Page 58

I followed Luc in silence through the halls of Dawnspear, the leash between us glinting in the sunlight every time we passed a window. I glared at the chain the entire way. I hadn’t seen any other thrall on a leash since arriving in the city. Vampires didn’t need physical restraints to keep their thralls in control.

This was just the first part of my punishment.

It was probably the best part of my punishment, too. We were walking toward my fucking trial .

I shouldn’t have expected anything less. I had tried to leave. Even if I wasn’t their soulbound, I was their Mortal Bride. I had endangered more than their lives—I’d risked their covenant runespell, the backbone of the Impire. It didn’t matter that I was the covenant.

In minutes, hundreds of judging vampire eyes would be on me. Their thralls might not be allowed to look up, but they’d be there too. Probably by order. We hadn’t passed a single human or witch in the hallway. Whatever happened to us would serve as a warning.

There weren’t even any courtiers roaming the hallways. The only other living beings I saw were the two male Imperial Guard walking behind me. One was dark-skinned with golden eyes, the other auburn-haired with silver. I’d seen them last night, but I still didn’t know their names.

I tried not to look at them. It was my fault Estrella and Tristan weren’t a step behind us.

So many people were dead because of me. They weighed on my shoulders, keeping my head ducked and my eyes lowered. If I wasn’t wearing a soothing rune, the stress would have incited my pain into a wildfire.

I didn’t even glance upward when dark boots with ruby-encrusted gold buckles entered my line of vision.

“Anything?” Luc asked.

“Nope,” Jules said, popping the word like he wasn’t mildly annoyed. “None of them have any idea who cast the bloodborne soulbond and sent us our bride.”

Luc hummed, thoughtful. He didn’t bother questioning Jules. Everyone broke under the Butcher’s steady hands. If I hadn’t yelled my every thought at him yesterday, he would’ve continued calmly snapping fingers one at a time until both my hands were broken.

And likely beyond that. He could just heal them immediately and start again.

There was no choice but to break. No choice but to surrender. No choice but to fail.

Jules bumped a knuckle beneath my chin. I jolted at the touch. If we weren’t soulbound, I’d have fully recoiled. He tilted my head up until I met his eyes. “But they had quite a lot to scream about, like how you invited them in and deactivated their thrall runes.”

The warmth of his skin pulsed into me. Every instinct screamed to close my eyes and sink into him. I forced my spine to stay rigid. “What did you expect? You broke three of my fingers.”

Jules smiled . “I don’t even consider that torture.”

I glared, the words echoing Luc almost exactly. “Then why did you have to… hollow yourself out, or whatever it is you did to repress your feelings?”

Jules dropped his hand, his small grin unchanged. But something was buried underneath it, almost like guilt. “It’s a weakened version of Grandpa Thaddeus’s godcurse. Comes in handy at times.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I know.”

Jules unclasped a gold chain bracelet dotted with rubies and pearls that started at his wrist and coiled all the way to his elbow. He unwrapped it, looping the chain around and around until…

Until it became a leash to match Luc’s.

My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. For one brief second, my anger flared hotter than despair—bright, searing, and utterly useless.

Jules latched the end of his leash to the front of my collar. “Such rage, witch. It nearly tickles.”

“Fuck—”

Luc tugged. I stumbled forward, straight into Jules. My hands landed on the soft silk of his embroidered tunic. Into the strength of his chest. The chest that had glided along my back last night as he fucked me—

I gave a sharp shake of my head. But it was too late. The King of Dawn inhaled deeply. His lips twitched, his smile growing. I tensed for him to say something, to make some sort of lewd comment.

He only bopped a finger against my nose and turned away.

“Sabas rounded up the witches and got them to the throne room,” Jules said to Luc. “Rox herded our favorite courtiers in a while ago. They’re just waiting on us now.”

Luc nodded and started forward, Jules falling into step at his side. They moved too quietly, each step a silent warning. The leash stayed taut between us as I followed, skin crawling with unease. If I fell behind or stumbled, they’d drag me the rest of the way, no question.

I didn’t have to keep pace for long.

We turned a corner, and the gilded doors to the throne room came into view, Sabas and Roxiana mid-argument at their side. They both snapped their jaws shut the moment the kings appeared.

Luc’s tone remained calm, but something sharpened beneath it. “Is there a problem?”

Sabas’s gaze flickered to me. “Are you going to glamour her? If anyone focuses, they’ll sense a flicker of her power.”

“They’ll find out eventually,” Luc said calmly.

“And when they do, there will be challenges,” Roxiana said. “Not many, but a few.”

Jules snorted. “We can deal with challengers, Rox. Could be fun, actually.”

Roxiana didn’t rise to the bait. “Even so, the Isaurans rising against us isn’t something we can brush off. Announce your new soulbond when we’re sure the first threat has passed.”

Jules glanced at Luc, his brows raised. The King of Dusk studied his Crown Enforcer and Crown Chancellor for a moment longer. Neither he nor Jules were concerned at the idea of a challenge, but they weighed their councilor’s words all the same.

“My mother thought nothing could kill her.” Roxiana’s voice didn’t crack, but it dipped low with quiet weight. Resentment, maybe. Her relationship with Marisol seemed as fraught as her nephew’s. “Her arrogance cost us hundreds of lives, hers included.”

A flicker of annoyance twisted through Luc. His jaw clenched. He didn’t like being compared to the former regent. “Very well.”

Jules looped his leash around his wrist, reversing the motion from moments ago. This time, I was still clipped to the end. I had no choice but to step forward, again and again, until my shoulder brushed his.

He held out his hand, palm up, and wiggled his fingers.

Nausea twisted in my gut. The last time I’d placed my hand in Jules’s, he’d broken my fingers.

I couldn’t get past that. I shouldn’t have had to. But I would. I had to. Survival demanded it.

Do it, Nessa. My hand trembled as I reached for his, then forced my palm into his with a slap that echoed louder than it should have.

“Angry and aggressive.” Jules held my gaze as he traced a rune over my knuckles. Shadows curled between his fingers, though thankfully they didn’t turn into solid claws. “A personal favorite of mine.”

I narrowed my eyes at him—and at my side, Luc arched a brow. But it was enough of a reaction for Jules, who winked at Luc over my head.

Glamour .

Heat tickled over my skin in a quick wave as Jules’s rune activated. I didn’t feel any different, but Sabas’s shoulders eased slightly. Like the fear of instant mutiny upon opening the doors had passed.

Roxiana only nodded, then traced a quick symbol in the air. Open . The throne room’s double doors slid open.

Two dozen vampire courtiers mingled across the wide expanse of marble floor before the daemium throne, like this was a private party instead of a trial.

Knowing vampires, it was somehow both.

Unlike the last time I was here, over twenty twisting gold sculptures lined the walls. Each one held a frozen figure of a bound witch, posed in unnatural stillness. They were twisted into all kinds of positions—dancing and leaping, some reaching out, some recoiling. Every head was tilted to the side, exposing their throats in a way that made my stomach turn.

Art and a meal, all in one.

A vampire approached one of the captive witches, their fangs extending in a flare of shadows. The witch couldn’t flinch, frozen stiff as the predator approached.

The vampire fisted a hand in the witch’s hair and sank their fangs into her neck. The witch jerked—and not in pleasure. As the vampire swallowed, their face contorted in pain. Their mouth opened, releasing a soundless scream.

Those witches hadn’t tried to run with us. Maybe they hadn’t even known what their delegation had planned. Would the kings kill them all for the acts of a few? Or was the bite of agony the only punishment they’d suffer?

I hoped so.

I feared not.

If not for the leash, I might’ve stopped cold. Exhaustion and fear weighed down my body, but the chain jerked tight as the kings stepped forward, hauling me into the spectacle whether I wanted it or not.

Sabas and Roxiana had let them pass first, but the Crown Chancellor stepped to the side. She didn’t use a rune this time to project her voice. “Their Majesties Lucero Azaras and Julien Roche, Kings of Dusk and Dawn, Imperators of the Blood Legion, and Imperium of the Azarasians.”

The courtiers scattered from the center of the room in a blink, dropping into bows with heads lowered. Along the room’s edges, thralls dressed in solid black sank to their knees.

Left exposed at the center of the marble floor, just before the throne, kneeled the remaining witches from the delegation. They wore collars again, but this time, shadowy tendrils traced up their necks like veins, forming muzzles across their mouths.

Morrena’s face was raised and defiant, but her delegation hadn’t fared as well in the torture. Ilenia wept, scratching at her arm like she could still feel whatever the Butcher had done to her. Eral stared blankly at the floor, his eyes vacant. The other two—I still didn’t know their names—seemed caught somewhere between hysterics and numbness.

I didn’t have time to gape. Luc and Jules crossed the floor for their thrones, and I scurried behind them. No one looked at the kings, but more than one pair of bright eyes flicked to me.

Full of disdain.

Full of hatred.

Full of… glee?

The Azarasians expected a show. Their kings would certainly deliver.

I whipped my head forward, trying to focus. Already, my breath came faster, short and shallow. There were too many eyes gliding over my too-bare skin, judging, savoring, waiting for me to break—

I hated it here.

When we passed the kneeling witches, the kings stopped in front of me. Sabas and Roxiana continued forward, taking their places beside their soulbound before the throne.

Luc turned. No, the Conqueror turned. He stared down at me, not a flicker of emotion in his lips, his eyes, his brows. Before the soulbond, I’d have thought him cold in a moment like this, but a tangle of emotions burned in his chest. Rage, worry, and a flicker of… regret?

It couldn’t be. The Conqueror didn’t regret.

He stopped an inch away, a towering mass of strength and power, impossibly large and enthrallingly beautiful. An obedient thrall would’ve dropped to her knees at the sight. But I locked my legs, refusing, even though every bone in my body ached to sit.

Luc unhooked Jules’s leash, then his own. He traced his thumbs across my lips, a mockery of tenderness. “Kneel.”

Every muscle within me stiffened. My gaze flickered to Jules, but the King of Dawn remained silent for once. That smile he always wore lingered, but something darker glinted behind his eyes. The guilt and regret Luc felt echoed through the bond, but it didn’t smother the part of me that wanted her on her knees. That ached to see her yield. I wanted her to disobey almost as much as I wanted her to obey. Both made her burn with a fire I longed to let consume me —

I shuddered back into myself. “Luc, I—”

“Your Majesty.”

“What?”

“When my head, hand, or cock is between your legs, you may call me Luc. When you’re on trial, I’m your king. Do not mistake the two.” He stepped back and clasped his hands behind him. “Kneel, bride.”

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms.

“Are you disobeying my direct order?”

My palms slicked with sweat at the edge in his tone. It took everything in me not to collapse, not to fold under the attention of the monster looming above me.

Well, almost everything. My nipples were hard as rocks. And I couldn’t blame the soulbond, still sated inside me.

Breath ghosted the back of my neck. Jules had circled to stand behind me. “You really should kneel, lovely.”

I swallowed… and ever so slowly sank to my knees. Nausea churned in my gut, angry tears prickling at my eyes. But this was only going to get worse. I couldn’t stop it. I’d risked everything and lost it all. Preserving my dignity wasn’t worth my defiance.

I’d need it later, for something that actually mattered.

The kings stared down at me. The itch under my skin intensified as I kneeled before them. Rising desire. Hungry. Heavy. Hot. Of course they liked this. Of course kneeling thrilled them. Especially when I loathed every second of it.

And yet, my pulse stuttered. My thighs pressed tighter together.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I glared forward, not at them, but not at the floor either.

After a long moment of silence, the kings moved as one. Luc turned on his heel and walked to their throne. When Jules passed me, he drifted a hand through my hair, almost like a caress. I resisted the shiver that prickled up my spine at the brush of his fingertips.

When they reached the daemium seat, Luc sat on the left, straight-backed and regal, while Jules lounged on the right, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles before him. The last time I had kneeled before the kings at their throne, éamon had died. This time, five witches kneeled at my side, and this trial would end with their deaths.

I will not cry. I will not scream. I will not let these monsters break me.

“Rise,” Luc said into the silence of the room.

The courtiers all rose from their bows, as if holding the pose for minutes had been no strain at all. The human thralls remained on their knees beyond them. Azarasians drifted forward, lured from the statue-bound witches toward their kings and whatever it was they had to say.

Between two vampires, I caught a flash of Maire, kneeling with all the other thralls. Thank the stars they hadn’t realized her involvement.

“Last night, the Isauran delegation broke into the Imperial Apartment of Dawnspear with one goal,” Luc said. “To steal the covenant, our Mortal Bride, and take her to Isaura as their hostage.”

Whispers broke out among the courtiers.

“In doing so”—Luc didn’t glare, but the cutting edge of his tone silenced the courtiers—“they killed two of our Imperial Guard, Estrella and Tristan Ibarra, to fuel the transportation spell that helped them escape from the castle.”

It was like Luc had announced they’d killed everyone’s sister and brother. Fists clenched. Voices snarled. Fangs and claws bloomed from shadow as darkening eyes fixed on the delegation. Courtiers shifted in my periphery, silks swaying and jewels flashing as a silver-eyed, brown-skinned woman in an azure gown shoved to the front of the crowd. Her dark hair flowed around her shoulder to her waist, threaded with silver and sapphires.

Luc let his gaze flicker over to her. Tension pressed through the bond, tightening my chest before it dissolved. “Speak, Alicia.”

The silver-eyed vampire’s throat bobbed. Her hands were clenched at her sides, trembling just slightly. “Which one, Your Majesty?”

Her voice was steady, but only barely. The devastation laced through it was raw, visible in the fine quiver of her lip as she struggled to hold her expression neutral.

“They worked together to cast the spell,” Luc said.

Alicia’s eyes burned. “I demand retribution.”

“No.”

She took a step forward. “They killed my parents .”

My breath hitched. Parents. I hadn’t known Estrella and Tristan had a daughter.

“And they will die for their crimes,” Luc said, unfazed. “But they tried to steal our bride. Their lives are ours.”

Alicia clenched her fist, her knuckles going stark white.

“Careful, Alicia.” Jules’s voice was low and almost amused, but the flippant tone rang false. “You’ll find my soulbound and I have shorter tempers today. We had quite the night.”

Alicia froze. Then slowly, deliberately, she opened her hand. Her gaze dropped. “Of course, Your Majesty. Forgive me.”

Luc held her eyes for a beat. Then gave a single, measured nod. If he hadn’t just informed her of her parents’ deaths, he wouldn’t be as lenient.

He turned his attention back to us, focusing on Morrena. “Do you have anything to say for yourself before we sentence you and your kin for your crimes, Morrena?”

As he spoke, her shadow muzzle faded, the darkness peeling back into two plates of daemium embedded in the collar.

Morrena’s jaw clenched. Her shoulders squared as she lifted her chin, but her voice came cold and flat. “There is nothing left to say.”

The silence pressed in, fragile and unforgiving. Like the room itself was holding its breath.

She didn’t say Your Majesty . She wasn’t going to.

She would face death, but not bow to them.

Luc didn’t blink. “Very well. You’ve committed high treason. The sentence is death.”