Page 20

Just because the Council meeting was about me didn’t mean I was invited.

I watched the gilded door close behind the kings and stared for a solid minute. For the first time in over a week, I was alone. Air rushed from my lungs, like I hadn’t breathed since they called my sister’s name in the harvest. My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor.

I was the Mortal Bride to the Kings of Dusk and Dawn.

I would never step foot in Mabon again.

The Butcher had eaten me out last night and had threatened to do so daily.

That last one wasn’t entirely terrible. Still, I pressed a hand to my chest and tried to steady my breaths. Focused on the tangled knot of emotions unraveling inside me. I’d shoved them down when the kings woke, but now they surged back, raw and forceful. Terror. Anger. Grief. And… excitement?

Stars, I’d hoped that the last one would vanish once I was free of their alluring presences. But the pull of them lingered. Sometimes I thought I could get lost in their eyes. Just lean into that silver and gold and ignore the world.

Last night, I had let them lure me into tranquility, uncaring what they did with my body as long as it felt good. But if my desire for them wasn’t entirely a lie, maybe my surrender wasn’t either.

Maybe I had wanted them to fuck me.

Wicked, sinful girl.

My fingers traced the cool metal at my throat, curling around the silver-gold collar. My body was just confused. I had spent the last week in fear. The last couple years in isolation. Anyone would crave touch after that. Anyone would find it harder to resist comfort when everything around them had fallen apart. It was survival. Nothing more.

And their venom. That was surely warping my mind, too.

That was all. That had to be all. I was little more than their pet, their belonging—

A whine pulled me out of my head.

I dropped my hand and glanced down. Titus had rolled onto his back, fixing me with a pathetic, pleading look. If he were a normal dog and not a demon wolf, I’d assume he wanted belly scratches.

But since he was a demon wolf, I could just ask. “If I scratch your belly, will you eat my hand?”

Titus cocked his head to the side like I’d said something silly.

Well, if he killed me, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about what the fuck to do next.

I didn’t have many options. I couldn’t leave. Even if I could slip through Dawnspear’s labyrinthine streets, even if I made it past thousands of vampires, I’d still have to survive the forests of hellbeasts and wraiths beyond Montaurère’s border stones.

Only to what? Go home to Mabon? Mabon belonged to the Azarasians. Flee somewhere new? There was a whole world beyond the Impire, but every inch of it belonged to demons and their spawn. Everything had since the First Godsfall.

Freedom was not an option for a human.

But that didn’t mean I could let my captors seduce me. Falling into pleasure, into debauchery, was the easy way through this new life. I couldn’t do it. They could have my blood and my body, but I couldn’t give them my soul.

But what if I did? What if I wasn’t strong enough to resist the easy way out? I had suffered for too long.

A sharp twinge lanced through my core, twisting deep and low. I hissed out a breath, pressing a hand to my lower belly. Damn illness, always answering its summons.

More accurately, the last soothing rune the kings had drawn was fading. They’d drawn one last night, and the rune had never lasted more than a day.

When they returned, would they draw another for me? Or had they only done that to lure me into being their Mortal Bride? My only option might be venom. How long did its effects last after the bite? My pain had been dulled so far this morning, but now it was creeping back.

So that was my answer. Their venom’s effects lasted no more than seven or eight hours. That wasn’t too terrible. But how often did thralls feed their masters? What if it was only every couple of days?

What if it was multiple times a day?

I didn’t like either option.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my breath steady. Calm. No reason to panic. No reason to let my anxiety spiral. Whatever happened, everything would be fine. Completely fine.

I stretched my bare legs out on the sun-warmed floor, letting the heat soak into my skin. Distraction. That was the only option now. I focused all my attention on rubbing my hand across Titus’s belly. The faint shadows of his coat tickled against my fingers, his warmth grounding me.

For a couple of minutes, nothing mattered but petting a hellwolf while sitting butt-naked in a collar on the floor of the Imperium’s apartment.

When my shoulders finally loosened, a long sigh escaped me.

Titus arched his eyebrows at me. Well, not exactly, given he was a wolf, but it felt like he did.

“It’s nothing,” I said, rubbing large circles into his dark fur. “Well, not nothing, but it doesn’t really matter.”

Titus whined again.

I blinked down at him. He actually wanted to know? It was odd that I knew that, but I answered him anyway. “My life has changed irrevocably in a single week. I don’t really know what to do about it. I don’t even know if I can do anything about it.”

Titus huffed like that was obvious. I took it back. This hellwolf was mostly prowling death, but the rest of him? Pure sass.

“If you’re so smart, what should I do then?”

Titus flopped back onto the floor, stretching lazily in the sun.

A vote for the easy way, then. But Titus was a hellwolf. He could roam the halls, the streets, the wilds without fear.

I patted him gently on the head. His black eyes slipped shut. He might understand me, but he didn’t know how to be human any more than I knew how to be a hellbeast.

Lying on the floor wasn’t an option for me.

Not forever, at least.

I wasn’t quick to stand. Even when my feet went numb, I lingered. When the pins and needles set in, I reluctantly pushed to my knees and wiggled my toes.

Titus glanced at me and whimpered.

“I’m just going to look around.” Without waiting for the hellwolf’s reply, I faced my new home—no, my new life. This wasn’t my home. I hadn’t had one of those since my mother was harvested. I never would again. I was the kings’ living sacrifice. Their thrall. This apartment was their home.

It was my gilded prison.

And gilded it was. Far above, the ceiling shimmered in faint, frosted gold. The patterns on the walls weren’t wallpaper but veins of solid metal. Gold-lined frames caged every painting, gold stars curled over the fireplace mantle, and the nearest chaise was backed in twisted gold. Yet, somehow, it wasn’t garish. The kings had found the line between opulence and overindulgence, weaving the gold seamlessly with the white stone floors, deep red cushions, lush green plants, and flashes of color in the violent art.

I meandered toward the open doorway. The kings had left this first room dressed, so I wasn’t surprised to step into a bedchamber. My eyes skipped past the towering windows and landed on the massive, four-poster bed carved from daemium.

The curtains were pulled back, exposing black, silky sheets and enough space for a dozen people. Shadows wafted from the frame, the surface carved with runes. Were the kings worried about assassins attacking in their sleep? I couldn’t think of another reason to have a bed frame made of solidified magic ripped straight from a starcrater.

My gaze lifted. The gold-frosted ceiling continued here, except directly over the mattress, where the haze faded to a perfect reflection. Anyone lying in that bed would see themselves sprawled out, every moment on display. Heat flared in my cheeks. How obscene.

I quickly looked away. Did the kings share this room? This bed? They were clearly intimate, but I didn’t know to what degree. Azaras hadn’t let anyone so much as glance at Karra once they were soulbound. But the kings had said they were companions, the weakest of Azarasian soulbonds.

A few steps away, a small circular table sat with two chairs, an intimate place to share a meal. A maroon cloak draped over the nearest seat. I tugged it around myself, its fabric still holding the scent of smoked honey. Of Jules.

My eyes drifted back to that bed.

Would I be expected to sleep with them? I didn’t want to sleep on the floor, but their bed wasn’t a great alternative, no matter how soft it appeared.

I backed out of the room with a sharp shake of my head, shoving the thought aside. I would deal with it when it happened, not a moment before. If I let the stress in, it would drag my illness with it, and neither would let go easily.

I crossed before the fireplace to the next door. Maybe it would lead to a second, smaller bedchamber for me? If the godstars were kind.

I pushed open the second door… and into a cacophony of color and the harsh scent of paint.

“Stars.” My eyes didn’t know where to start first. An easel, holding a bare canvas over a paint-splattered floor. A table cluttered with sheets of paper, each marred with charcoal. A pottery wheel, abandoned mid-spin, a perfect vase left untouched in the center. A solid block of marble taller than me, a chisel stabbed deep into the wall beside it. A bejeweled—

Wait, was that a bejeweled spine ?

Even from here, I could see the red stains on the bone. It wasn’t hard to picture Jules tearing someone in half and encrusting their still-bloody spine with gemstones. Seemed like his level of derangement.

A deep growl cut through my thoughts. I spun around quickly. Titus had raised his head, dark eyes fixed on a figure in black standing by the entrance. Maire. I hadn’t heard the door open. Where had she come from?

The thrall’s blond hair was pinned up, strands of gold tumbling loosely down her back. It exposed the slender line of her gold-collared neck. Her gown was the same gauzy black as yesterday’s, but today, instead of sleeves, the bodice twisted together and hooked into the base of her collar. She held another slip of black fabric over her arm, her green eyes cautious as they took me in.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other.

I cleared my throat. “Can I help you?”

Maire snorted, breaking the tension. “I attend to the Mortal Bride’s needs during the day. I’m here to help you .”

“Oh.” I pulled the cloak tighter around me. “Aren’t you Prince Cédric’s thrall?”

Maire slowly crossed the space to the chaises arranged between us. “He has no need for me if I’m not warming his bed or feeding him or his son.”

“Prince Cédric shares his thrall with his son ?”

“Prince Rosier is six months old.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t seen any vampire children yet, and Karra hadn’t mentioned any in The Soulborne Queen . Vampires were born the same way as humans and witches, but I didn’t know if they were loved and cherished or ignored until adulthood.

“What are you feeding him? Baby vampires don’t bite, do they?”

Maire’s smile was slight, but tight at the edges. “They do, but their venom doesn’t cause pleasure until puberty. They don’t take much lifeforce, so there’s no need for it to mask the agony.” She paused, then added, “But I meant that as infants, they drink their mother’s milk, same as any human baby.”

“Then why are you…” I stared and Maire stared back. “You’re his mother ?”

Maire’s jaw tightened. Bitterness crossed her expression, but it vanished before I could be sure.

“Prince Rosier is a vampire,” she said slowly, that pity for my ignorance back in her eyes. “I was never his mother, not even when I carried him inside me.”

“But… how?” I struggled to make sense of it. “You’re human. Cédric’s a vampire. Shouldn’t Prince Rosier be a witch?”

“The Azarasians have a runespell for that.” Maire spoke flatly, like it was common knowledge. The Azarasians had never told us that, though. “That’s how their population grew quicker than other vampire nations. The genesis runespell isn’t easy to cast. Most vampires couldn’t without the covenant.”

I stared, my stomach twisting. More horrified by Maire’s words than anything that had happened in the last day.

The room felt too warm. My breath came shallow, and the nausea that always lurked at the edges of my pain stirred awake. I had watched vampires descend on the terrified harvest, using them for their blood and bodies. The same had happened to me. But the kings had taken it further. They had bound my life to their covenant runespell.

But this?

Stealing our wombs? Taking our children? Refusing to let Maire even call the baby she carried hers?

My skin prickled, bile rising in my throat.

Maire raised her hands like I was a panicked animal. “Don’t worry. You’re the Mortal Bride. The kings have never bred a bride before.”

“You obviously didn’t hear what the Butcher said yesterday.” Stars, Jules’s threat to breed me took on a whole different meaning. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m… I can’t have children.”

Maire’s expression didn’t shift. “While that may be a curse in Mabon, that’s a blessing here.”

“Won’t they get angry at me?” I had watched far too many women publicly shamed by the Church for failing to provide their husbands with the three children needed to avoid the harvest. It had happened to my mother. She had been blamed for the weakness that killed my infant brother, born a year before me. And again after she miscarried a second time, only weeks before her name was called.

My father had been overjoyed when she was gone.

He had remarried within a month. Aislin was born less than a year later, fulfilling his quota just weeks before his thirtieth birthday.

Her lips curled slightly, but it wasn’t a smile. “Vampires are lucky to have one child a century. You won’t take the blame if they can’t plant their spawn in your womb.”

Something about the way she said it, distant and clipped, made my stomach turn. The thrall runespell might have encouraged loyalty, but even that couldn’t dull the horror of what she’d experienced.

Maire took two quick steps forward and placed something silvery on the low table between the chaises. Before Titus could growl, she quickly retreated. “The salve I promised. When you need a refill, let me know. Just because they can’t get you pregnant doesn’t mean they won’t try their hardest.”

I stared blankly at the tin.

“You can use it now, too. For the discomfort.”

“The… discomfort?” My brow furrowed. She was right. Why wasn’t I sore? There was no reality where I wouldn’t be if Jules had fucked me as hard as he planned. The kings had bitten me last night. I remembered that, the rush of sensation… and then…

The thought slipped away.

Maire’s brows lifted. “You don’t ache at all? Stars, I misjudged you, Nessa. Most Maboni virgins can’t take two vampire cocks in one night and walk straight the next day.”

Heat flushed to my cheeks. “I’m not… I didn’t…”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, they didn’t fuck you?”

I swallowed. Opened my mouth. The answer was yes, but it didn’t feel right. Why didn’t it?

“But they bit you? Did you choose agony?”

Shame twisted in my gut. “Uh, no, they bit me and…” I hesitated. The kings had pinned my body between them, their fangs sinking into my throat and then…

I shook my head. Maire had asked something, hadn’t she? I needed to answer. “None of it hurt then and it doesn’t hurt now, either.”

Her brows knit together. “Are you well, Nessa?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Jules had made me writhe and scream on his tongue, Luc’s hand fisted in my hair. The Butcher had fucked me on top of the Conqueror. My face burned. “I’m fine.”

Maire didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, she let it go. She held out her arm, revealing the slip of fabric she carried. “This is for you. It doesn’t cover much more than that cloak, but at least you won’t have to hold it up.”

I nodded. Getting dressed was a decent first step. I couldn’t do much clutching Jules’s cloak around me. I reached out, and Maire handed me the fabric.

Awkwardly, I maneuvered into the dress, keeping the cloak draped over my shoulders. When the black fabric finally covered most of my torso, I hesitated, then let the cloak fall aside. I fumbled with the top, twisting the fabric, trying to figure out what went where.

“Allow me.” Maire slowly approached, gaze on Titus. The hellwolf didn’t growl, but his eerie, shifting eyes stayed locked on her.

Maire moved carefully, finding two small metal loops in the fabric. She hooked one to the left side of my collar, then the right. The fabric draped in a deep V down my chest, pooling around my hips, leaving my back bare from my shoulders to the softness of my waist. I shook out my hair, letting my brown waves fall, covering as much skin as they could.

Wicked, sinful girl.

Fuck off, Deidre. I wasn’t fond of Azarasian fashion, but I couldn’t argue with wearing my hair loose.

“Thank you.” I turned away from Maire, my skin still crawling. I needed to think about something else. Anything else. I gestured at the final door off the entry lounge. “What’s in there?”

“The library. You can’t…”

Maire’s answer beyond library was a blur of words. I pushed open the door and forgot everything. Books. Thousands of them. Rows upon rows of gilded shelves stretched high into the grand room, easily twice the size of the bedchamber. Rolling ladders stood ready, waiting to be climbed, their gold fittings gleaming in the light pouring through a domed glass ceiling. The scent of aged parchment and leather filled the air, warm and familiar.

For a breath, I could almost pretend I was back in my shop. But Books & Bows had been small, cramped with uneven shelves and a bell that barely jingled. This place was towering, gilded, meant for the Imperium. It made my little shop feel like a closet.

I stepped inside, drawn forward by a power even greater than a vampire’s enchantment. Maybe my life wouldn’t be that terrible after all.

Maybe Titus had a point, taking the easy way.

Could life as a vampire fuck toy really be that terrible if I spent the rest of my hours reading ?