Page 37

Shadows enveloped my skin as I followed Luc through a runegate into the heart of Montaurère. My slippered feet pressed into polished limestone, a stark contrast from the soft rugs of the kings’ apartment. A rush of brightness blurred my vision. I blinked hard, stepping to Luc’s side, disoriented by the shift in light.

My stomach clenched like a thread pulled taut. Not nausea. Not quite. But something close. Luc’s palm settled against the small of my back. My body started to relax before I even noticed, but the moment I did, I stiffened.

Luc didn’t acknowledge it. He only let his hand linger, like it belonged there.

Around me, the city stirred. Voices melded together in a pleasant hum, blending with the distant clatter of wheels over stone, the rhythmic footsteps of a waking city.

When my vision cleared, I inhaled sharply.

The runegate exited into a bustling square. The daemium surface was embedded in the base of a grand statue, a stern-looking vampire warrior frozen in stone. Gilded buildings of pale stone gleamed beneath the morning light, so pristine they nearly hurt my eyes. Flashes of color broke the endless white—burgundy awnings shading storefronts, scarlet gowns draped in window displays, maroon shutters over wrought-iron balconies. Manicured greenery softened the stark perfection, placed at careful intervals.

All around us, vampires moved through the square and the winding streets criss-crossing the mountainside with effortless grace. Draped in silks and embroidered brocades, they were as unbothered by their Imperium’s arrival as the High Courts had been last night. Collared thralls in black followed their masters with bowed heads.

“That’s exactly how I looked the first time I saw Montaurère.” Jules stepped from the runegate behind us. He draped an arm around my shoulders, hard muscle encased in silk.

I snapped my jaw shut.

Luc hadn’t moved his hand from my back. Now they were both touching me, one a lingering weight at the base of my spine and the other wrapped lazily across my shoulders.

My heart nearly imploded.

Jules’s waist-length cape brushed against my back as we started forward. The crimson silk was embroidered with golden thread, gems glittering along the seams. On top of his usual rings, heavy teardrop earrings, and gilded daggers, strung rubies encircled his wrists and a golden bar pierced the rim of his ear, capped with tiny pearls.

The King of Dawn was as ostentatious as his city.

And just like his city, he was the preface to death.

A twinge shot through my belly, neither sharp nor dull. Stars. Not now. Was Luc’s new soothing rune wearing off already? I exhaled through my nose, slow and steady.

This was nothing more than a walk through a city out of a storybook, accompanied by two gorgeous vampires who had never, ever harmed a soul. I was here of my own will. My body was not on the verge of panic. My insides weren’t unraveling.

What would I say if that fiction were true? If I weren’t heading toward an execution on the arms of the Imperium? If the men on either side of me were simply showing me their beautiful city?

“Were you not raised here?” I asked, forcing my voice steady.

There was too long a pause between Jules’s comment and my reply, but he ignored the awkward silence. “Luc and I were born in Tenebra de Mar and spent our first half-century there. Azaras was one kingdom in name only then, our two halves ruled by opposing regents left in charge by the Beast King. There wasn’t much travel between the cities.”

I glanced at Luc on my other side, the dark violet of his doublet resplendent in the sunshine. He had strapped his axe to his back. It was the first time I had seen the terrifying weapon since we arrived in the city. “Even for their king’s son?”

“Maybe if I were only Azaras’s son,” Luc said. “But I was also Marisol’s grandson, so Alphonse never sent a formal invitation.”

Alphonse must have been Montaurère’s former regent. He wasn’t in The Soulborne Queen like Marisol. “So you just showed up?”

A small smirk curved the King of Dusk’s lips. “With a retinue of intoxicated courtiers and thralls, not a warrior in sight. I grew tired of the insult and thought to deliver one right back.”

“Luc demanded entry at the gate,” Jules said. “Alphonse took one look at him, decided he didn’t want to die, and treated us like treasured, expected guests.” He released a wistful sigh. “Ah, the good old days. I can’t shock anyone with my power like that anymore. The one downside to having a reputation. Rue the day you have one.”

“Me?” I nearly squealed. No. I wouldn’t ever have a reputation. Not like the Conqueror and the Butcher.

The Bookworm didn’t quite have the same ring.

“Who else?” Jules asked, waving at the empty space around. Estrella and Tristan followed distantly behind. “It’s just you, me and Luc, lovely.”

I shot him an exasperated glare. Like I needed the reminder. All the passing vampires bowed low, murmuring Imperium , but none approached. One or two pairs had started to approach, only to flare their nostrils and not dare any closer.

I didn’t even need to ask why. The emerald gown I wore was a similar cut to the white one from the harvest feast, but the slits up the front and back were higher, almost to my navel. With every step, the layered fabric parted. Not enough for anyone to see anything, but enough for air to brush against my stained thighs. It was a constant reminder to everyone—including me—that I was scent-marked.

Riona had snuck me a towel, but she hadn’t dared put any water on it. I had merely rubbed my sweat and slick and the kings’ cum into my skin. I didn’t know why I bothered. The Azarasians clearly still smelled the kings on me.

I’d be lucky to end up the Bookworm. Right now, I was the Conqueror and Butcher’s Whore. “Whatever my reputation, I’m sure it will pale in comparison to yours.”

“Maybe,” Jules said. “But maybe not. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

I aimed a frown at Jules, but the King of Dawn only winked at me. I twisted away, facing forward.

We approached another square, where Azarasians lounged on stone benches and vendors called out from painted carts of carved wood, hawking sweet treats and sizzling meats. I let my gaze wander. The people. The buildings. The colors, the clothes. I drank in the foreign sights—

My gaze landed on a massive falling star carved into white stone.

Nausea welled in my gut. Out of all things I’d expected to see in the vampire capital, a church wasn’t one of them. Maire wore a pendant with the falling star and had mentioned thralls who worshipped all demonbloods as gods, but I never thought they’d have a church in the city’s center.

The star burned into me. I shriveled under its eyes. Even though it was falling instead of rising, I was back in the Corraidin church before the godstar murals. Kneeling for hours as Patriarch Meallán droned on, while my stepmother and sister prayed fervently beside me.

And now I stood before the star stained with vampire cum.

A sinner, come before the godstars’s light to be judged.

How could I have ever contemplated going home? I barely tolerated walking past a church. No one had ever returned to Corraidin after becoming a thrall, but if they had, I could easily imagine the reception they’d receive.

I was now broken, marred, and used . I would be shamed out of town.

My insides twisted, a hard wrench.

The kings’ hands tensed on me. I jolted, giving my head a sharp shake. I should have pulled away from their touches, but the soulbond didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary. If anything, my wiggle of anxiety eased when the kings tucked me tighter between them.

Breathe, Nessa. I meant the words to be in my voice, but it was Luc’s that whispered through me. The pounding need that thudded through the bond like a constant drumbeat since I woke became all that harder to ignore. The memory of his hand around my throat as Jules rocked deeper and deeper into me filled my mind with alarming clarity—

“Nessa?”

My hands clenched together at my sides, anything to distract from the beat between my legs. “I’m fine.”

For a second, the kings just watched me, seeing right through the indifference I wore. Then their expressions were gone, hidden under the Conqueror’s impassive stare and the Butcher’s playful grin.

For once, the kings wouldn’t question me.

Perhaps because we had an audience.

Beneath my feet, veins of black daemium split through the pale limestone slabs as we entered the square. A small crowd of vampires gathered around a dark, smoking stage carved with runes. Imprison. Shield. Endure . In the center, two vampires were bound to a post with shadows, one a dark-haired, pale-skinned male and the other a brunette with a golden-brown tan. They looked vaguely familiar, but I hadn’t paid much attention to yesterday’s court session.

When their verdict was announced.

When their execution was announced.

I swallowed.

I couldn’t pretend anymore. Today I’d watch even more people die.

As we approached the stage, the murmurs of the crowd faltered, the air thickening with anticipation. Vampires backed away and bowed, parting for their Imperium. I scanned the gathered vampires, looking for the executioner. Surely there was one. We didn’t have the role in Mabon, as the magistrates were more than happy to handle any criminals. But it had been a position in the Beast King’s time.

No one seemed to have any weapons.

Beyond the axe at Luc’s back and the daggers at Jules’s hips.

My throat went dry. “You’re going on that stage, aren’t you?”

The kings’ gazes met over my head. “ We’re going on that stage,” Luc corrected. “Our decision condemned them so it’s only right we take their life, whether on their knees or their feet, weapon in hand.”

“Wait, you’re going to fight them?”

Luc ascended the stairs in a measured stride, his polished boots clicking against the daemium. The entire square sank into silence without a command from the Conqueror. “If they choose it.”

“Most choose it,” Jules added. “Those two certainly will. Not that it will be much of a fight.”

The two prisoners stiffened at Jules’s words as the crowd tittered. Their privacy runespell had likely muted most of our conversation, but everyone heard that last bit.

Jules stood aside for me to take the stairs before him. At the base, Estrella and Tristan settled into their places, standing guard. They didn’t follow, their only duty to ensure no one else did either.

“Then why bother?”

“All citizens of the Azarasian Impire have the right to challenge us,” Luc said, offering me a hand as I reached the top. “It’s been centuries since anyone not slated for death has done so, but sentenced criminals have little left to lose.”

Dozens of eyes tracked our every move, from Luc’s fingers laced with mine to Jules slipping behind me. All I could focus on were the kings. “Do they have to fight both of you?”

“Usually Luc and I flip for it, but I’m oddly not in the mood for murder.” Jules wrapped his arm around my shoulders again. “You can have them, Lucey.”

“But it’s daylight,” I said, unsure why I was arguing. I couldn’t be worried for the Conqueror. “He doesn’t have all his power. That Dawn vampire does—”

“That Dawn vampire does not.” Luc released my hand and unholstered his axe, shadows rising from the polished daemium of the blade. “When our citizens swear the allegiance runespell to the Impire, we don’t demand their life like the Isaurans do. They join the covenant spell, gaining power and protection as long as they remain loyal. But if they break their oaths, they must return the strength we gave them.”

The shadows holding the two prisoners dissipated into smoke. The dark-haired male with golden eyes remained standing, but his silver-eyed soulbound staggered forward. If I thought Sabas appeared tired, these two looked nearly human in their exhaustion. Not even their immortal beauty could counter the dull pallor of their skin and the dark circles around their eyes.

On the inner part of their forearm, runes blared with shadows. Oath. Loyalty. Union. Transfer. Dusk. Dawn. Retribute. It was in the same spot as Morrena’s, but theirs looked freshly burned into the skin. Angry and raw. The retribution rune exacting its punishment.

“Then won’t they die anyway?” I asked slowly. “Vampires need power to survive, right? You could simply wait for them to die.”

Jules brushed his thumb along my skin, eliciting a shudder down my spine. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s death,” I said. “It’s not meant to be fun.”

“There’s not a bloodthirsty cell in your body, is there?”

I glanced away. “That’s not entirely true.”

I had imagined my stepmother dead. Una. The magistrates. Donal, once or twice. Patriarch Meallán far more than that. Only in comparison to the kings did I look like a saint.

Jules turned his head, his lips against my ear. “Our cum doesn’t count.”

Blood burned through my face.

Luc stepped forward with his axe before him, the curved edge of the blade pointing between the two prisoners. “Mateo Herrera and Théodore Fontaine, you have been found guilty of treason against the Azarasian Impire. For the last seven years, you have worked with the anarchists to defy our nation, culminating in the deaths of six vampires and the destruction of the Dufresne Abattoir and its three thousand thralls.

“For these crimes, we have sentenced you to death.” His deep voice was a crack of thunder through the square. “As is your right, if you disagree with our verdict, you may challenge us to combat, soulbond to soulbond.”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me?” I whispered to Jules.

“To challenge one part of a soulbond is to challenge a soulbond in its whole,” he said. “But the two of us only need to stand here, lovely. Luc will do all the work.”

“Why bring me at all?”

“If we didn’t, we’d be the ones breaking our allegiance runespell,” Jules said. “I like being alive, so that’s not an option.”

The Dawn vampire, Mateo, lumbered forward, rage and hatred clear on his face. I had glared at Luc and Jules a dozen times over the last week, but at least I could blame the awakening soulbond spell for my bold insanity. These vampires had no such excuse.

Excluding their inevitable death at the kings’ hands.

“Fuck you and your verdict.” Mateo spat at Luc’s feet, but his hands clenched at his sides, shaking. His fingers curled, then uncurled, like he was debating lunging now.

Before the kings could cut him down like a human.

Luc didn’t react. He stared, the unflinching face of Death, of the Conqueror King. Mateo took the smallest step back toward his soulbond before clenching his fist tight and standing his ground.

But it was too late for that.

A smirk cracked the ice. “So be it.”

I shuddered at the darkness in those words, in his expression. It was a movement echoed by every living creature in the square. But where terror rushed through them, intoxicating need flowed through me. I clenched my thighs together, forcing out an exhale. The swirl of stress, shame, and desire pressed against my ribs like a vise. It was like my body wanted to revolt.

A crack split the air as Luc rammed his axe into the ground. Shadows writhed where his daemium blade cut into the stage. If I thought it had been quiet before, it was nothing compared to now. Half the audience had stopped breathing, the prisoners among them.

Luc slowly walked around his axe and rolled his left sleeve to his elbow, followed by his right. The precise, methodical movements of a man utterly unconcerned.

“What’s happening?”

Jules grinned down at me. “Lucey’s pissed.”

“Pick up your axe, bastard,” Mateo snarled, but a tremor laced his voice. “We choose combat.”

“I’m aware.” Luc stretched out his hand as he approached, the confident gait of a predator. His voice lowered. “But you’re not worthy of dying on my blade.”

The tips of his fingers blackened, sharpened, turning into terrifying claws of shadow. The darkness covered his knuckles like armor. I expected him to flash forward and tear into the vampire, but all he did was clench his fists.

A string of pain surged through my hand as Luc cut into his own flesh. Why—?

His blood wet tiny runes carved into his silver rings. Shadows flared. Fuse. Sharpen. Break. The metal twisted and merged, thickening at the top. The smooth silver sharpened into sharp points.

My stomach rolled. Fuck. Those weren’t rings. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

They were weapons. Metal knuckles made to inflict pain and nothing else.

A sharp lance of discomfort curled through my belly. I almost hunched, arms curling around my stomach. Jules’s wide grin faded slightly. He turned, his arm still over my shoulder, and pressed a finger against the faded soothing rune on my arm. Soothe . Heat pulsed through my chest, chasing away the discomfort.

All the physical discomfort, at least.

The prisoners stretched their fingers, summoning shadow claws that barely extended past their knuckles. Compared to Luc’s, they were pathetic. A vampire’s fangs and claws were a gift of biology from their demon ancestry, but the same power that fueled their magic fueled their strength. And these two had none.

Stars, I wished I could look at this clinically, analyzing it as if it were just another passage in a book. The bits and pieces of knowledge I had cobbled together finally took a shape that made sense.

But I couldn’t.

Luc planned to beat these vampires to death.

He stopped a couple feet away and crooked his claws, summoning the traitors to their end.

Mateo snarled and charged.

I flinched at the speed of him, the flash of movement blurring in my vision. He swiped for Luc’s throat with shadowed claws. He might have landed the hit if Luc hadn’t shifted to the side. Not dodging, but stepping, just enough that Mateo brushed the fabric of his doublet.

A flicker of hope flashed in the vampire’s golden eyes.

But there wasn’t a trace of fear in the Conqueror King.

His fist collided with Mateo’s face.

His silver-ringed knuckles cracked bone on impact. Blood burst across the stage, splattering the King of Dusk’s bronze skin. The crowd cheered and hollered as Mateo’s skull caved in under the pressure. Blood and brain leaked down his chin. I tried to scramble back, but Jules held me still.

Chunky crimson droplets rained across my face.

I slapped my hand across my mouth. Jules’s finger on my arms changed from an aimless circle to another shape I recognized well now. Settle . My nausea faded as quickly as it reared its head.

When Luc pulled back, the vampire dropped. His head—what remained of it—splattered against the ground, little more than a mess of blood and brain matter.

Tears streamed down my face. Fuck, that was nasty. I did not want to see mashed vampire bits. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from the gore.

A strangled scream split the silence.

Théodore, the Dusk vampire. His soulbound twitched at Luc’s feet, dying, choking, still aware. Luc stepped over the twitching corpse just as the brunette launched himself forward with the last bit of strength he had.

He swiped at Luc, a clumsy strike that might have split a human in two. Luc dodged it with ease. With boredom, even.

Luc tilted his head. “Try again.”

Théodore bared his fangs, his breathing ragged. His hands twitched at his sides, but his power was gone, drained.

He knew it.

Luc knew it.

But Luc wanted him to try anyway.

He snarled and swung wildly. Luc dodged with almost lazy precision. Once. Twice. Again.

“Pathetic,” Luc muttered.

Then he struck.

His claws sank into Théodore’s throat, wrapping around his spine. The vampire choked. His fingers clawed uselessly at Luc’s wrist, grasping, grasping—

Luc sighed. Then tore his spine free.

Théodore’s body lurched, back arching, mouth gaping in a silent scream. His spine tore through the soft flesh of his throat, vertebrae snapping, ligaments stretching until they severed.

His limbs stopped moving.

But he could still scream. A horrible garbled noise rasped in his throat.

Luc clenched his fist, a wet squeeze. A pulse of heat rippled through the square as shadows crawled his arm, twisting and twining through that broken body like dark vines. Midday, in the bright sun, his reduced power burned hotter than most of the Dawn vampires in the square.

When he released his fist, the tendrils of shadow tore Théodore to bits.

The screams cut off.

Silence, for just a beat.

Then the crowd erupted.

Azarasians whooped and hollered, their cheers swelling around us. The air vibrated with triumph, with the thrill of violence well executed. Luc had ended it in under a minute, and the vampires reveled in him, in their terrible Conqueror King.

At our feet, the daemium stage soaked up the blood, gobbling it down like soil after a drought. But the scent still clung to the air, thick and metallic, worming its way into my throat.

Stars, that was disgusting.

I swallowed hard, blinking away the sting in my eyes. I really wanted to puke. Instead, I turned away. Fuck it if it made me a coward. I did not need to see this.

But in the corner of my vision, Mateo continued to twitch.

I shut my eyes. “Why isn’t he dead?”

“Only heartmates die instantly when their soulbound dies,” Jules said nonchalantly. “Companions can survive a few hours, though they turn rather feral.”

Luc turned, glancing down at the broken thing on the stage. The Dawn vampire’s face hadn’t healed much, but the ragged flesh of his skull twitched, reforming. With a smooth wave of his hand, daemium spikes speared from the stage. They impaled Mateo through the chest, arms, legs, throat. His body finally stilled.

The crowd roared louder.

I breathed slowly through my nose, then out through my mouth. Minutes ago, I had basked in the city’s beauty. The white stone buildings were as bright, gilded, and divinely stunning as the vampires who inhabited them.

But the wonder and awe only hid the truth. This was a home to monsters, as brutal as they were beautiful. They were the beasts who owned me, who had owned me and every human I had ever known.

And no matter how much blood their kings spilled, how many bodies fell at their feet, they would own me forever.