Tadeu growled and began to thrust his tongue faster, fucking me with it. I grabbed the back of his head and began to lift my hips up and down, grinding against mouth. I threw my head back, riding his face, his tongue, picturing what I looked like in their eyes, my body naked and bruised and flushed with orgasm, my wild hair tumbling down behind me, my heavy tits heaving as my body lifted, my pelvis rolling at the rhythm it needed, my insatiable pussy gripping his long, rough tongue as he plunged it into me until I came.
Afterwards, he cleaned me without a word. At last, he lumbered to his feet and gave me a mock bow. Gabor’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clenched, his eyes still glimmering with molten gold, but he holstered his gun and stepped back. I climbed off the table, and Shadow handed me my clothes. I dressed, feeling a little self-conscious as they all stood around watching me.
“How’s your magic?” Jetsun asked.
I felt for it, weighing the burden of it curled inside me, the power I felt when I reached for it, the quickness with which it responded. I was still new to magic, but I was getting more used to living with it, to sensing it in different ways.
“Good,” I said. “I think.”
“Then let’s go,” he said. “The coronation is about to begin.”
Eighteen
When we stepped out of the small room, I was surprised to see the huge crowd that had gathered. The hall was packed with people standing shoulder to shoulder, craning their necks to see the beautiful golden throne on the dais. A shudder went through me, and I reached out instinctually. Gabor’s hand wrapped protectively around mine, and on my other side, Shadow laced his fingers through mine. I could feel his magic, cool and soothing, settle over me. Together, we stood at the back of the crowd as processional music swelled to the high, stained glass ceilings.
My heart thudded loud in my ears, and I was grateful for the strength of my lovers and my love for them, which made me sure of myself and my decision. I needed it. The next moment, the doors swept open at the back of the hall, and Camila stood framed by light like some kind of angel descending from heaven to grace the country with her divine rulership.
But I knew looks were deceiving. Sure, she wore purple velvet and looked like heaven, but she’d plunged our people into hell when they dared to support me rather than her, burning them alive in a scene that still haunted my nightmares. I knew that she’d have no problem doing it again to anyone who dared challenge her until there was no one left in the country but sycophants, puppets, and her other cronies.
The music rose in a crescendo, then fell silent as Camila took her first step onto a long, golden carpet rolled out from the door to the steps of the dais. Her ladies-in-waiting rushed out to spread the train of her gown behind her, so it fell in folds that flattered her straight figure. Then they melted into the crowd on either side of her. She paused for a dramatic moment, then stepped forward once.
No one so much as breathed.
She took another agonizingly slow step, allowing everyone time to take in her splendor.
She lifted her foot to take another step, but hesitated. I leaned in to see what had caused her to falter. A single blue rose had fallen onto the carpet, the contrast in color to the gold carpet making it stand out as if it were spotlighted. I saw her expression tense, but she stared straight ahead and took another step.
“Long live the queen,” someone yelled from somewhere in the back of the crowd. The voice echoed through the stone room.
From somewhere else in the room, another voice called back, “Queen Itzel!”
I glanced at my companions. They all looked tense, their gazes watchful as they surveyed the crowd as if watching for assassins. Another blue rose fell into the aisle in front of Camila, then another. It wasn’t unusual for the crowd to throw flowers for the queen, though they usually waited until she’d passed. But I knew the blue roses meant more. They’d been my mother’s favorites, and now they were a symbol of dissention. A symbol to give me hope.
I didn’t know if Camila knew what it meant or if she felt the current of tension in the air, but her steps increased in speed.
And then something unusual happened. When my father had made an entrance, he’d always done it last, after everyone was seated. That was customary. If he had anyone with him, it was someone from the royal family. But now, four guards appeared in the doorway, dressed in their white ceremonial uniforms instead of the usual navy ones. They marched up the aisle in perfect formation until they were flanking her on either side. Camila appeared completely poised and collected, but I knew she must be scared out of her mind if she’d allow guards to share her procession to the throne itself, her coronation march, something she would consider the most important moment in her life.
A hum of barely suppressed voices whispered through the cavernous room.
When Camila reached the first rose lying across her path, she turned to the person standing beside aisle.
“Pick that up,” she snapped.
The voices got louder, drowning out the girl’s response. She bent to pick up the rose, though, and I saw that it was Abigail, the maid who had given me the rose on the way down the stairs, probably trying to tip me off to something brewing at the coronation. As she straightened, the room fell silent again. Instead of bowing to Camila, she met her eyes squarely.
Camila reached out and plucked the rose from her hand. “I suppose the Queen’s Rose is befitting,” she said, raising her chin. “I am to become queen on this day, after all.”
“You’re not my queen.” Abigail leaned forward and spit on Camila’s shoe.
The entire room seemed to suck in a breath at once, myself included. Camila stared at the offending spot on her slipper as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real. Then she lifted her head, flicked her gloved fingers toward the girl, and said, “Dispose of the traitor.”
Without a second’s hesitation, the guard closest to the girl turned, a gun in his white-gloved hand, and fired a shot into the center of her forehead. She hadn’t had time to move. No one even screamed. Her body crumpled, and the other guard on that side of Camila caught the body. He shoved it back into the crowd and turned away, as if she weren’t worth the energy it would take to drag her out of the room.
Camila dropped the rose on the floor behind her and kept walking.
No one else called out. No roses fell. No one spoke.
Camila climbed the marble steps of the dais and turned to face the room. “I am your queen,” she said. “Tonight, I will be crowned.”
The door off to the left of the throne opened, the one Gabor had come through when he killed the king. Now, my father’s closest advisors marched in, men who had risen to power by flattering his pride and enabling his dangerous ideas. The King’s Council, who would now be the Queen’s Council if Camila succeeded in taking the throne. Of course they supported her. She would keep them all in powerful positions where they could continue to milk the country to line their pockets at the expense of everyone else.
But I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I dropped the hands of my lovers, squared my shoulders, and stepped into the aisle Camila had just proceeded along with great ceremony. When all eyes turned to me, I realized just how invisible Shadow’s magic had made me. Now, everyone in the country seemed to be here, all of them staring at me, the fallen princess who had been in a live sex show in the arena the night before, who had caused a mass orgy and been betrothed to the king for a moment before he died under mysterious circumstances.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I should be walking down this carpet in my black heeled boots and jeans, as common as everyone always said I was. I wasn’t sure I deserved to sit on that throne.
But I knew I could earn that respect. I could grow to deserve it. I would spend every day of my reign trying. Camila would never try at all. She thought she already deserved it.
I knew better.
Someone who loved this country deserved it, someone who wanted what was best for everyone on ocel
ot soil, from the commonest human to the most extraordinary priestess. Someone who would try, and keep trying, and never give up.
I took a step, my pulse racing so fast I thought I’d faint. Camila was staring at me with rage that made her eyes narrow into golden slits. I could hear my father’s top advisor speaking at the front of the room, but my heartbeat pounded so loud in my ears I couldn’t make out his words. Camila snapped at him to hurry. She wanted the crown on her head before I reached her, before anything could take away the moment she’d wanted all her life.
But that was just it.
She had wanted to be queen, to wear the crown. She didn’t want anything more, anything to change, anything to help the people of the country she ruled. She just wanted to rule them.
A murmur went through the crowd as those nearest the aisle whispered to the ones behind them, who passed the message on. I was going in for the challenge.
A girl smiled and handed me a blue rose. I took it and smiled back. My knees felt like butterfly wings, fragile and fluttery. I took another step. Someone a few steps ahead held out another rose, giving me an encouraging smile and gesturing for me to come get it, so I moved along the aisle and took it. A woman with a shawl over her head held out another one, so I stepped forward. When I reached for it, I saw Magda’s mischievous smile peeking out.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the rose.
“Go get her,” she whispered, giving my hand a quick squeeze as she pressed the stem into it. Her smile, her words, just knowing she was here gave me strength. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw my own escort of four, my three mates and my guard, right behind me. Shadow nodded, his green eyes glowing with intensity. Jetsun smiled. Tadeu raised his brows as if to ask if I was going to chicken out now. Gabor stayed on alert, ready to protect me if one of Camila’s loyalists came at me.
They gave me strength, too.
“Thank you,” I said again, gave Magda a determined smile, and went on. The path was clear. The roses led me on, drawing me forward each step of the way, as if my mother were here coaxing me forward, telling me to take my place on the throne. But would she want me to do it at the expense of Camila?
She would, I realized. She would want me to rule justly and kindly, even if it meant taking the throne from her other daughter. She believed in right and wrong every bit as much as Gabor did.
I followed the rose offerings to the foot of the steps. I didn’t think too much about what I’d say when I reached Camila until I was there, my arms laden with our mother’s favorite roses.
“What are you doing here?” Camila hissed, her fury barely contained.
“I’m here for the amulets,” I said. “They were given to me, and I need to return them. I already know my mates.”
“That’s not how it works, Princess Itzel,” said one of my father’s stuffy advisors. He looked at me like a whore who’d been tasted by a dozen guards in front of the whole country’s population of ocelots.
“You’re supposed to be in the dungeon,” Camila snarled at me, her face twisting into something as ugly as she was on the inside. Behind her, I saw that my other three mates had come up the steps to join her beside the throne. Their eyes were full of confusion, and I felt for them, for the way they must be torn in two right now, unable to stop loving this monster no matter what she did to them. I knew a thing or two about that. I had my own monster to love.
“Little change of plans,” I said. “I’ll be on the throne instead.”
“You’ll never rule this country,” Camila hissed. “No matter what you do, you’ll never rule! You’re not an ocelot. You can’t even touch the ocelot amulet. You’ll die if you do.”
I didn’t know if that was true. I suspected my ocelot blood would save me, but it wasn’t something I wanted to risk finding out.
“Then put the amulets together and see what they show,” I said.
Camila’s face went still for a moment, her eyes widening as she realized what was about to happen. She must already know. The men all bore my mark.
But then, just because I had True Mates didn’t mean I was destined to be queen. My mother’s curse had told us that. Camila had denied that it was real, but maybe she knew.
“They’re my mates now,” she said.
“See what the amulets say,” I answered.
The Council looked a bit uncertain now, glancing from me to Camila. The amulet ceremony was part of the coronation. She couldn’t put it off forever. She had to put them together before they placed the crown on her head.
“Your Grace,” an older man said hesitantly. “Perhaps we should consult the amulets.”
“She—she put a spell on them!” Camila cried, pointing a shaking finger at me. “You saw her magic last night. She’s capable of anything. She’ll make the amulets show whatever she wants you to see.”
“That’s not possible,” another councilman said.
“It’s not a bad idea,” echoed another, giving Camila a doubtful glance from the corner of his eye.
“If I put them together, they’ll show my mate,” Camila said. “So yes, let’s do it.”
“They’ll show the queen’s mate,” an advisor said.
“And I’m the queen,” Camila said, stamping her foot. “These are my mates.”
“We’re not your mates,” Lord Balam said, his dark, troubled eyes finding mine. “We love you because you made us. But we’re Itzel’s mates.”
“It’s not fair,” Camila said, her voice rising. “She gets everything! All our lives, she was the one everyone liked. She was the one who flirted with diplomats at dinner, the one they wanted to dance with. She was the one who flirted and charmed visitors. I’m the princess! I’m the heir! The people should love me!”
“It might help if you didn’t order your guards to execute them,” I pointed out.
“It’s true,” Kwame said. “That does not lead to a trusting population.”
“What do you know about trust?” Camila snapped. “You were killed by your own cousin.”
“That is how I know so much about it,” Prince Kwame replied, his deep, heavily accented voice slow and clear in the silence of the room.
I stared at Kwame, remembering the way he’d looked when he told me he’d been killed. In all the hours we’d spent talking, he hadn’t told me that part. He’d told Camila, though. Pain stabbed through me, and for a moment, I lost focus. But Sir Kenosi arched a brow at me, giving me a knowing smile that moved to Shadow and then Jetsun. He knew they were back with me, and he knew how. He looked like he might jump off the dais and fuck me right here and now.
I jerked my attention back to Camila. I had to stay sharp. I was grateful Sir Kenosi knew how to direct my attention back to the matter at hand.
Camila glared at me with such hatred it would have stopped my heart a year ago. But now, I knew that her love for me had never been real. I didn’t know if she was capable of love. Manipulation was her substitute.
“Your Majesty,” said my father’s top advisor. “Let’s put the amulets together and see what they can tell us.”
“She’s common!” Camila raged. “She doesn’t deserve to rule this country. She doesn’t deserve all these mates, all these men who love her, when I don’t get even one!”
“Be that as it may,” the advisor said, looking slightly annoyed, as if dealing with the tantrum of a child. He’d dealt with my father, though, so it would take a lot more than a princess having a fit to deter him.
“You might have a mate,” Prince Kwame reasoned, looking hopeful. If she found her True Mate, she might not care about having my mates to worship her, too.
The advisor pulled out a flat stone circle the size of a saucer and extended it on his palms. Symbols were etched around it, glowing faintly with magic. It looked like a tiny stone plate with a lip around the edge that was engraved with runes or some ancient language I couldn’t decipher.
“You may place the amulets,” he said.
“The amulets were given to me,” I s
aid. “I’d like to put them together.”
“They’re mine,” Camila shrieked, pulling a velvet bag from a fold in her skirt and clutching it to her chest. “You can’t have them!”
“Maybe we should each place our own,” Lord Balam said.
“Then I’ll get to put the ocelot amulet in,” Camila said. “The last piece. You can’t touch it, or you’ll die.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“You’ll see, Itzel,” she fumed. “You’ll see how it feels to be the sister no one loves.”
“Trust me, I’m well acquainted with the feeling.”
“Are you all agreeable to placing your own amulets into the puzzle?” the advisor asked, clearly ready to get this over with.
The men nodded, but Camila still held the bag. “You can’t give them to Itzel,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Lord Balam.
“It doesn’t matter who places them,” the advisor said again.
“It matters,” she said. “The heir always places them!”
“Then do it,” I said, getting impatient myself.
Camila licked her lips, a nervous habit she’d had in childhood. It made my heart hurt for her a little. Maybe she was just like our father, but was it really her fault? He’d raised her to follow in his footsteps, to be like him. She’d wanted his love, and so, she’d become like him. And in the end, he’d betrayed her, passing her up for his own ambition.
But when I began to doubt her evil, all I had to do was look at my miserable mates up there beside her, their hearts enslaved by her spell. Understanding how she became the monster she was didn’t make her less of a monster.
She stepped forward, her thin fingers shaking as she reached into the bag. She drew out one of the biggest amulets, the first one I’d gotten, the jaguar amulet. She nearly fumbled it as she laid it into the center of the stone. A swirl of golden magic began to rise from the center of the plate.
Gasps went up, including the advisors and councilmen who stood around us. I glanced at them, wondering what was wrong.
Fallen Princess Page 25
