Page 20 of A Monarch's Fall

“It’s okay, she’ll forgive you,” Harris reassured me, his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side as I sat back down.

“Are the children behaving now?” Katrina asked.

“Yeah,” Dylan sighed.

Idonea didn’t say anything, but she still watched me.

She knew that I knew.

Percy and Idonea were family.

Chapter six

The Aftermath.

Adamantia Ardens

“Ithink we’re going to see another sunrise yet,” General Efstratios commented as he stood with his boot on the chest of a rebel, True North, I suspected.

Of course, my idiot niece would marry with such carrion. Those of Ardens’ blood were opportunistic, ruthless, and power-hungry, all the necessary requirements of an Empress - excellent assets, assuming those who wield such qualities have more wisdom than a rooster. Unfortunately for Ardens, there were far too many idiots in the mix.

The True North rebel faction had been the cause of minor skirmishes across formerly Vouna territory and bleeding into Ardens at large. They were a nuisance, nothing more, at least that was what I and the councillors of Ardens had believed. Now, they were showing their strength, their gall, and I would see to it that every True North rebel, every collaborator and sympathiser,anyone who so much as had the misfortune of doing business knowingly or unknowingly with these swine would face the same ending - an early death.

Efstratios knelt, took a grip of the handle of his dagger, and pulled the blade from the eye socket of the dead rebel.

“Dregs of the polis,” he continued and spat blood.

The battle had turned from explosions and gunfire to hand-to-hand combat. The flow of combatants had slowed to but a trickle. Efstratios had fired his last bullet what seemed like hours ago. We had both taken bloody hits. He turned to me, a grin revealing the new gaps in his smile.

“We will cleanse our House of this dirt,” I promised my general.

“Might need to knock it all down and build anew.”

I turned sharply at the sound of Sasha’s voice.

“My love?” I asked, delighted to see her, standing there among the rubble of the destroyed foyer, her hair tied back, dust and sweat streaking her face, clothing ripped and tattered, a mischievous smile brightening the gloom. But my delight turned to concerned anxiety, as I remembered giving clear instructions for her to flee to House Petra. “Why are you still here?” I questioned as I walked towards her.

“Percy is a runner,” she answered with a shrug.

Of course, Selene’s little witch was full of surprises. And how foolish it was of me to expect my witch of stone and hearth to abandon our home.

I met her and looked her over—a small cut above her eyebrow, beaded red. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and swiping the drop of blood away with my thumb and bringing it to my lips to taste. Sasha was tangy, like ripe fruit, with a sweet, citrusy flavour — an explosion of sensation as violent and as alluring as any battle.

“Ada, now isn’t the time,” Sasha admonished softly, and the slight blush of her cheeks warmed me in a way that almost made me forget where I was and my previous preoccupation. She smiled wickedly, “You’re excused,” she continued.

I tilted my head in confusion, and it was then that I heard fighting behind me. Sasha had a way of consuming all my attention.

I turned just as another combatant rebel launched themselves at me. This one began to shift; the fabric of her cheap, grey uniform split and tore free from her body.

A button flew past me.

She had mistimed her shift, so young, so unaccustomed to warfare and bloodshed. I captured her in my grip, like plucking her from the air, and took her by the throat, but the bear claws of her half-shifted hand swiped at my face, narrowly slicing through the top layers of skin on my cheek.

I growled in rage.

“If that scars, I will gather everyone you ever cared for and slaughter them,” I told the half-shifted, half-naked woman, gasping and struggling for air in my grip while her claws tore at my forearm.

I slammed her into the ruined, splintered, destroyed, beyond-repair solid oak flooring of the foyer. It had once been so pristine, I mused, as I slowly closed my fist. The act caved in her windpipe, my fingers pushing through, piercing flesh, and blood trickled between my fingers. The shifter woman didn’t so much as gasp for air. She couldn’t. Her yellow eyes dulled until they were empty, and no one was there to stare back at me.