Page 24

“You did what now?” I stared at the kings, the heat in my cheeks searing throughout my face. They had felt me come? What in the hells did that mean? Like felt it, felt it or…

I didn’t know any other way to feel something, but surely they couldn’t mean what I thought they meant.

Somehow, the idea of the kings feeling my orgasm was worse than having one in front of them.

The King of Dusk remained a rock at my back, but he slowly traced a line along the inside of my arm. I tried to breathe, to calm my racing pulse. When he reached my wrist, his fingertip heated—

“This will sting.”

That was all the notice I had before Luc slid a shadow-edged claw through my soft flesh. Skin parted, blood welling instantly before it spilled down my arm. Pain shot through me. My instincts roared to life, screaming at me to run, to get away.

I wasn’t safe, not here, not ever.

But also… I was.

My mind rejected the thought, but my body melted into Luc’s, as if it trusted him. As if we were safe here.

I ignored it. My body didn’t know a starsdamned thing. It turned against me daily.

The throne’s shadows shackled my limbs. The kings’ hands buried into my skin. The covenant runespell claimed my lifeforce.

I was not safe.

But if the kings wanted to slice me to pieces, I couldn’t do anything about it.

Besides shouting, that is. “What the fuck—”

Daemium shadows lashed around my head, sealing over my lips. I let out a muffled scream, my voice smothered to nothing.

A second ago, they had looked at me with heat. Like I was something to be devoured. Now? That hunger had vanished.

Stupid. I had let myself forget who they were. What they were. Vampires were our masters, our captors. We would only ever be prey.

“Do you feel that?” Luc asked Jules, his focus entirely on his soulbound at our feet, like I wasn’t shaking against him, bleeding on his lap.

“Maybe?” Jules raised his right hand, the same one that had stroked between my legs. He sucked his glistening fingertip into his mouth, licking away the taste of my blood-tinged pleasure. His eyes fluttered shut like he was savoring it. A second later, a rune flared. Clean . It wiped the remaining sheen from his skin. “It’s too faint for me to tell, but it’s an easy enough hypothesis to test.”

Hypothesis? What hypothesis?

Then the King of Dawn shoved his finger into my open wound.

My vision went white. I shrieked into the gag, tears flooding my eyes. Just a couple minutes ago, the same move in a wildly different location had me moaning.

Now it was pure agony.

I had thought I knew pain. I was wrong.

Everything I had ever suffered was nothing compared to this. I jerked, but the shadows held me firm.

Jules pulled his finger out as fast as he shoved it in. His brows lifted. “I definitely felt that .”

“As did I, but it’s still muted.” Luc’s voice was clinical, distant. “Perhaps a weak empathy runespell that only affects physical sensation.”

A weak empathy runespell. On me.

No. No, that wasn’t possible.

My breath came short and sharp through my nose. Someone had cast magic on me? Someone besides the kings? The thought twisted deep in my gut.

When?

Who?

And, most importantly—why?

Had the runespell always been there? Had I lived my whole life under the influence of it without knowing? My mind raced, clawing at memories, but nothing stood out.

During the harvest? No, the magistrate had only drawn the amplification runes, and no other vampire had approached me besides the kings.

Before that? Was it my father? My stepmother? Impossible. They hated magic.

A random stranger I passed in the market, then? A brush of magic against my skin, unnoticed? The questions churned inside me, frantic, desperate. But the gag choked them all down.

With a wave of his hand, Luc took control of the blood streaming down my arm. It rose from my flesh, forming a languid swirl above us. I should have been horrified, but a sick part of me found it mesmerizing.

“How would that benefit anyone?” Jules asked.

“I don’t know yet.” Luc dissipated his shadowed claw and lifted my arm.

The gag muffled my gasp as his tongue flicked across the cut, sealing it with deliberate pressure. Jules leaned in, dragging his mouth over my elbow, swallowing every drop that escaped. Goosebumps raced over my skin.

Even after they had cut me open. Even after Jules had shoved his finger inside my wound.

Those were important distinctions, but my body didn’t care. If I wasn’t gagged, I might have sighed.

Luc released my arm a second later. Daemium shadows wrapped around my wrist and wrenched it back down.

Jules licked his lips and stood in one smooth motion. His desire was obvious, but with a roll of his shoulders, his body obeyed his command. “Fuck, she’s delicious. Think that’s part of the spell?”

“She tastes the same as she did last night. Before we bit her and…” Luc’s words faded, silver eyes going blank. A flicker of something crawled over his face, like he snatched for a thread, lost it, grabbed for it again. “Did you… Are you certain you fucked her last night?”

What were they talking about? Jules had slithered up my body, Luc had fisted a hand in my hair, their fangs had burrowed into my neck and then—

“Of course I did,” Jules scoffed, shaking his head. “What kind of question is that?”

His grin was quick, automatic. But his voice stumbled just a fraction on the last word. The playful curve of his mouth faded a breath too late. “We bit her. And then I…”

They glanced at each other. Then down at me.

Then, suddenly, as one, they stiffened.

“Fuck,” Jules breathed, letting out a low whistle. “The good ol’ lifeforce trap.”

Luc pinched the bridge of his nose. For once, he actually looked stressed. “It was a bloodborne runespell, then. It takes a lot of power to cast one of those. That might narrow it down, at least.”

What were they talking about? I tried to demand answers through the gag, but only muffled sounds escaped. Jules had fucked me last night. He had. I… I…

I didn’t remember it.

The hole in my memory gaped back at me. I had danced around it since waking, every attempt to focus slipping from my grasp. But now that the kings had noticed it, now that they had spoken it aloud, I couldn’t not notice it.

Something had crushed me.

That was the last thing I remembered. A weight too vast, too immense, pressing against my chest, stealing my breath, like I had been buried alive. Like I had been drowning in power.

And then I woke in their arms. Naked and sweat-stained, but there was no pain, no soreness. No explicit memory, only the vague certainty that we must have fucked. Because that was the only logical explanation.

But if Jules had fucked me last night, I’d have felt different. Changed. And I did, slightly. But the change was something deeper, something more elusive than flesh.

Luc rose to his feet. I slid down his body and hit the floor hard, my gown bunching around my waist. Pain throbbed in my knees, but I barely noticed it. I grasped blindly for my gown, desperate to cover myself, but the throne’s shadows snaked down my body. They winded around my wrists, binding me to the seat’s base.

Luc crossed the hall. He didn’t spare me a glance. Instead, he stopped beneath the floating swirls of crimson, silver gaze fixed and sharp.

“What do you do?” he murmured to my blood, barely audible. “And who would dare cast you?”

Was the Conqueror… was the Conqueror worried?

“Well, once you’ve figured that out, let me know who I need to kill.” Jules’s grin sharpened, but something about it was too casual, too forced. His gaze dropped to me, half-naked at his feet. “I hope it isn’t you, lovely. That would be such a shame.”

I flinched. But this time, I didn’t glare. Jules wasn’t joking. I didn’t know what kind of magic bound us together, but if they decided I was responsible, I would die at the Butcher’s hand.

I swallowed hard. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. This time, pleasure or confusion didn’t muddle my reaction. This time, it was all fear.

I forced myself to hold onto it. The Butcher didn’t make idle threats.

I didn’t even care if the stress of it dragged my illness from its orgasm-induced slumber. But nothing happened. No sudden cramps. No nausea crashing over me like a tide. Maybe it was chance, maybe it was their venom. I couldn’t tell. I had felt the cut, but that was sharp pain, a literal hole in my arm.

Without turning from my floating blood, Luc snapped his fingers toward the doors. A carved rune flared black. Open . The gilded double doors to the throne room parted on their own.

A distant drone of sound sharpened into voices. The Kings’ Council entered. I stiffened, shoulders slumping, instinctively trying to make myself small. Like that would hide the fact that I was half-naked, my breasts visible for all to see. They probably wouldn’t notice given nudity was a frequent occurrence around here, but that didn’t matter to me. Too many people had looked at me already.

I focused on breathing.

“If we send a Blade for her, another Tyrhari horde warlord will take her place within the week,” Sabas said, mid-argument with Isabeau at his side. “We know how Vigdis thinks, how she fights. It’s better to let her live. We can thwart any of her attempts on the Northern Wall.”

Isabeau frowned, her serious expression becoming even more so. “It’s been ten years since Luc and Jules last reinforced the protection runes.”

Sabas crossed his arms as Cédric entered behind them, settling at his soulbound’s side. “Then the answer is arranging a visit to the border, not sending a Blade.”

“Vigdis split her horde and is coordinating attacks on Kotara,” Cédric said. “We can’t defend that territory as easily. Perry said—”

“If Perry and Jessenia actually thought the horde could breach Kotara’s walls, they wouldn’t spend half their reports bitching about the dry heat,” Sabas said dismissively. “Vigdis is no more a threat to us than an Alvarese pirate.”

Names. Strategies. Places I didn’t know. The words blurred together. I knew the Butcher’s assassin force was called the Blades, but a Tyrhari horde? Kotara? I had no idea where they were, who they fought, or why any of it mattered.

Isabeau’s gaze flickered to the kings and I, the crease between her brow deepening as she took us in. “An Alvarese pirate nearly killed our kings once.”

“He tried to kill me,” Jules interjected, his grin nearly as bright as usual. “But I actually killed him. Important distinction.”

Luc’s voice cut through the conversation. “Vigdis Dauthrekkr will die on an Azarasian blade on the battlefield. Her body will decorate our walls until the hellcrows tear it apart.”

Isabeau paused, considering. “We haven’t made an example of someone in years.”

The Conqueror’s silver eyes glinted coldly again, but he couldn’t hide his concern. Did I know that because of the empathy bond? “It’s high time we do so again.”

Sabas’s gaze sharpened, finally tearing away from the debate long enough to take in the room. His dark eyes flicked from the kings to the blood spiraling above us.

Then, down to me.

“What’s happened?”

Jules dropped onto the throne and patted my head. It wasn’t a comforting touch, not after he’d just threatened to kill me. “We’re not sure yet.”

“What does that mean?” Isabeau asked.

The kings glanced at each other, coming to another one of their silent decisions, before Luc asked, “Cédric, what happened with the apartment’s wards?”

The Prince of Dawn faced the throne, straight-backed and serious. I hadn’t had the chance to study Jules’s brother for long. His hair was a darker blond than the Butcher’s, neatly trimmed over a handsome, composed face. They shared the same golden eyes, rimmed with just enough shadow to mark them as demonborn. While he resembled Jules, he seemed almost ordinary compared to the King of Dawn’s glittering, sharp beauty.

If I wasn’t gagged, I’d laugh at the idea of considering any vampire ordinary.

“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” Cédric said. “They’re intact and unaltered.”

Luc lowered his attention from my blood. “Then how was our Mortal Bride wandering the thrall quarters?”

A flicker of something crossed Cédric’s face. Hesitation. “I’m… not sure.”

Luc arched a brow. Incredulously, maybe, like Cédric had never not had an answer for him. His gaze swept over the council, weighing them in an instant, before turning to me. “How did you break through our wards, Miss Halloran?”

As Luc asked the question, the shadow gag withered from my mouth, though it remained close, a threat lingering at the edge of my vision. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. I had no idea when I’d be allowed to breathe freely again.

The kings and their council waited.

What was the right answer? Lying wouldn’t help. I didn’t know how I had walked through their wards or how this bond had happened. The wrong words would get me killed, but what if silence could, too?

“I walked, Your Majesty,” I said, keeping my voice level.

“Hmm.” The deep rumble was clearly skeptical. “And you also wouldn’t happen to know why we felt an echo of your pleasure and pain?”

Three pairs of eyes widened.

A sharp inhale. A step back. Sabas’s fingers curled into fists, while Cédric’s brow furrowed, calculating. Isabeau’s hand hovered over her sword hilt. No one spoke, but the shift in the air was unmistakable. Shock laced with something sharper. Fear, perhaps. Or worse—uncertainty.

My skin prickled with warning.

It was Sabas who spoke first. “You what ?”

Luc didn’t answer. His attention stayed on me. His silver eyes pinned me in place, the sheer authority in them making my breath stutter. Cold-eyed. Unshaken.

The Conqueror in full.

A tremor ran down my spine. I wrenched my stare away and ducked my head. I hated bowing before them, before anyone, but I wanted to live more. “I don’t, Your Majesty.”

Jules hummed and threaded a hand through my hair, twisting a loose strand around his finger. “That’s a comfort to hear, bride. Here I thought we’d have to travel to Mabon again this year.”

I didn’t reply. Didn’t flinch. I only just repressed a shudder at that gentle touch, so at odds with the threats to kill me. I will not cry. I will not scream. I will not let these monsters break me.

Sabas dragged a hand through his dark hair, looking one wrong answer away from tearing it out entirely. “What the fuck is happening?”

“We haven’t thoroughly tested it, but we felt her pleasure when she came and her pain when we cut her arm,” Luc explained, gesturing at my floating blood. “Both were faint sensations, but that could change with time.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Sabas said.

“We got hit by a bloodborne spell last night when we both fed from her,” Jules said matter-of-factly. “It knocked us out and made it hard to remember, as they’re oft to do.”

Cédric’s brow furrowed. "Most bloodborne runespells that do that and create empathy links are rather permanent."

Permanent . My stomach clenched.

“That’s assuming it’s a known spell.” At Luc’s silent command, the swirls of my blood stopped spinning and weaved between the council. “What do you sense in her blood?”

A pause.

No one answered right away. The vampires studied my blood, their gazes sharp, their silence heavy. Like I wasn’t even here. Like I was an object to be examined, a puzzle to be solved.

Except for Jules. It was entirely possible the Butcher was paying attention as he braided a thin strand of my hair. My fingers twitched, itching to slap his hand away. Did he play doll with all their brides or was I just unlucky?

I had to swallow the quip. The kings hadn’t reformed the gag, and there was no need to remind them of that.

“I don’t sense anything,” Cédric said after a minute. He glanced at Sabas, who nodded in agreement. “Only blood.”

“It’s the same for me,” Isabeau said.

Luc nodded once, like he had already expected that answer. “We all should be able to sense the covenant in her blood, as well as traces of this other spell. Which means she’s glamoured.”

Every eye snapped to me at once. I went rigid. Glamoured? I resisted the urge to touch my face. Did that mean I didn’t look like this? Or that everyone around me saw something different? I grasped at the memories, trying to remember exactly how glamours worked in The Soulborne Quee n.

Jules dropped my finished braid. “Egh, power glamours are the worst.”

“When was it cast?” Isabeau tapped her finger against the pommel of her belted sword. “You were with her the entire ride from Mabon?”

Luc nodded. “We didn’t let her out of our sight until we reached Dawnspear.”

The councilors all paused, visibly thinking through the problem.

Sabas raised a finger. “The Isauran delegation—”

Jules cut in smoothly. “The witches are bound. Even if they weren’t, Exalted Morrena isn’t powerful enough to cast a glamour that could fool us.”

“We can discuss who cast the spell later,” Luc said, waving the thought away. His attention returned to me. I lowered my eyes but not my face. The shadow of the Conqueror loomed in my periphery. “Its effects so far are a nuisance at best. I want to know what it really does. And to do that, I need the glamour off.”

A simple statement. A calm statement.

The council reacted like he had suggested feeding himself to a hellbeast.

“Luc—” Sabas started.

“I insist—” Isabeau spoke over him.

Cédric cut them both off with a sharp glance. Surprisingly, they fell silent. But as Crown Mage, magic was his area of expertise. “It’s a power glamour strong enough to trick you, created by someone with enough strength to cast a bloodborne spell on you. Who knows what else it’s hiding?”

A flicker of something crawled up my spine. What else was it hiding? What could possibly be worse than what had already happened to me? I resisted the urge to touch my skin, like I might feel something different beneath my fingertips.

Luc was unmoved. “I can feel its edges. It was designed to hide powerful magic, but nothing nearly as strong as the covenant. If removing it triggers anything, we’ll know.”

Cédric’s frown deepened. “I should still be the one to remove it.”

“Jules and I are more likely to counter any traps, and if not, survive them,” Luc said.

Isabeau scoffed. “You’re the Imperium. We can’t risk it. If we lose you, we lose the covenant, and we’ll be invaded from every direction. Not to mention from the Trost and the Marsanians inside the Impire itself.”

Jules snorted. “I think the worst part is that we’ll be dead, Issie, but sure, the Impire getting royally fucked is the bigger concern.”

Isabeau shot her King of Dawn a dry look. Jules only crossed his legs, twirling his foot in a circle.

“At least wait until after dusk,” Sabas muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Rude.” Jules glanced at Luc. “But not the worst idea. I don’t want to untangle a power glamour and that’s essentially a hobby of yours.”

The words sent another shiver through me. I didn’t mean to ask the question, but it slipped out before I could stop myself. “Untangling power glamours?”

The councilors turned their blank stares toward me. I resisted the urge to shy away. I was used to staying quiet and in the corner. I had for years. But after a week of the kings’ attention, I didn’t want to fade back into the wallpaper.

“Magic in general, more like,” Luc said. His stare was intense and callous like his councilors, but there was a warmth to it… no, a heat, simmering right below the surface.

A ripple passed through the council. And this time, their unease wasn’t directed at me. The way the kings treated me unnerved their councilors. Perhaps another element of this new spell?

But the kings thought it had activated last night, when they fed from me, transferred through my blood. They had always allowed me to speak my mind.

A soft knock sounded on the door.

Luc touched his inner wrist, which suddenly flickered with a shadow rune. Relay . The same rune he had used last night to communicate with his Imperial Guard. “Come in.”

Estrella slipped through the doorway and bowed low. "The Crown Chancellor has brought the Isauran delegation here to speak with you, Imperator."

Jules curled his lip. “Why?”

Luc didn’t glance at him. "We invited them."

Jules scoffed. "You and Roxiana invited them. I certainly did not."

Luc ignored his soulbound. “Send them in, Estrella.”

Sabas let out a low breath. “Is now the best time?”

Luc turned toward his throne. I shuffled quickly to the side. The King of Dusk would undoubtedly remove me from his path if I remained in it. “It’s excellent, actually. All the delegation witches can remove a fraying power glamour, and it’s no great loss if it costs one of them their life.”

No great loss. My stomach twisted, but I didn’t outwardly react.

“You’re going to release a witch?” Sabas asked incredulously. “What if they kill the Mortal Bride? What if the power glamour does when they remove it?”

“It won’t and neither will the witches.” Luc lowered himself into his throne like he was born to it. Which he was. “I’m more than capable of supervising without my full strength.”

“And I’m more than capable of killing a witch instantly if they step out of line,” Jules added.

With a single gesture from Estrella, the double doors swung open. In an instant, the council shifted, taking their positions along the throne’s flanks.

I was still bound at its base, my gown bunched around my waist. I tried to flick my hair over my shoulder to cover my breasts. I failed. Five demonbloods in the room while I was half-naked was already too many. Now, there would be more and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Roxiana sauntered through the open doors, her movements fluid grace. Behind her, the Isaurans walked with their heads bowed. Exalted Morrena led the six delegation witches, her cane tapping against the stone floor in steady, punctuated beats. The sound sent shivers down my spine.

When they reached the middle of the room, a respectable distance away, the witches stopped and lowered to their knees. Tristan followed them in, closing the doors with an echoing thud. A witch at the end of the line flinched.

The guards took up positions near the exit, forming an unspoken barrier. Roxiana continued until she reached Isabeau’s side next to Luc. She bowed to the kings, kissed her soulbound quickly, and then settled into her place.

“We’re honored, Imperium,” Morrena said, her voice smooth but low. Her delegation mirrored her movement behind her, bowing deeply.

“The Isaurans have agreed to all our terms,” Roxiana said.

I resisted a snort. The Isaurans might have been demonbloods, too, but if they were sending harvests, they had no power to refuse any of the Impire’s terms.

Luc inclined his head slightly. “Excellent. Which of your delegation is best at glamour removal?”

Roxiana’s brow furrowed. Her gaze flicked to Isabeau, who leaned in, whispering something low and urgent. The chancellor’s silver eyes flickered to me and widened.

Morrena straightened ever so slightly, but didn’t raise her head. “I am, Your Majesty.”

Luc didn’t hesitate. “Second best, then.”

The witch paused, a flicker of something crossing her face. Annoyance? No. Frustration. She hesitated only a breath before asking, “May I ask why, Your Majesty?”

There was a beat of silence. The witches all seemed to hold their breaths, waiting to see if they’d be punished for Morrena’s question.

But the kings had bigger concerns. “It seems our new Mortal Bride came with her own runespells,” Luc said. “And one of them is a power glamour.”

Morrena exhaled through her nose. “I see. I can—”

“You can’t,” Luc cut her off smoothly. “You’re one of the Exalted Daughters of Isaura. You’re more useful alive.”

For a split second, something flashed in her expression. Annoyance again. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Morrena nodded stiffly. “In that case…” She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping down the line of witches. “Edda?”

None of the witches reacted. Then, a second later, a blonde witch rose to her feet and stepped forward. She looked twice Morrena’s age—at least, physically. Which meant she was likely centuries old. “Of course, Exalted Daughter.”

But she didn’t move immediately. Her eyes flickered to Luc, then Jules, then me. She visibly swallowed. “I’ll need to touch her.”

My pulse stuttered. My mouth went dry. Why did I suddenly feel like the subject of an experiment?

The shadows at my wrists uncoiled, releasing me. I exhaled slowly. As calmly as I could manage, I straightened my gown and hooked the top of it into my collar.

Luc flicked a hand toward the witch. “On you go, bride.”

I stood. I had no choice but to obey. No choice but to move. Every eye in the room tracked me as I stepped forward. No one was speaking. Even Jules wasn’t making a quip.

Was it really that dangerous to remove a hidden power glamour? What would happen when it was removed?

Was I going to die?

I forced my breathing to stay even. Forced my steps to be steady. My pleasure still dampened my inner thighs, but I kept my head held high.

I would not cower.

“You may use your magic to remove the glamour from our bride, nothing more,” Luc said, a clear warning in his tone. Disobedience would mean death for the witch.

Edda nodded once. As the suppression rune on her collar dimmed, the air around her warmed. Luc had released her magic. She stepped closer and settled her hands lightly on my shoulders. My muscles tensed on instinct, like I could rip my arm back before she touched me. But there was nowhere to go. No way to refuse.

The witch closed her eyes in concentration. Her fingers started drawing runes against my skin, the heat from the spell rising. It sunk deeper and deeper into me.

I braced, but nothing happened.

This wasn’t so bad. From the way the vampires talked about the removal, I had expected—

My world erupted into agony.

The kind that seared through every nerve ending, that shattered thought and reason. Worse than the cramps of my illness. Worse than Jules shoving a finger into my arm. I didn’t even scream.

I couldn’t.

My limbs went slack, but I didn’t hit the floor. Edda held me upright, her grip unyielding. A thousand hands clawed at my skin, raking over my bones.

They weren’t just peeling something off me.

They were peeling me apart.

The first layer ripped away easily, but the second wasn’t just on me. It was in me, woven into my very flesh.

I had never noticed it before, but now that someone tugged on it, I knew. It was as essential to me as my own heart. I tried to push those hands away mentally, but I wasn’t a witch. I might be able to read runes, but I had no power. Nothing happened beyond my soul splitting apart, my very existence unraveling—

Edda jerked violently.

The movement reverberated through her arms and into mine. I blinked back to reality right as her chest pulsed like something exploded within her. Blood gushed from her nose, her mouth, her ears. Like someone had reached inside her and yanked every drop from her veins. It splattered across my cheeks.

The light left her eyes.

She collapsed to the ground.

Completely and entirely dead.