Page 14 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

Kathrine

Kathrine nudged the necromancer towards the Queen’s chamber with the muzzle of her gun pressed against his back. Shaved, with cropped black hair and a sharp dark grey suit, he finally looked like himself.

The Mother of Reptilians glanced over his imposing frame. “You clean up well, Constantine.”

“You summoned me, Your Majesty.” His words held an undertone of excitement.

The Queen fiddled with the chain around her neck, allowing the ring hanging from it to catch the light. “How are you finding your new accommodations?”

“Magnificent, Your Majesty.”

“Have you given my proposal any thought?”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, a sly grin forming. “You realise that once you extract the witch’s soul from me, your hold over me is gone? There’s no taking back my powers.”

“Of course,” she said. “Necromancers are the only beings immune to the Sandir’s Smoky Quartz. But I have no intention of restoring your powers just to strip them away again.”

His smirk widened. “Aren’t you afraid I might cause trouble?”

“Trouble?” The Queen arched an eyebrow, her expression souring. “I’d have your head off your shoulders before you could even consider it, necromancer. Powers or no powers, you’re equally harmless to me.”

“I feel so special,” he quipped dryly.

“Will you go to Hell and fetch the gloves I’ve asked for?”

His black eyes locked onto hers, a sinister shadow crossing his face.

At that moment, Kathrine realised her error.

Despite the tailored suit and groomed appearance, this was not the necromancer she’d heard of.

The one from the tales had been cynical, brazen, and corrupt, yet alive.

The man standing before her was devoid of anything but a twisted pleasure in sinking deeper into depravity.

How foolish they had been to mistake his outrageous demands for signs of surrender.

Constantine’s lips formed a wicked grin. “No, Your Majesty. You can take the stone and shove it into your dusty hole that hasn’t seen action in decades. Unless you count the jester with the colossal ego that can’t compensate for his micro-dick. No wonder his fiancée gets wet near me.”

***

Kathrine

Lina spat out blood, her jaw throbbing from Kathrine’s last punch. “You’re particularly fired up today, Commander.”

One of the trainees handed her a cloth. Let the young ones learn. These were just demonstration spars, but they were intended to prepare for real combat.

“Sorry.” Kathrine’s tone came out more acute than apologetic.

The moment Lina resumed her stance, Kathrine lunged at her with relentless kicks, her mind elsewhere. She wasn’t fighting Lina – she was battling someone taller, darker, with a sharp tongue she fantasised about cutting out.

That bastard had humiliated her again! How dare he speak about her like that? As if her failed attempts to break him hadn’t already damaged her reputation with the Queen.

She wanted to challenge him to a fight, just to prove how much she could make him wet – with sweat and blood. The idea of knocking him on his arse was… exhilarating.

Kathrine threw herself into the sparring until her muscles burned. Finally, she retreated to her quarters. Standing by the bed, she unzipped her uniform, savouring the relief of shedding its weight. Before stepping into the shower, her gaze caught her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Her flushed skin, a result of the workout, added a rare vibrancy to her face. Her violet eyes shimmered with an uncharacteristic glow, as if someone had sprinkled stardust into her irises.

She thought about the necromancer and his effortless defiance of the Queen. Was that envy she felt?

***

Kathrine

Kathrine woke to the slam of the door, followed by heavy footsteps approaching.

Sevar settled onto the bed beside her. The muted gleam of moonlight softened his features. He traced Kathrine’s lips with his finger. “I heard the necromancer is still courting death.”

Kathrine recalled the venomous insults Constantine had hurled about Sevar earlier that day. It was a good thing her fiancé hadn’t been present. With his quick temper, Sevar might have killed the man outright, regardless of the Queen’s plans for him.

“He won’t go after the gloves, Sevar.”

Sevar shook his head. “Oh, he will. No creature escapes her plans.”

“But he doesn’t want to escape. He wants to die.”

“They all say that – until they stand at death’s door. In that moment, their eyes are the most desperate for salvation.”

Sevar was well-acquainted with death. As the Queen’s right hand, he often carried out her executions.

“Did you know my father, Sevar?”

Her fiancé frowned. “Why bring this up now?”

“You were speaking about taking lives…” She sighed, unsure if she wanted to unearth the mysteries of her past. Every time she ventured down this path, fear restrained her. What if the truth was worse than remaining in the dark?

“You wonder if I was the one who executed him? No, violet love. It wasn’t me.”

“Have you ever seen him?”

“For heaven’s sake, Kathrine. We’ve had this conversation a dozen times. I’ve never seen your father. Back then, I was just a twenty-something trainee with no access to that kind of information. All I know is what you do.”

That the Queen’s guards had arrested her father shortly after Kathrine was born, accused of inciting rebellion. Her mother, consumed with shame, had never spoken his name again. “I thought… maybe the Queen had told you more…”

She trailed off when Sevar shrugged off his suit jacket, uninterested in continuing the conversation. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to repeat aloud her mother’s final words: ‘Your father was never in Antambazi.’

If that were true, her mother must have crossed the boundaries of the realm.

“What was that, love?” Sevar asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he kissed her – deeply, like he hadn’t in weeks – his hands following his intentions.

For Kathrine, it was enough to make her forget the questions about her past.