Page 62

My world was little more than screams and blood.

I stumbled through Duskfell’s black hallways, limbs and organs strewn across the floor. Human parts. Witch parts. Vampire parts. The terrifying sight was familiar, like I’d seen it before. But where—

I turned the corner.

A wraith lifted its face from a corpse, strings of gore trailing from its mouth. Its dead eyes snapped straight to me.

Fuck.

The shadow-creature moved in a blink. It lunged—

No. No, no, no. I screamed and scrambled back—

The monster slammed into me.

No. Through me.

A scream split the air behind me. I turned in time to see the wraith sink its claws into a silver-eyed vampire. They crashed to the ground. The wraith scooped out a fistful of glistening flesh and shoved it into its mouth before burying its head in the screaming vampire’s torso.

I slapped a hand over my mouth and staggered away.

This couldn’t be real.

I wasn’t in Duskfell. The massacre in Dawnspear was over. Before I was here, I was in Luc’s head, watching him in the castle above. The halls had been cleared.

But now… I was sleeping, still in Luc’s head. But this time, he was sleeping, too. If I focused, I could almost feel the kings’ warmth surrounding me, Jules’s arm across my stomach and Luc’s breath against the back of my neck. I was in their den. Safe. Whole.

This was a nightmare. Luc’s nightmare. Nothing more.

But I didn’t stop running. Even if this was only his imagination run wild with recent memories, I didn’t want to see anyone else torn apart.

I rounded the next corner—

And came face to face with Corinne.

My jaw dropped. Luc’s Corinne. Not a painting, but a woman standing tall before me. Blood splattered her torn azure gown. A long, slender sword hung from her grip, the black blade slick with fresh gore. Her silver eyes were narrowed with the focus of a seasoned warrior. She was fierce. She was beautiful. She was regal.

Godstars, she was perfection.

She was also very, very pregnant.

My brain stopped.

Corinne was pregnant .

Someone walked through me. Luc. He rushed forward, axe in hand. He slammed the blade into the marble and pulled Corinne into his arms. His mouth found hers in a kiss that was desperate and possessive. I watched, stunned.

When he pulled back, his hands remained on her, one on her ass and the other splayed across her rounded belly. His silver eyes burned, bright with lust… but also with undeniable love.

Oh.

Oh .

I had known Luc had loved her. The Conqueror wouldn’t keep a portrait on his desk and a grave in his palace garden for someone who didn’t matter. But I hadn’t known he loved her like this.

Just like I hadn’t known Corinne had been pregnant .

I’d never asked Luc if he had a child. He was over five hundred years old. It wouldn’t have surprised me.

But I didn’t think he did.

Which meant…

“Where’s Yseult?” Luc asked, reluctantly dropping his hand from her belly to grip his axe’s hilt.

“She’s down a floor,” Corinne said with a velvet rasp. Fuck, she even sounded perfect. “Not overly panicked but…”

“But we’re in a palace overrun with wraiths,” Luc finished, jaw tightening. “We’ll get her, and then I’m bringing you both to our den. They can’t reach that deep into Duskfell.”

“You can’t leave, Luc.”

Luc stiffened. “Corinne—”

Corinne gripped his lapels. “Marisol’s dead. Our people are bleeding in the halls. You’re their king. I don’t care that you’re three years from your hundredth birthday. If anyone has a problem with your age, they can try prying the crown from your hands. If a wraith isn’t killing them right now, you will.”

Luc stared at her. “Stand with me,” he said. “Be my queen.”

Corinne gasped, her eyes widening. “Luc, I—”

“Did you just propose in the middle of a massacre?”

All three of us turned.

Jules leaned against a wall, tossing a sword from hand to hand like it weighed nothing. His hair was pulled back, his pale cheeks streaked with blood. The crimson slicked his arms all the way to the elbows. Apparently, digging through wraith chests had always been one of the Butcher’s hobbies.

Luc glared. “Did you interrupt the middle of my proposal?”

Jules grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Yes.”

Corinne sighed, a fond exhale. “He’s right, Luc. This isn’t the time.”

“As soon as the palace is secure, it will be the time—”

Luc cut off mid-sentence, his voice trailing into silence. I frowned and glanced over at him. That wasn’t very… Conqueror of him. He was younger in this memory. Maybe that was it. But he was staring, completely still. Jules and Corinne had gone silent at his side.

I followed their gazes across the hall. Bodies littered the Duskfell throne room, visible through the thrown-open doors. All dead—except for a pale, dark-haired man dressed head-to-toe in black. He stood over the corpse of a dark-haired vampire, her features the same sharp elegance as Luc and Roxiana. That had to be Luc’s grandmother and the former regent, Marisol Vela.

The stranger’s pose held the lazy grace of a predator utterly unbothered by danger, one hand tucked in his pocket as he stared down at the dead vampire. He took in her cracked-open chest and the gaping hollow where her organs used to be with the disinterest of someone inspecting a scuffed shoe. Only half his profile was visible, veiled by a long fall of ink-dark hair, but what I could see made the breath rush from my lungs.

When his eyes flicked up, they were entirely black. Not dark. Black . Twisting, swirling shadow speckled with silver like a star-scattered sky.

Oh my fucking stars, that was a fucking demon .

He had to be. It had to be? Demons weren’t technically male or female, but if that was who I thought it was…

I had pictured him differently.

I almost laughed. Like I could’ve imagined him right, no matter how many descriptions filled The Soulborne Queen . He made the average vampire look like a human. His beauty was bright, divine, blinding.

Almost incomprehensibly so.

Motherfucking Azaras, in the flesh.

Sort of. This was still a dream. I wasn’t really here. Azaras couldn’t see me any more than Luc or Jules or Corinne could, all of them a memory.

This was as close as I ever wanted to get.

How had Karra walked up to that with the intent to seduce and kill? I’d have passed out the second those eyes turned my way.

For a second, Azaras stared at us.

We stared back.

Down the hall, someone died a horrible death, the wet, meaty sound of it echoing in the silence.

A flicker of movement behind Azaras caught my attention. A wraith scrambled up from a blood-soaked corner of the throne room and launched itself at the demon. Craving the power pulsing from him in waves.

Azaras exploded.

One second, a man. The next, a twisting mass of darkness that tore the wraith to shreds. Heat slammed through the air, hot enough that Luc and Jules both tensed. Corinne stumbled back a step. Blood splattered everywhere. Bits of monster rained down like meat.

Eww.

The shadows didn’t solidify back into a man. Azaras drifted forward in his truest form, an unnatural darkness that made my insides scream. It was getting closer, and I was standing here like an idiot—

“No.”

Luc’s voice cut through the panic stampeding in my brain. He stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Jules and Corinne. He looked nothing like his sire, but in that moment, I saw the resemblance in the way they stood. Unbreakable. Untouchable. Eternal.

The future Conqueror King stared down the Beast King and didn’t flinch.

The shadows vanished. Between one blink and the next, the throne room was empty of fallen godstars.

All that remained was the echo of his voice, low and mocking. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

In his place sat a sharp crown of daemium, twin to the one the kings had worn during the audience.

“Well, no one can argue with that,” Jules said after a heavy pause.

Luc just stared. Jules nodded toward the throne room, then tipped his chin at his soulbound. “Aren’t you gonna…?” He wiggled his fingers in the direction of the crown.

Luc didn’t so much as glance at it. “Azaras can keep his crown,” he said, voice low. “He came to check if Marisol was dead, nothing more.”

Jules straightened. “Luc—”

“No, Julien.” Luc’s tone sharpened as he turned toward him. “Azaras isn’t giving me his kingdom. He abandoned it to rule his hell hundreds of years ago. It’s not his to give.”

Jules rolled his eyes and muttered, “Save some vitriol for Allegra Isaura, Lucey. She didn’t even bother to hide her signature on those everlife runespells.”

Luc’s jaw clenched. “I don’t need to save any vitriol for that witch. I have enough for both of them.”

Something shifted in the dark hallway. A snarl cut through the air. A wraith burst around the corner and lunged straight for Jules’s exposed back, its claws stretched.

I slapped a hand over my mouth, biting back a shout. I knew this was the past. I knew Jules survived this night and hundreds more after it. But my heart still jumped into my throat, wild with panic for the Butcher.

My captor.

My king.

My soulbound.

I didn’t want him to get hurt.

And I couldn’t even blame that on the bond. This surge of protectiveness wasn’t self-preservation. This wasn’t real. This Jules wasn’t even my soulbound, technically.

The concern was mine .

Heat flared past me. Strike. Burn. Luc’s runes ignited the air, searing a line straight toward the creature. The wraith was flung across the room, its shadows sizzling like flesh against flame.

Jules twisted toward Luc, catching his gaze. His eyes widened.

A scream tore through the air behind me, high-pitched and agonized.

Luc spun. I spun.

He had told me Corinne died during the massacre at Duskfell. I’d seen wraiths tear through too many bodies today. I thought I knew what to expect.

The truth was worse.

Three wraiths had buried their arms inside her. Corinne’s silver eyes went wide as her skin paled. Her mouth stretched in agony as the monsters tore her open, rooting around and pulling out chunks of red.

They ate her lifeforce.

They ate her flesh.

They ate her organs.

They ate her baby .

I spun and gagged. Oh my fucking stars, it had its hand in her belly. I could not watch this. I stumbled away blindly through the carnage. Like if I walked far enough, I could walk right out of this terrible nightmare.

Corinne had died hundreds of years ago. I couldn’t do anything to change it. I couldn’t do anything to help.

Behind me, Luc roared. The sound wasn’t human. It wasn’t even vampire. It shook the ground like thunder and cracked through my bones like a godstar’s fury. Power burst into the air. Raw. Unfiltered. It scorched the space behind me, blistering heat flaring across my back.

He hadn’t cast a rune. He’d struck on blind instinct.

The wraiths screamed, a horrible, dying wail. Jules flew past me in a blur of motion, sprinting to his soulbound’s side.

Somewhere under all the chaos, Corinne gagged.

She was choking on her own blood.

I started running.

I didn’t know where. I couldn’t see through the blur of tears, couldn’t think past the screaming in my head. There was only blood and death and terror.

All I knew was I had to get away.

Get away, get away , getaway —

I slammed into something warm and familiar.

My entire body went slack. If strong arms hadn’t caught me, I would’ve crumpled straight to the floor. But they did. They tightened around my waist, steadying me. All the tension, all the fear, drained from me. Entirely.

I slumped against a firm chest. My cheek settled against soft silk right above the slow, steady beat of a heart. I breathed in a scent I knew in my bones.

I wasn’t safe in these arms, but I’d never felt safer in my life.

Lips brushed my forehead. “Wake up, Nessa.”