Page 19

My fingers drifted across the silver-gold collar encircling my neck. A single tear slipped free, racing down my cheek. How many Mortal Brides had worn this collar? Had carried their runespell inside their chest?

How many more would wear it after me?

Jules glanced back at me, at the body. “Ah, don’t cry, lovely. He quite enjoyed his death.”

I tore my gaze from the corpse. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“From your perspective, I suppose.”

“From anyone’s perspective.”

“Any human perspective,” he corrected, twisting around to walk backward as he tugged me along. “Coming to death is a goal of mine.”

“Then why don’t you offer yourself as the next meal? Spare some poor human if you’re so eager.” The words snapped free, sharp and angry. Against Maire’s rules. But I didn’t care.

“Careful, little curiosity.” Luc’s deep voice swept over me. He didn’t touch me again, but I felt him there, at my back. “We’re not above punishing our errant brides when they speak out of turn.”

The hairs on my skin raised. I twisted, just enough to see his intimidating form in my periphery. “Punish how?”

His lip curled slightly. “Depends on the bride.”

Jules sighed, almost dreamily. “I can’t wait.”

I shuddered… but I didn’t think it was in fear. Stars, I was fucked in the head. I started to frown, to cover my perverse desire, then caught myself. Never let them see your expression. I didn’t have to deny or disapprove of their sinful ways like the Church demanded. Not anymore. I needed to stay blank, unaffected.

I kept my steps steady, my gaze forward. I would not tremble.

The kings crossed the Abyss with me between them, weaving around furniture and thralls like they were one and the same. I didn’t notice another dead body. The others from the harvest were splattered with dried blood, their clothing shredded, but otherwise appeared unharmed.

Physically, at least. Most of them now wore simple silver or gold collars like Maire and the other experienced thralls, though a few necks remained bare. More than one person we passed clawed at the metal, fingers desperate but useless against the solid band.

We reached a grand archway, massive wooden doors propped open to allow free movement between rooms. This wasn’t the tiny door we had entered through last night, leading to a narrow hallway and that endless staircase. This space was different. Soft carpets muffled my steps, three twinkling chandeliers of rubies casting deep red light across gilded daemium gates. Nearly thirty of them hung like mirrors along the walls.

A silver-eyed vampire female in a slinky crimson gown bowed beside the entrance. On the table next to her, an open box revealed plain iron collars, like the ones I’d seen on some thralls outside Dawnspear. The different collar types meant something, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

There was only one other door in the room.

It better fucking lead to the privy.

“Imperium,” the female said, dipping into a deep bow.

I pulled my hand from Jules’s and crossed the room, head held high. The vampire female didn’t even look at me. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unwavering, obedient. Even if she had looked up, who would stare at me when the Kings of Dusk and Dawn stood there like living sculptures?

“Rise, Luisa,” Luc said. “How many unclaimed thralls have passed through?”

“Not many, Your Majesty. This quarter’s harvest was quite popular with the High Courts…”

I pushed into the privy, her response fading away. Like the one I’d used before the revelry, runes kept the small chamber clean, disposing of waste instantly. I could get used to never needing an outhouse or chamber pot again.

By the time I finished, the kings were speaking softly as Luisa fastened an iron collar around an older Maboni man. He clutched the remnants of his torn outfit in front of his crotch, his knuckles white. Both kings looked up as I crossed the Hall of Mirrors toward them. Their gazes swept over me, assessing, unhurried. I kept my spine straight and my arms lowered, but the urge to cover myself itched at my skin.

Jules sighed wistfully. “I deeply regret not fucking you again before getting out of bed.”

I didn’t even blink. Saying wild, ridiculous things was just Jules.

The King of Dawn’s gold eyes flickered to mine, his brows slightly raising as his lips quirked. “Not even a purse of those pretty lips. Have you adapted to me already?”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

Luisa’s head whipped toward me in shock.

Jules pursed his lips. “That’s not it.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re not hard to read.”

It wasn’t an insult. But it still hit like one. Simple. Boring. Ordinary. Not hard to read. I added Jules’s words to the list, stacking them alongside my stepmother’s taunts and the whispers of my neighbors in Corraidin.

I turned away before he could see it sink in. “Privy aside, why didn’t we use the gate in your… private cave?”

Jules snorted. “Private cave?”

Luc’s callous gaze didn’t rise from me. Behind his icy facade, there was something sharp, biting. A trace of heat. He couldn’t be disappointed about not fucking me, could he?

“That one is linked to a specific gate in our apartment,” the King of Dusk said. “We’ve warded our apartment against intruders. If you were to step through, the spell would attack you instantly.”

Their apartment. I hadn’t asked where the Mortal Bride lived. I hadn’t assumed with the kings, but if my lifeforce now powered their most important runespell, it made sense. I was a vulnerability for them. They would want to keep me close.

How close, exactly?

In the next room close?

Or in their bed close?

My nerves tried to grab my cunt and make a run for it. I stopped them both from going wild.

Jules raised his hand toward the end of the Hall of Mirrors, where an expanse of wall stood empty of daemium gates. Something rippled. I squinted, but my vision warped. Was that a glamour rune? There was one on my chest now, hiding the covenant, but seeing another on something that wasn’t solid was… unsettling.

When the floating trail of blood touched the barrier, the glamour fell away.

Jules summoned blood from a body chained to the wall. Three gilded bars carved with runes looped around the unconscious thrall, a cage around their legs, torso, and neck. Sleep. Soothe. Endure. Thin, sharp blades erupted from the bottom of the neck piece, stabbing the thrall’s chest below their collarbone. Blood trickled down from each puncture point.

I stared in horror. Even after Jules pulled all the blood he needed to activate the runegate, even as the glamour resettled, hiding them from view. Their face had been serene, peaceful. Like they weren’t being drained, drop by drop, their lifeforce keeping the vampires’ runegates running.

A hand looped through mine. Luc’s. I barely had time to react before he dragged me forward, straight toward the daylight now spilling through the open gate.

A shiver wracked my body as I stepped through. Light hit my eyes, bright and disorienting after the Abyss’s dim glow. I blinked, adjusting. This hallway was nothing like the ones below Dawnspear. Pale wallpaper framed elaborate crown molding and arched casement windows, polished marble floors gleaming in the sunlight. Behind me, the runegate settled back to solid daemium, blending seamlessly with gold-framed art of bloody battles and even bloodier revelries.

Beautiful and terrible, like almost everything in the Impire.

At least there weren’t any bodies chained to the wall.

That I could see, at least.

Luc released my hand and approached a towering set of solid gold doors, their surface carved with hundreds of looping runes. Ward. Protect. Shield. Barrier. The power of the runespell hit me all at once. It wasn’t nearly as searing as the covenant, but it radiated like banked fire, stronger than most magic I’d encountered.

Luc lifted a hand, expectant. “We’ll need your blood to add you to the wards.”

I swallowed but approached the kings and that intimidating door. The end of the hall behind me led to a set of stairs, but running wouldn’t be an option again. Vampires treated chases like foreplay.

When I reached Luc, I placed my knuckles in his palm. His thumbnail darkened, sharpening to a wicked black edge. With a quick slice, blood welled from the shallow cut.

I waited for the instinct to pull away. It never came. I didn’t react. Didn’t have to force myself not to flinch. I had been trying to hide my fear, but this time, there was strangely nothing to hide. Moments ago, I had been thinking about death—about thralls drained dry, about what it meant to be a Mortal Bride. That fear still sat in my chest, cold and heavy.

But standing here alone, between the Conqueror and the Butcher, I felt… comfortable.

My brow furrowed. Jules was right. It was far too soon for me to have adapted to them. Ever since I met the kings, even when I boldly raised my eyes to theirs and spoke my mind, my nervous terror had beat beneath my skin.

Now, it didn’t.

Was it because I was the Mortal Bride now?

No, that didn’t make any sense. If it was, Jules wouldn’t have asked.

Luc waved his hand over mine, pulling my blood into the air. He guided it to the runes on the door. With a flare of shadows, they drank up my blood.

Nothing happened.

“Is that all—”

Luc pushed open the doors.

I stopped short, breath catching. A collection of plush red chaises before a massive fireplace filled the center of a high-ceilinged room, even more elaborate than the hallway. But it was the massive window that stole my attention. Like a moth to flame, I drifted toward it.

Montaurère sprawled below, glittering in the morning sun. A terrace with overflowing planters of bright roses cut into my view, but from this vantage point at the top of the mountain, the entire city lay open before me. Spires rose from rooftops, their pointed tips reaching for the sky, casting long shadows over pale, vine-covered stone. Twisting streets carved through the city’s expanse, leading toward the lake far below. Beyond its turquoise-blue depths, mountains rippled across the horizon.

My entire life had been spent in the streets of Corraidin and the inked pages of my books. I had traveled the world through those stories, but my imagination paled in comparison to reality.

My toes brushed something soft. A dark rug lay in a patch of sunlight, a stark contrast to the white, gold, and red that dominated the room.

I might have questioned the decorating.

Except the rug moved.

A massive black wolf uncoiled, paws the size of my face pressing against the floor. I stopped dead. Smooth black fur ruffled faintly with shadows, the beast four hundred pounds of prowling death. My body locked in place as the beast stretched, yawning, exposing a mouth full of wickedly sharp teeth.

The hellwolf moved to sniff me, its warm breath brushing my face. I leaned away. Or maybe I was falling over. I couldn’t really tell.

Luc’s arm looped around my waist. His thick, corded muscles pressed into my soft stomach. “Titus, don’t eat our guests.”

I don’t know why, but I held out my hand. Titus was a hellbeast, not a pet, but I hoped this wasn’t offensive. I really hoped the kings wouldn’t let him rip my arm off.

The hellwolf’s glowing black eyes pinned me in place. My heartbeat stuttered and a line of sweat dripped down my back.

A second later, Titus released me from his gaze and nuzzled my hand.

I almost dropped in relief. Thank the stars. I gave him a quick scratch behind the ear. It luckily didn’t result in the loss of an appendage. I pulled back after the quick touch, not wanting to test another monster’s patience—

Titus nudged my hand and whimpered.

“Gah, fine, I’ll pet you.” I raised my second hand, scratching behind both ears at once. His tongue lolled out, a monstrous thing acting like an overgrown dog.

The kings were silent behind me. I twisted around.

Luc was staring. Not cold or callous but sharp and focused like I had just done something impossible. Behind him, Jules gaped. The King of Dawn snapped his jaw shut a second later, hiding his shock behind an easy smile. But I still caught it, peeking out around the mask.

“It’s generally ill-advised for anyone else to touch Titus,” Jules said as he approached with his hand out.

Titus butted his head against the vampire in greeting, then immediately leaned back into my touch.

Jules eyed the hellwolf with exaggerated offense. “He seems to like you.”

Befriending a hellwolf was the least weird thing to happen to me today. And it was still morning.

“How did you domesticate a hellwolf?” I asked into the silence.

“He’s not domesticated.” Luc’s attention shifted to the hellwolf. “I told you not to follow us to Mabon.”

Follow them? Was this the hellwolf I spotted in the woods that first night? When he had run off into the darkness, I imagined him returning to a cave or wherever hellwolves lived. Not to Dawnspear to sleep on the kings’ floors.

The wolf shook my hand off his head and glared at Luc.

“Staying in the woods the whole time still counts,” Luc said, like he understood the glare.

Titus huffed, affronted.

Wait. “Does he understand you?”

The hellwolf’s shadowed gaze flickered back to me. Shit. He did. There was no doubt in my mind, staring into those dark eyes.

Luc nodded. “Which is why he shouldn’t have followed us.”

Titus turned wide, innocent eyes on the King of Dusk. After a moment, Luc sighed softly. He gave the wolf a scratch on the head. “Don’t do it again.”

Titus let out a low rumble, a far more agreeable sound. The hellwolf flopped back down into the beam of light and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly to the sun. I couldn’t blame him, but it left me alone between the very naked, very intense kings.

“Um.” I wracked my brain for something to say, but it was like they tried to stare into me. My thoughts scattered. “What now?”

The door slammed open in answer. Both kings twisted. Jules hissed through black-tipped fangs as Luc moved until his broad shoulders blocked my view. Or blocked me from view. Their reaction was immediate and possessive.

And arousing, but I ignored that.

I pressed onto my toes, but the only thing to balance on was Luc. I dropped back down, glared at those enormous shoulders, and leaned to one side to peek around.

Roxiana stood in the doorway, her body still and gaze lowered. A slight frown creased between her brows.

Luc relaxed and Jules stopped hissing. A faint flush tinted the King of Dawn’s cheeks as his fangs dissolved into smoke. Was he embarrassed? I didn’t think Jules was capable of something so human.

“Yes, Roxiana?” Luc asked smoothly.

“The Council session started fifteen minutes ago. Jules is sometimes late, but you never are. What’s wrong?” She glanced between their naked forms, at me behind them. “I can cancel—”

“No.” Luc looked to Jules, who nodded and turned for an open doorway on one side of the fireplace. “We haven’t convened in over a month. There’s much to discuss.”

Luc turned, the Conqueror fully back in control. His silver eyes locked onto mine. “Starting with our new Mortal Bride.”