Page 129 of Hell Fae King

But not Nos.

In fact, I hadn’t heard from him at all.

Which was strange since apparently his son, Sabre, the heir to the Strigoi throne, had relocated to another dimension—a development I’d learned from Hades, not from Nos.

So why have you been so quiet about all of this?I wondered as the guard opened the ornate doors to reveal Nos sitting alone on his throne.

I blinked, taken aback by the scene while memories danced through the familiar space. It was a bizarre sensation. Like hundreds of souls frolicked throughout the room. Only, it was bare.And so very… dead.

The bloody rays of the Strigoi moon clashed against the dust in the air, as if this were the inside of a crypt. It was more reminiscent of a graveyard than a throne room.

Which it shouldn’t be. This wasn’t the Netherworld Kingdom; it was the land of dreams.

The Morpheus Kingdom could play tricks on the mind, but this wasn’t an illusion. The decrepit scene before me was the result of a neglectful Strigoi King.

It was his job as the head of the royal Strigoi bloodline to maintain the blood fields, to ensure their life and prosperity in exchange for an abundance of energy.

But he’d clearly failed in that task.

And many others,I thought as I stepped into the room.

The stench of wilted flowers wafted around me even though we were far away from the courtyard now. I searched for evidence of any discarded bouquets but only found a massive dais at the end and silver vines threaded through bare marble. Those vines gathered around a blood-red design that glowed on the ground just beneath Nos’s tattered boots.

The hairs along my arms stood on end, my nerves prickling with every step I took through the room.

Nothing had felt right since I’d arrived.

Hell, I was pretty sure this sensation had begun before I’d left.When Camillia altered Vita.It was like a jolt to my mind, the energy coming at me from the wrong direction and leaving me off-kilter.

I’d hoped the longer flight and walk here would have helped clear some of that fog from my mind, but it was only getting worse.

And the dropping temperature of this room was not helping.

My dress shoes clicked across the chamber floor as the icy bite of the air prickled across any exposed skin. The Morpheus Kingdom wasn’t usuallywarm, necessarily. But I was certain it’d never been this cold before.

Nos’s red eyes watched me as I approached. He definitely didn’t appear to be dying. Actually, he was almostglowing.

Because he’s drawn in all the power of his territory, choking off his own people to keep himself alive,I realized. It was the only conclusion that made sense.

And here he sat on the very throne I’d gifted the Strigoi. The one I’d crafted from magic to serve as a power source in the absence of a Sigil.

“Whoever sits upon the throne controls the Strigoi Royal Bloodline,” I’d announced long ago.

Then I’d left it up to the Strigoi to determine their fate.

Nos was the most recent victor, with many kings having sat on this throne before him.

Yet seeing the Strigoi King like this now, all gluttonous and unrepentant, had me regretting my choice not to monitor the situation more closely over the millennia.

I believed in free will. Allowing my Nightmare Fae to thrive. But this was not thriving. This wasdying.

I’ve greatly neglected my role as guide and protector here.

I’ve been too busy. Too overloaded to notice the Strigoi slipping right out from underneath me.

And now what power remained in this territory glowed at Nos’s feet, seemingly the only sparkle of life in the otherwise suffering territory.

At least until he removed the mirage cloaking the room—a mirage I’d felt when sensing the lingering souls in the room.