Page 15

“Walk, Nessa.”

I glared down the steep limestone staircase that cut into the earth like the gaping mouth of a beast. Distant music reverberated from the darkness and into my bones. My heartbeat quickened alongside the drumbeat. “You’re not serious.”

Maire had talked almost nonstop for the past hour. Through scrubbing me raw in a giant tub, dumping all of my clothes into the fire without a care, and tossing a ball of gauzy white fabric at my head. She had remained harsh and abrupt… until we reached the Staircase of Doom.

“Now, Nessa,” she snapped. “Remember what I said? Keep your eyes down. Never let them see your expression. Follow all instructions quickly and silently. Disobey and there will be consequences.”

I swallowed and took the first step. Then the second. Maire had repeated those four rules like they were core tenets. Maybe they were, given the utter silence of the Maboni who walked in a line behind us. A handful of black-clothed, collared thralls moved among the wave of white descending deeper into the earth, but I hadn’t spoken to anyone except Maire. Like during the journey from Mabon, I stood apart.

Too bad I wasn’t dressed differently.

A white gown slid down the softness of my belly and over the curve of my hips, flowing to the floor. Every inch of my skin was visible through the translucent waterfall of fabric. Maire had pierced my ears with quick, efficient movements, the sting barely registering before she slipped in a pair of simple gold studs. She had then brushed out my braid, leaving my brown hair loose and drifting down to my waist.

I had never felt so exposed.

“Why even bother dressing us?” I asked. “Why not just send us into their dens naked? We basically are.”

“What color do they wear at Maboni weddings?”

Horror slowly rose within me. “...white?”

“Why?”

“To…” I swallowed. The sick fucks. “To show we’re pure and untouched.”

“Exactly.”

Shivers danced across my skin. I wrapped my arms around myself. A sharp pain lanced through my core. I sucked in a breath. How many hours had passed since the kings last cast a soothing rune? Too many. Especially with terror pressing in, anxiety tightening around my throat, and the desire I refused to acknowledge burning beneath it all.

A murmur of voices reached my ears over the music. The runelight sconces along the walls had grown dim, fewer and farther between, but the next one illuminated a polished marble floor stretching into the darkness. A corner ahead bled soft light.

I squeezed my fist open and shut.

The end of the Staircase of Doom.

The start of the worst night of my life.

I didn’t care what advice Maire thought she imparted upon me. None of it changed that simple truth.

“One foot in front of the other, Nessa,” Maire said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

I reached the marble floor and turned the corner.

I stumbled.

Runelights carved into towering stalactites bathed the cavern in an eerie glow. The space was massive, easily the size of the castle aboveground. Multiple tiered floors stretched into the rock, each lined with chaises, cushions, pools, and tables piled with food. Five levels dropped below us, assuming we mirrored what I barely glimpsed on the other side of a yawning chasm. Narrow paths crisscrossed the gap, terrifyingly thin and without rails. A human would fall to their death trying to cross, but a vampire could probably walk it blindfolded.

Maire had called this space the Abyss. The sinister name fit perfectly.

But its majestic yet lethal architecture wasn’t the easiest thing to focus on.

Not with all the writhing bodies.

A vampire man had his female thrall’s legs around his neck, his fangs buried in her thigh. On the chaise beside them, a human male thrust into a vampire woman with reckless abandon. In the nearest pool, a vampire man fucked his male thrall from behind, licking a trail of blood on his shoulder. My gaze flickered from body to body to body. The wet slap of flesh and fervent cries of release joined the echoing music to create a debauched symphony.

I had witnessed glimpses of feedings on the road, but nothing like this. The depravity the Church warned about came to a terrible, sinful light. Godstars, protect me from what is to come. I hadn’t prayed in years, but I couldn’t stop the thought. This was the terrible fate that awaited all the Maboni. That awaited me.

But for ten thousand years, this was simply life. When the first demons fell to the earth, all of humanity became prey.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the hysteria down. You will survive this.

“Shit,” Maire muttered behind me. “You’re untried.”

“I think this would be a shocking sight for anyone.”

“That’s not the problem. You’re the property of the Imperium now.” Maire fumbled around in her skirts. Where was she even hiding a pocket? “After they claim you as their Mortal Bride, they’ll likely feed from you. They’re both large enough that it will hurt if you’re inexperienced.”

Large? Make that massive. I bit my lip to stifle a strangled laugh. If I started, I didn’t think I’d ever stop. “Won’t their venom help?”

“Their venom is strong, stronger than most, but no venom will last long enough to help you when you walk tomorrow.”

I nodded absently. Tomorrow. When I was Mortal Bride and thrall to the Conqueror and the Butcher. After they claimed me tonight. After they fucked me tonight. My mind spun, light and untethered. Huh. Was this what dissociation felt like? I’d only read about it.

Maire gave up her search with a sharp breath. “I didn’t think to bring any salve. I’ll bring it to you the first chance I get. Neither king is… overly cruel to their thralls, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“How do you know?”

“That the kings aren’t overly cruel to their thralls?” she asked. When I nodded, she continued, “I’ve served the Imperial Family for nearly a decade. While I belong solely to the Crown Mage now, I didn’t until three years ago.”

Something unexpected flared in my chest. Anger? Jealousy? It didn’t matter. I had no right to feel any of it. Only terror. “So you’ve fucked both of the kings?”

“I’ve fed both of them.” Maire’s grip on my arm tightened. We had stood still for too long, the line of humans waiting behind us. She pulled me forward. “While fucking and feeding are intertwined for vampires, we refer to it as feeding only. You’ll do well to remember that. To say you fucked a vampire is to infer you’re their lover. Most won’t react kindly to that insinuation from a thrall.”

“So we’ll only have sex with them during feedings?”

Maire looked down. “I didn’t say that.”

I nodded slowly. I couldn’t manage anything more for a reply.

Maire weaved us through the Abyss, past beautiful vampires in various stages of undress, their fangs sinking into mortal flesh. Hundreds of eyes flickered toward me as we moved deeper and deeper. I didn’t turn to see if the Maboni followed.

If I looked anywhere except at the floor in front of me, I’d scream.

If I thought of all the eyes tracing my body, I’d run.

But it was impossible not to notice the Azarasians slowly abandoning their thralls and facing me—and the procession undoubtedly behind me. Unholy light gleamed in each luminous gaze.

Something tingled across my skin, a softer caress that chased away the scratches of attention and settled me firmly back in my body.

I peeked up through my lashes, only for my gaze to crash into molten silver and gold.

All Azarasians with soulbonds had the same colored eyes, but I recognized these in a heartbeat. We had reached the far corner, where a grand staircase carved into the rock rose beside a drop into nothingness. It led up to a platform holding a single black throne. Constructed entirely of daemium, it wafted shadows from its high back and curling armrests, every visible inch carved with tiny, shivering runes.

And probably every hidden inch, too.

But the Kings of Dusk and Dawn blocked my view.

The throne’s seat was wide enough for both vampires, with room to spare. On the left, Luc lounged with the lazy confidence of a predator. His high-collared navy doublet fit his broad chest perfectly, fastened with two columns of silver buttons. Dark trousers and knee-high boots fit him with the same precision.

Jules sat cross-legged on the right, his elbow propped on his knee. He still hadn’t found shoes, bare feet peeking from beneath dark slacks. His ruffled white shirt hung unbuttoned to his sternum, two thick golden chains crossing his chest between crimson epaulets threaded with gold. He’d traded out his rings for ones with larger gems, though none matched the teardrop-shaped rubies dangling from his ears.

Between us and the kings’ platform, four vampires sprawled on gilded chaises and plush cushions. The Kings’ Council. Maire had gone over their names quickly. On the left, Crown Enforcer Sabas spoke low to his soulbound, a golden-eyed, brown-haired man who bore a striking resemblance to Jules. Crown Mage Cédric Roche, Jules’s brother and Maire’s master.

To the right, General Isabeau reclined back, her fingers absently stroking the ringlets of the black-haired, dark-skinned beauty curled against her. Crown Chancellor Roxiana Vela, Luc’s aunt through his deceased grandmother, Marisol Vela.

When Maire had said that, I’d startled. I recognized the name. Before Marisol became the Regent of Tenebra de Mar and grandmother to the Beast King’s son and heir, she was a lieutenant under Azaras at the start of The Soulborne Queen. Karra hadn’t liked her very much.

Isabeau murmured something, and Roxiana straightened, her silver eyes widening as they locked onto me. She didn’t bother lowering her voice. “Really? Her ?”

Luc snapped his fingers.

The music stopped.

The entire floor—no, the entire cavern—dropped into absolute silence.

All the vampires bowed. Maire nudged me sharply. Thralls had to drop to their knees before the Imperium. Only vampires were allowed to stand. I forced my legs to move, sinking down with the others to the cold, dark marble.

Roxiana stood with inhuman grace. She was about my height, easily making her one of the shortest vampires I’d encountered so far. Her dark ringlets cascaded to her waist and her ochre gown clung to her curves, its cut-outs perfectly placed to reveal flashes of her toned abs, arms, and legs.

Even in the middle of a vampire feast, I couldn’t stop my envy. Starsdamned demonblood genetics.

Her voice boomed across the Abyss, amplified by a rune I couldn’t see. “You stand before their Majesties Lucero Azaras and Julien Roche, Kings of Dusk and Dawn, Imperators of the Blood Legion, and Imperium of the Azarasians.” A pause. “You may all rise.”

We all did.

“Who presents the Maboni Harvest?” Roxiana asked.

All the attention turned to me. My throat went dry. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. They were all staring. The kings, their council, the gathered Azarasians, the harvested and collared thralls, hundreds upon hundreds of eyes dissecting me like a specimen in a laboratory.

I forced myself to breathe, but it wasn’t enough. My hands clenched into the fabric of my gown, but there was no comfort in it.

Only the reminder of how little it covered.

Pain curled low in my abdomen, a familiar, unwelcome pressure. My tongue felt too thick. The words were there, but they stuck in my throat. No one moved.

Luc and Jules waited. The council waited. The entire cavern waited.

This was a nightmare.

Maire’s fingers brushed mine.

I flinched. But it was enough.

“I will, Your Excellence,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

It didn’t matter. The silence carried it anyway.

“And who presents the Isauran Harvest?”

The Isauran Harvest? There were witches here, too? Movement sounded behind me. I finally twisted around. The Maboni cowered, a stark contrast to the line breaking off from the end of ours, approaching alongside.

The Isaurans looked human, if slightly taller. Unlike vampires, their demon blood didn’t gift them inhuman beauty, though most were attractive. A faint shadow rim circled some of their otherwise ordinary irises, thin enough to be overlooked.

They wore collars already, marked with runes. Suppress. Submit. Obey. It almost looked like the thrall runespell. Why not carve it into their skin?

The first seven witches appeared in their everyday garments, but the twenty or so behind them were clad in the same white fabric I wore. They all walked with straight shoulders and raised chin, their lowered eyes the only sign of submission. Vampires leered as they passed, but the witches didn’t shrink back.

When they reached the front, one separated from the group. A slim, dark-haired girl moved forward, a gilded cane tapping against the floor with every step.

No, not a woman. A teenager .

She was the youngest person in the Abyss. The youth from Mabon had been ushered from the thrall bathing chambers to their new quarters. Maire had said they wouldn’t be spared, but they would only feed vampires of a similar age until adulthood.

The teenage witch folded both her hands on top of her cane. “I will, Imperium.”

Luc arched one dark brow. “And you are?”

“Morrena, Exalted Daughter of Isaura, Your Majesty.”

Luc stiffened.

Jules nearly slid off his seat, kicking his feet in glee. “Morrena? We didn’t recognize you in your new body. How’s that treating you?”

New body? What in the stars did Jules mean by that? Witches couldn’t shapeshift like demons. Vampires could barely manage it, and their ancestry was more demon than human.

“Better than death, Your Majesty.”

Jules cackled. “Very true. I forgot how hilarious you are.”

“No one finds me as funny as you do, Your Majesty.”

The smile slipped from his face. Something dark and terrifying moving behind the King of Dawn’s golden eyes. “Careful. I don’t enjoy strapping children to my Block, but I’ll make an exception for you, given you’re… what? Four thousand?”

Four thousand? But witches were mortal, living a couple hundred years on average. That was the whole reason they created the everlife runespell. Was it because she had a new body? How did that work?

I let the questions distract me. Otherwise, I’d have to consider the Butcher’s Block, a thing of horror stories. I had hoped it wasn’t real.

Morrena didn’t react to the threat. “Four thousand one hundred and eighty-nine, Your Majesty.”

Jules whistled. “Damn. You just refuse to die.”

She almost frowned, but the Exalted Daughter wiped her expression quickly.

“You last presented the Isauran Harvest twenty years ago, did you not?” Luc asked, done with the pleasantries. If threatening to torture someone on the Butcher’s Block could be considered a pleasantry.

“I did, Your Majesty.”

“And last you were here, you attempted to surrender to us again.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Luc’s voice turned frigid. “Since then, have you heard from your sister, Exalted Allegra?”

Who was Exalted Allegra? The Queen Mother Luc had mentioned after the wraith attack? That explained the change in his tone. The air in the cavern dropped. It was never a good idea to piss off a vampire. But to anger the Conqueror? The entire harvest, witch and human, hunched their shoulders, making themselves smaller.

“Not since we last spoke, Your Majesty,” Morrena said carefully.

“Then perhaps you should try again.”

Morrena stared at the kings’ feet for a long second. Then, with slow, creaking movements, she dropped back to her knees, clutching at her cane for balance. She pulled up her sleeve, exposing her forearm. “On behalf of Isaura and its High Council, I, Morrena, Exalted Daughter of Queen Isaura, surrender unconditionally to the Azarasian Impire. My country and our citizens are at your mercy.”

The shadows of a runespell appeared. Oath. Loyalty. Union. Retribute. The first three runes matched the allegiance spell Azaras once used to bind his citizens to the throne. But I had only ever seen the retribution rune on Maboni brands.

The rune that killed the man who tried to leave our island.

Morrena had pledged her life to Isaura. Wouldn’t surrender trigger the rune?

Tension thickened the air, every eye on the rune on Morrena’s skin…

Nothing happened. Was something supposed to? If Allegra was dead, would the allegiance runespell have faded, since Morrena would have inherited her throne?

Jules sighed. “Nope. Bitch must still be alive.”

Morrena remained on her knees. “Allegra is tenacious, Your Majesty.”

“We will find her one day,” Luc said darkly.

“One day,” Morrena said. “But that day is not today, Your Majesty.”

Luc glared, but Morrena didn’t die instantly. She flirted the line between stupidity and bravery just as I did. Or skirted, more accurately. Exalted Morrena didn’t seem the least bit interested in the kings.

That insanity was mine alone.

“Proceed with the harvest,” Jules said, when it became apparent Luc would not.

He said the words to both of us, but his gaze was on me.

Morrena glanced over from where she kneeled and raised her brow. My jaw opened. What was I saying again? Maire had told me the words, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember them.

There was another reason beyond my illness that I never left my bookshop. The crowd’s gaze stabbed into me, as sharp as my illness and just as destructive to my thoughts.

Morrena faced the kings. “We thank the Impire for their generosity. You provide the clothes on our backs, the food in our bellies, and the roofs over our heads. In repayment of such kindness, we gift you twenty-five of our people to serve as your new thralls, from this day until they breathe no longer.”

Ah, yes. Those were the words.

When the silence continued after Morrena spoke, a thousand waiting eyes on me, I exhaled deeply. “We thank the Impire for their generosity,” I said, my voice only trembling slightly. “You provide the clothes on our backs, the food in our bellies, and the roofs over our heads. In repayment of such kindness, we gift you three hundred and five of our people to serve as your new thralls, from this day until they breathe no longer.”

“And?”

I swallowed. “I gift you myself to serve as your new Mortal Bride, from this day until I breathe no longer.”

“We accept your gifts,” Luc said, a spark of heat flaring in his gaze. He completely ignored Morrena at my side, his eyes fixed on me as intently as Jules’s. “Now come here, Miss Halloran.”

My insides flipped. I forced myself to straighten. Every part of me wanted to cower, to fold into myself and disappear. My breath stuttered out.

I would survive.

I put one foot in front of the other. If I thought any further, I’d make a run for it. I had no interested in being fucked into the nearest chaise. I didn’t know if walking toward the kings would stop that from happening, but hopefully it reduced the chances.

Tonight, at least.

Every vampire, witch, and human stared as I approached the kings. To them, I was just flesh. They’d use my body like any other thrall. Like what would’ve happened anyway if I’d let Aislin go and stayed behind, waiting to be harvested at thirty. They couldn’t claim any more from me than that.

But a sudden rush of… everything washed through my chest. Rage. Fear. Resignation. Hope. I dug my fingers into my palms. There were too many emotions to sort through.

Beneath it all, my pulse throbbed between my legs.

I climbed each step in time with my breath, not too fast, not too slow. The kings’ daemium throne sat in the center of a circle of runes only a couple steps away. Dominion. Protect. Echo . I frowned. The power and protection runes made sense, but what did echo mean?

Finally, I reached the top. My eyes flickered up slowly—

Two nearly black gazes ensnared me. A sharp ache formed in my chest.

Luc leaned back, taking in every nearly bare inch of me. “Hello again, little curiosity.”

My nipples tightened, the sheer fabric grazing against them with every breath. Stars, what had they done to me? This couldn’t be natural. A second ago, I had gifted myself to them. I had gifted three hundred of my people to them.

To be eaten and fucked.

Jules patted his knee, drawing me from my thoughts. “Sit.”

“On you?”

“On my knee.” His lip twitched. “It’s one of the more innocuous places you’ll find yourself sitting.”

I shuddered, my heart skipping a beat. The corner of his lips twitched at the sight. I pushed the image of sitting on Jules’s cock right out of my head and faced the problem at hand.

How did one go about sitting on another? Jules’s thighs were sculpted to perfection but my ass still wouldn’t fit. I hesitated, trapped in my own mind. I didn’t know what to do. Worse, people were watching. How many were at my back?

Fuck, I was going to vomit… or cry.

If I was unlucky, maybe both.

A hand looped around my waist and tugged me down.

I fell into Jules’s lap. My body locked up. I was sitting on the Butcher. Jules traced the outside of my thigh, the heat of him burning through the thin layers of fabric.

He leaned closer until his mouth brushed the ridge of my ear. “I can feel your pulse between your legs, lovely. Will you be drenched for us by the time we leave the dais?”

I gasped at the terrible, wicked, enticing words. Fuck. I managed a glare, aiming for aghast and landing on desperation.

Jules playfully nipped my chin, a faint brush of teeth.

I nearly jumped off his lap, but his arm around my waist tensed. Luc dropped a hand on my knee. I froze. The King of Dusk didn’t look at me, but he didn’t have to. His touch was a brand just like the one that once graced my neck.

“You’re dismissed, Morrena,” Luc said. “Return to the exit with your delegation and you’ll be escorted to your rooms.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Exalted Morrena finally rose to her feet, her knuckles white on her cane. She turned on her heels and walked back the way we came.

The six other witches in ordinary clothes followed her, one by one. We watched and watched and watched until they disappeared from view.

A lump formed in my throat.

The air in the cavern shifted, tension rising like a drawn bow.

The vampires stared, their bodies wound tight, coiled like beasts before the pounce.

Dread pooled in my belly, cold and suffocating.

I will not cry.

I will not scream.

I will not let these monsters break me.

I tried to shuffle out of the kings’ oddly comforting touches, but their hands tightened on my knee and ass, holding me in place.

Luc glanced at their chancellor. “Roxiana?”

Roxiana sliced her hands through the air, and a rune flared into existence. Count . The shadows solidified into glowing numbers. I frowned at the giant 60, as confused as every other Maboni. What had the rune counted?

The Isaurans just looked grim.

59.

58.

57…

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Roxiana grinned as the vampire horde circled like vultures. “I suggest you run.”