s hand and held it tightly in an effort to soothe him. “We would’ve perished if my defenders hadn’t come to our aid.”
Anton had the audacity to look contrite. “Forgive me, niece, for underestimating the king’s ruthlessness.”
A defender cried over his fallen brother.
�
��You made a poor choice, Uncle,” she spat, “one that cost unnecessary lives.”
He reddened. “I made the best choice at the time. No good comes from dealing with your mad husband.”
She flinched. As if it was her fault the king was cruel?
“He threatened to kill the queen’s family and friends if she couldn’t convince you to swear an oath to him,” Marcello said, wiping his sword clean. “Why wouldn’t you think him capable of killing his bride as well?”
Turning in his saddle, Anton gazed at her guard with contempt. “I wasn’t speaking to you, soldier.”
Marcello laughed. “I don’t need your permission to speak.”
He turned back to her. “Who is this fool?”
Straightening her shoulders, she stood on legs that felt like wet noodles. “He’s my guard, Marcello,” she said haughtily, “and I would’ve been slaughtered if he hadn’t defended me.”
Anton backed up his horse, giving Marcello a pointed look. “Were you aware your king was planning this attack?”
Marcello grinned. “I was aware, and he is not my king.”
Swinging off his horse, Anton stomped up to him. “Then whom do you serve?”
“Queen Milas.”
When Theron squeezed her hand tight, and Titus swore softly, she realized they were jealous. They had nothing to worry about. She was committed to them, and she made a note to prove it to them later.
“You serve others,” Anton said suspiciously.
“That’s not what’s important here. Had you kept your niece behind Periculi’s walls, this slaughter wouldn’t have happened.”
His features hardened. “And risk war with the king’s army?”
Marcello hovered over a wounded mercenary who gazed up at him with fear. “The war is already here, General, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Her stomach flipped when he dispatched the assassin. Marcello killed so easily.
Anton unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Marcello. “Arrest him,” he said to the soldiers behind him, “along with Commander Titus and his brothers.” Not a single defender moved. “Do not disobey me, or you all go to the brig!”
