Page 56 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

“ O pen the fucking door,” Rokath growled, slamming his fist against the heavy wood. Behind me, Kiira shifted from foot to foot. The Kral’s Guard had taken one look at Rokath’s furious expression and wisely positioned themselves on the floor below us, out of the way of his wrath.

Still, Xannirin did not answer. Not so much as a sound drifted beneath the door. “I know you are in there. You have three seconds to let us in before I shatter this wood.”

Rokath never made idle threats.

“One,” he started counting like Xannirin was a fucking child.

Which, currently, he was acting like a very spoiled one.

“Two,” Rokath pronounced, his tone threaded with violence. Before he opened his mouth to utter three, the door flew open, exposing the Kral of the Demons.

Dressed in a smart tunic and pants, rings glinting on his fingers, he sneered at us. “What do you want?”

The utter exasperation in his tone very much matched the one I wanted to express with him. Rokath didn’ t respond, merely shouldered past his cousin, leaving space for Kiira and I to enter in his wake. I didn’t apologize as I accidentally jostled his torso as I passed.

Kiira, unfortunately, appeared more apologetic.

“What is the meaning of this?” Xannirin asked, slamming the door shut and spinning on my mate.

“You haven’t been available for days,” Rokath stated, leaning against the window and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Kiira and I took a seat on a plush couch between the two males.

I honestly couldn’t understand Xannirin’s open hostility. I regarded him warily as he took a step closer to Rokath. The tiny garnet on my ring grounded me amid the tempest brewing in the room as I fiddled with it.

No one spoke. Heated glances volleyed back and forth.

Who would be the first to crack?

“First, I have one question for you, Xannirin,” Rokath said, each word spoken slowly as if he were attempting to convey the seriousness of what would follow.

The Kral raised a skeptical brow. His hair was tied neatly back, not a single strand out of place. His beard appeared recently sheared, revealing his carved jaw. It was as if he wanted to show the world how put together he was when everything else was falling apart around him.

“What is that?” he drawled as if he were bored with our appearance.

Rokath paused, and my heart raced against my ribs. Every muscle in my body tensed, even as I leaned forward ever so slightly, waiting for him to speak. Kiira did too.

“Did you hire someone to kill Assyria and Kiira?”

The question cracked the air like a stone through stained glass .

Xannirin didn’t even blink. Didn’t even hesitate to reply. His expression remained perfectly placid. “No.”

“Let me rephrase.” Darkness stained Rokath’s expression as he glared at his cousin. “Did you arrange for, in any way, someone to attack Assyria?”

The Kral’s attention flicked to Kiira for the span of a heartbeat before returning to my mate. “No.”

Rokath’s fingers dug into his biceps. “Then why don’t I believe you?”

“That is your problem, not mine,” Xannirin shot back, his shoulders rising.

“You would lie to us? After everything?” Kiira snapped, surging to her feet.

Xannirin’s countenance softened as he faced her. “I would never lie to you.”

“But you would to Rokath?” she challenged, undeterred by the smooth way he crafted his words.

A muscle feathered in his jaw, and he took a step toward her. “Kiira…”

Rage engulfed our bond in a fiery inferno. A look of horror crossed Kiira’s face. My brows shot up my forehead.

Clutching her chest, the High Priestess shrank away from her Kral. “No, you don’t get to ‘Kiira’ me. Not now. Speak the truth.”

Rokath shifted off the wall, vibrating with barely-restrained fury. Xannirin sliced his attention to my mate. “There is a group of people who are unhappy that females are among them now. I merely provided them with some useful information.”

A roar shook me to my core as Rokath lunged for his cousin. Ebony exploded from both of them, sending vases crashing to the ground. I leaped to my feet, calling on my own magic, ready to assist my mate.

The onyx cloud cleared for a blink, revealing Xannirin swiping a dagger toward Rokath’s thigh. My mate kicked his hand, sending the blade clattering away. They collided in a tangle of limbs, lost to the void of power again.

“We have to do something, they’re going to kill each other!” I snapped at Kiira.

Shadow unfurled from her hands, and she wielded each thick whip with expert precision. Snapping it into the darkness, she removed some of the smoky air. Rokath had Xannirin on his stomach, and my mate hooked an arm beneath the Kral’s chin. Xannirin’s face ripened to a rich shade of red.

“You can’t kill him!” I screamed, barging forward. If he did, Rokath would become Kral, and he didn’t want that. The idea had shaken him so much that he hadn’t slept at all last night. As much as I wanted retribution for Xannirin’s actions, I didn’t want it to come at my mate’s expense.

With a hard shove, I knocked Rokath and Xannirin over. They broke apart like shards of obsidian thrown against the ground, and I had to leap into the air to clear their jagged strikes. Yet neither were deterred from their savage barrage.

“Listen to your mate!” Kiira shouted at Rokath, magic spooling around her and forcing back her cousins’ powers.

But both males were too far gone in their fury to hear us. Diving into the well of magic in my chest, I yanked with all my might on our bond. Still, they fought, blood flying as they exchanged bone-jarring blows.

With a snarl, Rokath punched Xannirin in the gut, bowing his frame. He stumbled back, doubled over and wheezing. My mate wasted no time in taking him to the ground. Their collision quaked the floor, and I pitched to the side, managing to catch myself on a cracked wooden side table.

A bronze blade flashed as Rokath drew it overhead. “Stop!” I screamed, one last desperate attempt to change his fate.

But he drove it down .

“I was raped by Ollmund Varrir!” Kiira yelled. Her voice fractured on her attacker’s name.

Rokath halted with the dagger mere inches from Xannirin’s neck. The air in the room froze over. Neither male breathed as they gaped at their cousin.

“What did you say?” Rokath whispered, and that was far more terrifying than any growl or snarl I’d ever received from him.

I whipped my head to her, watching as her face crumpled.

“Ollmund Varrir raped me.”

I ached to go to her, to comfort her once again. Yet I didn’t dare move with the males still on the precipice of violence.

The blade clattered against the stone as Rokath’s hand slackened.

His haunted expression seared into my memory as he rose off Xannirin, his attention wholly on Kiira.

The Kral looked as horror-struck as his cousin.

That hateful, disdainful sneer completely melted and was replaced by something shattered.

He stumbled to his feet, wiping his bloody face on his tunic.

“When?” Rokath gritted out.

This time, I did move toward Kiira, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight. I’d protect her, even if these two idiots didn’t.

“He came to Varbad not long after you left, attempting to influence me to secure Orith a match with you, since it is known that I have sway over you, Rokath. When I told him no–” She shuddered, and I kept my grip, letting her know I was there.

That he wasn’t moments from touching her again.

“He put something in my wine while we were speaking. I didn’t even notice. ”

“He’s a corpse the moment I lay eyes on him again,” Rokath snarled, grief and rage scorching down our bond. “I have half a mind to return to Uzhhorod this very minute and flay the skin from his bones.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Xannirin asked, his face ashen. “Kiira, I would have had him removed immediately.”

She cocked her head as she stared him down. The moment of truth had arrived—the moment Kiira had feared.

“Would you have? With how much influence he has over the other nobles? With how they already whispered of losing this war? He would have only stoked the flames of their fears. Plus, no one cares when a female is raped. It would have been my word against his.”

“I believe you, Kiira. I would have believed you then!” Xannirin exclaimed, raking his hands through his long hair and squeezing. “Fuck!”

I watched the Kral crumble to pieces. Yet Kiira held strong, which made me all the more furious at Xannirin’s behavior.

And this whole Fates’ damned situation. “This realm must fucking change,” I snapped.

“Kiira wouldn’t have suffered this. Fuck, I wouldn’t have suffered this if you hadn’t decided what our lives were allowed to be!

If you hadn’t shrouded us and called it safety.

If you hadn’t taught males to see us as property, then punished us for the wounds they inflicted. ”

Venom spit in each word. My chest heaved from the vehemence of my soliloquy.

“Females are forced into beds with lecherous males, into marriages we didn’t choose, into bearing children we didn’t ask for, and when we resist, we’re branded fallen—discarded, disavowed, destroyed.

The silence we’re made to endure is oppressive .

Kiira was born noble, and I was elevated through marriage, but it made no difference.

We are still treated like breeding pets—collared by your version of faith, paraded for others approval, leashed to the egos of the males who claimed us. ”

I released Kiira and stalked toward the fucking Kral. “You didn’t simply veil our bodies. You taught the world to call our submission sacred.”

Xannirin, to my shock, met my furious gaze with what looked a lot like regret.

Rokath spoke again, his gravelly voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “We went too far. Do you realize the pressure you put on me too? Do you understand everything I have sacrificed to ensure the Angels haven’t advanced past Ustlyak into Demon territory?”