by Elle Cross
Acanthe’s gaze locks onto mine now. My skin tingles until it tightens to the point of pain. She is summoning me.
"Duty calls." I tip my head toward Queen Sitara, who, now that the initial shock has passed, seems to be marking the exits and positions of every moving thing in the hall. She pays special attention to the unmoving shadows that don’t quite belong. Perhaps this queen is even more clever than I first thought.
"And what, pray tell, do you even do? Aside from watching and observing, that is?"
"What any queen expects of her subjects: anything she asks."
"Anything at all, hmm?" She lifts her brow at me, biting her lush lower lip in a way that makes my cock twitch. "Tell me, in a court like this, what would a typical queen ask of such a typical subject?"
I appreciate her mildly insulting banter and grin slowly, watching her eyes shift, her pupils dilating even as she maintains her flippant attitude.
She doesn’t fear me. Interesting.
Acanthe signals for me again. This time the order is so strong, my bones practically break as I fight to stay in place and finish my little tête-à-tête.
The more I fight my geas, the more the lust rises in Acanthe’s body. She likes it when I fight her. When I resist. She responds with a whip-coil thought that pierces my skull and brands itself in my mind's eye. My body tightens in response. I clench my teeth, fighting the dueling flickers of pain and pleasure that course through my body, looking for an outlet.
Whatever Sitara sees in my face, in my eyes, makes her swallow. I follow the small movement of her throat. Fixate on the fluttering pulse in her neck. My teeth ache to bite down on that soft flesh.
Instead of sweet blood, I make ugly words fill my mouth.
"What would she ask? For starters, her majesty the queen has kindly requested my tongue between her legs so she can ride my face until she comes all over my mouth. After, she wants my hands around her throat while I fuck her hard until she is dripping on my thighs. You know, the usual."
Sitara's breathing changes. Her hips shift, her ass curves out, her nipples tighten visibly beneath her dress. Just a little bit. Just enough for me to know that beneath it all, she likes what she hears, that she's not as young and prim and innocent as she might seem.
My straining cock wants her even more.
Without further delay, I spin around and seek the waiting Queen Acanthe to let the geas over my body take over. She better be ready for me.
The first evening of the festivities went off without a hitch. There was enough feasting and merriment to entertain myriad proclivities.
I was even able to steal away for parts of the night to eavesdrop among the courtiers. Most were there to serve their own interests, whether they thought to gain alliances, power, or even attempt to claim the Thorn Scepter for themselves.
I found that laughable, so of course I reported that to Acanthe. If she is serious about consuming others' power for herself, then it only makes sense that she should get the traitorous riffraff out of the way, rather than anyone who may be loyal to her.
In that regard, I was not surprised to see that the entire contingent from the visiting Court of Venom disappeared. No dead bodies, no blood, nothing went to waste. They were all just consumed by Acanthe somehow.
She at least had the decency not to kill anyone in public.
The only reason I even know she did it was because of the surge of power that I felt on my skin overnight. The truth ripples through our bond even when she tries to hide herself and her machinations from me.
Doesn't matter. The rest of the people in the Court of Thorns are strung tight. It wouldn’t take long for the visitors to figure out that something isn’t right. I can’t let that happen. Not yet. I need the cover of all these people to distract Acanthe.
When Acanthe gluts herself on the power of a visiting court, I steal into the royal storehouse, poring over stacks that speak of words of binding. The ancient grimoire won’t help me directly in finding answers that can be used to overthrow the queen. Anytime I try, the words still come out like gibberish.
So, I do it the old-fashioned way and go through the collected arcana one by one. I check anything and everything that could be old enough to mention someone like me, someone who has been bound with the power of a star stone longer than most courts have been in existence.
There is one obscure mention, referring to the types of beings that could possess a star stone, but there are only a few lines, nothing more.
And then, at dawn, I stumble upon a text in a language that hasn't been spoken in an age. All it says is, "And then the Queen of Stars grasped the stone that fell from heaven and threw it back from whence it came."
I can't tell what the point of this story is, or why it's important here in the text. That part doesn't matter.
What matters is that the Queen of Stars was able to grasp the stone.
And if I time things right, maybe the new Queen of Stars and I could help each other.
It’s too late for the others, anyway. Acanthe barricaded the outer limits of the court overnight. While the guests were distracted by darkling amusements, enchanted vines wove an impenetrable wall of thorns around the keep. Acanthe called the sluagh from their restless wandering, and they now guard the forests beyond.
The only safe way of escape is through the underground tunnels now. I just need to get there before Acanthe’s coronation when she will inherit the power and allegiance of the entire Court of Thorns. That includes all of the knowledge that Bramb has kept secret.
Even if a court managed to get through the thorn maze, they wouldn’t survive the sluagh. These royal fools never had a chance, though that doesn’t stop them from making hasty exit attempts.
Sitara knows, though. Her chief advisor has repeatedly told her to leave. Somehow, she is the only visitor aware enough to understand that not everything is as simple as "just go." I made sure of that when I checked on her.
"I see you're still here, Your Majesty. Sleeping comfortably?"
"I sleep quite well, thank you."
She should. She has enough willing bodies in her entourage to make her sleep quite soundly each and every night, though when I’ve observed her, only one guard ever makes an appearance in her bed.
"Glad to hear it. Say, any reason why you're not running off like the other courts are, or otherwise planning on leaving?"
"What, and miss out on all this stimulating political conversation? Never."
"That's good."
I hope she reads between the lines, understands that she’s safer staying put than getting gone. Especially now that she’s the only one who can ensure my escape from Acanthe’s geas.
Chapter Eleven
Raze
On the morning of the third day, there is another death. But this time, there is evidence that can’t be easily explained away.
A servant went to the rooms of the Court of Somewhere or Other, and not a single one of them was up and about. The servant discovered why when she went into their chambers and their bodies were laid out in a circle around a gaping black hole.
Considering that it was unusual to have a glowing black hole in the middle of an antechamber, the servant ran out of there screaming.
When Acanthe’s guards relayed the message, she sent me to investigate.
I kneel carefully just outside the ring of corpses around the hole. The brownie who discovered this shitstorm stands between two redcaps just inside the threshold of the chamber. She—or he, it's hard to tell—is visibly uncomfortable, twisting her fingers in a nervous gesture.
I nod my head to the brownie. "You there. What's your name?"
Her tremulous voice is barely a squeak as she answers. "I am called Ailis, Lord Raze. Ailis from the Plains."
A female. Good guess. "Well, Ailis from the Plains, can you repeat what it is you saw this morning?"
She swallows hard before she speaks. "There ain't nothing to tell, your lordship. As I says to the guards here, they was like that whe
n I peeked in. When my wits returned to me, I fled."
"You didn't touch anything?"
"No, your lordship." Her eyes grow large, and she presses her lips together.
As someone who’s had to fight a geas placed on me, I recognize the gesture. "You may speak freely here, Ailis."
"Will I be tasked with cleaning up the...room?"
She peers at the bodies, shuddering from the thought of it.
"No, of course not. That's what these redcaps are for."
The brownie lets out a breath of relief when I dismiss her. She blinks away, leaving me with two angry redcaps staring daggers at me.
I smile. "What? Don't you like murder and mayhem?"
"We like hunting, Dark Mage, not playing the part of a housemaid. These are already dead." He points to the pile of bodies with his gnarled talon as if I don't see the corpses. "Besides, all their blood is already gone from them."
The other grunts in emphasis.
"Well, cry me a river, gentlemen. The room still needs to be cleared before the other nobles grow suspicious that yet another court has left without fanfare."
"It will take all morning!"
I lash out with my power and coil it around his neck. I speak my next words through gritted teeth. "Then bring the rest of your hunting party friends up here to get it done faster."
His eyes bulge as I squeeze his throat one last time for emphasis before releasing him. They scramble away.
Alone, I walk the circle. Something about its energy seems familiar, as if I’ve seen the likes of this before. Carefully, I open the void magic inside of me and test the energies.
There is a heavy chill that seems to flow from it, like fog over a lake. I brush lightly against it. My mistake.
Instantly, whatever it is latches itself onto me, my magic. I feel something tugging at me, as if a hook has gotten itself embedded in my guts. I dig in my heels, pulling away from whatever has a metaphysical hold on me.
Images flitter in my mind. Faces twisting in terror and pain as they fall one by one. Acanthe's triumphant expression as she siphons their life force from them.
I fall to my knees, digging my fingers into the floor to keep myself from being emptied by this force.
Whispers rise, growing in pitch and sharpness until they become a scratching inside of my head. There's no need to fight. It's easier to give in. We're the same, you and I.
No. We. Are. Not.
See what we can do.
See.
My back bows from the pressure it places on me. I see a broken Acanthe, as she once was, weeping and alone. Broken blood vessels in one eye fill the normally white sclera with red.
I see her reach out to me, open herself to me at last.
Except she's not reaching out to me. She’s reaching out to this formless being. The one trying to invade my mind and force himself into me. The one who is inside of Acanthe now.
More memories flood my mind. They are Acanthe’s, from when the being of chaos took her: King Bramb, looming and dangerous, descends upon me. The hand that lashes out is not mine, but Acanthe's. Whatever she's done, it catches the Thorn King unaware.
See what we can do.
Join us, Dark Mage. The vessel is weak. With you, we will be infinitely stronger.
The power it offers me is like a blooming flower ready for picking. The fae nobles would bow to me. Anything I desired would be mine for the taking.
Yes, anything will be yours. Nothing can stop you.
Sitara's face flickers to view, no matter how much I try to suppress it.
Yes. Her. You can have her. Fill her. Use her.
No.
"Fuck you," I spit out. No matter how tempting the offer, in the end it's just a different prison. And I'm done being a slave.
I pull on the blanketing darkness that I used as a shield all those years in the oubliette, and throw it out over the hole.
The connection breaks and I gasp as if I've been held underwater.
I need to close that opening. My shield won't last long, but I don't want to call Acanthe for aid. For all I know, it will awaken her consciousness to the thing inside of her and throw her strength into the fight over my will.
What I need is someone from the court who has enough command over the castle to rearrange the floor. My voice cracks with exhaustion. "Ailis of the Plains."
The brownie from earlier appears beside me. She bobs her head and curtsies awkwardly. "Yes, lordship?"
"What will it take for you to regrow the floor over that hole?"
She shrugs. "It just takes a snap." She clicks her fingers and the floor spreads over the span of blackness.
I hurry to it and recreate the shield spells that I etched into the walls of my cell. As I scrawl the sigils with my own blood, the thrumming pressure subsides until it is gone completely.
I'm left panting in the middle of a ring of dead bodies. The brownie’s house magic is more potent than I realized. Ailis watches me with wary eyes.
"That was fast work. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing, your lordship. You sent me away from the redcaps earlier. I consider this balancing our scales."
"You don't like redcaps? But they're such fine company," I say with forced humor as I try to get to my feet.
Ailis shudders. "I don't enjoy their company, lordship, indeed I don't."
There's real fear there. "Then why don't you go on ahead, since a contingent of them have arrived."
She winks away before I finish speaking the last word.
The redcaps enter the chamber, led by the two who were here earlier. They pull up short when they see me standing in the middle of what had been a glowing black hole.
I raise my arms to my sides in mock exasperation. "What the hell took you so long? Do I have to do everything myself?"
It takes all morning and half of the queen's guard to rid the chambers of the corpses.
It gives me plenty of time to consider the power that finally showed itself to me. It’s an ancient being, one whose name I’m reluctant to speak, even in the privacy of my own mind. I don’t need to name it to know what it is and what it stands for.
Chaos.
Someone—something—like that doesn’t respect concepts like individual thought or free will. The only law it will heed is one of its own making...or perhaps laws made by others like it.
Through Acanthe, it will inherit the power of the Court of Thorns. That won’t be enough. It will eventually want more. Even now, Acanthe, serving as a vessel, is weakening too fast for it, which accounts for how she’s looked of late. Her raven-wing hair has gone utterly white, her complexion ashy and waxen. How long will it take for the chaos inside of Acanthe to burn through her from the inside out?
If I warn Acanthe, will she even care?
No, she won’t. When she was at her weakest, it gave her the power she needed to defeat the king. Acanthe may well be dead at this point, a mere skin suit for the chaos to animate until it achieves its aim, whatever its true end game is.
I don’t intend to hang around long enough to find out.
It’s only a matter of time before this darkness eats through every living thing in the court.
Over the span of the day, Acanthe keeps me at her side, finding any excuse to touch me. I stand beside her while she sits on her throne. Her hand is brazenly on my hip, caressing my body.
While in the middle of an entreaty from her high priest regarding the coronation ceremony, she strokes my leg, traveling higher and higher until she's cupping my groin.
The high priest stammers, but continues his speech as if he doesn't see Acanthe pawing at my unresponsive body.
Finally, Acanthe has enough of the priest’s droning speech. "Leave the room. Now."
With a flick of her wrist, the doors open, her audience leaves, and the doors slam shut again.
"Finally," she purrs. A coiled whip appears in her hand. "Clothes. Off."
I strip down naked.
She directs me to stand in front
of the dais. "Do you find me beautiful, Raze?" She asks innocently enough, though the way she toys at the end of the whip tells me her intentions are anything but.
I automatically say yes, because I know that's what she wants to hear.
"Would you do anything to possess me?"
I say I would.
"I want you to prove it." The whip uncoils and the end falls on the floor, the leather whispering against the stone like a slithering snake.
This is new. I search her face to see if there's a clue about what is to come. Only the glittering malice of the chaos inside her stares back.
She waves her scepter in front of her and hisses out a chant I can't hear.
Thorny vines grow around her throne until they form a thick carpet. Some of the thorns are a good two or three centimeters long.
"I wish for you to cross this patch of thorns and claim me."
I look down. This is going to hurt. If I don't move of my own free will, it will get worse for me. I lift my foot, about to step gingerly through the obstacle course, when she coughs politely.
"No, not like that, Lord Raze. On your knees."
I clench my teeth so I don't say something I may regret, which would be a first.
I don't comply. I can't. The seething anger rising inside me is hard enough to contain. If I move, I'll likely go off and find myself blown into the oblivion before I make it two steps.
The weight of her command and will drives me to my knees. Hard.
"There, that wasn't so difficult," she says brightly. "Now, crawl to me. Show me that you really want me. Make me believe it."
There isn't a way to avoid being wounded. I try my best not to place my weight down too heavily onto any one spot, but before long, I am trailing a swath of blood through the vines.
I've stopped feeling the tiny pricks and scratches. My knees have gone blessedly numb. Oddly enough, my hands are what hurt the most. Damned things are more sensitive than I’d assumed they'd be.
Finally, I ascend the dais and sit on my haunches at her feet.
