Page 57 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

Xannirin dragged his attention to my mate, as did the rest of us.

“Clearly not.” The words were sharper than a blade.

And there was the Kral I knew. “Since you let fifty thousand soldiers die for Assyria. Surely what’s so special about her is not that she is here to tell us we need to change society?

How fucking useless is that. I thought she’d at least be some sort of weapon to help you win. Instead, she’s helping us lose.”

Kiira snapped first, her voice cutting through before Rokath or I could react.

“Watch how you speak about our cousin’s mate .

If you don’t stop with your horseshit, I will walk out of here and tell the world what we did, Xannirin.

It’s becoming apparent that you have no respect for females any longer, and I will not stand for it. ”

His mouth thinned as he glared at all of us. “I am not okay with this.”

“Then let me show you what other suffering has happened in your name, and maybe you can appreciate for a mere fucking second, what we’ve done for you.” Rokath unbuttoned his tunic and stripped it from his body. Tossing it on the floor, he turned and flashed scars I knew all too well.

“Here,” he pointed to a spot on his ribs inked more heavily than others, “is where I took an arrow. It nearly hit my lungs. I fought for three hours with it embedded in my side. And here,” he gave us his back and pointed to a spot just above his hip bone, “an Angel stuck a dagger as I fought off four more in front of me.”

Sorrow sank into my bones as Rokath detailed the myriad of ways he’d brushed death. Of course, I’d known he never held back from the fighting, but this?

This slashed my heart in an entirely new way.

Rokath flipped his palms up and shoved them outward, one for Xannirin and the other for Kiira, to see.

A white scar from each of the stakes Zaph put through them decorated the centers.

Kiira sucked in a breath and leaned forward.

Tentatively, she reached for one, tracing a finger over the puckered skin.

“Zaph staked me to the ground while he slaughtered all my soldiers. Their screams echo in my dreams when I manage to sleep. For years, my life has been nothing but death and blood. My body, my mind, my soul have absorbed it all and channeled it into what I do best: killing. The rage inside of me still burns. But I want you to fucking acknowledge for once what I do for you, Xannirin,” he bit out, curling his fingers into his palms and hiding the scar.

“And don’t you dare tell me I am incapable of protecting my mate.

Or that I shouldn’t spare a second for her.

And if you ever deign to suggest to others a location where she is vulnerable, I will have your balls. ”

Xannirin exhaled, long and slow. The tension bled from his shoulders as he looked between the three of us.

Is he finally seeing reason?

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

A hand smoothed back his tangled hair, and he worked the leather from its lengths.

No one spoke as he fixed it again. “I never should have said that, Rokath. I am sorry. So fucking sorry. To you and to Kiira.” He paused, his throat working while she held her chin high.

“I cannot undo what has happened to you, Kiira. But I can ensure it doesn’t happen again in the future.

And to you, Assyria. I have treated you terribly when I should have welcomed you into House Vrak. ”

My brows shot up my forehead at his almost-apology.

“You were right, Rokath.” His voice was hoarse and no louder than a whisper. “This all spiraled out of control because of my ambition. But you can’t say it’s the only thing that started it. Our fathers couldn’t have protected us like you have.”

Silence reigned among us for many minutes. An inferno of emotion twisted inside Rokath at Xannirin’s acknowledgement. I studied my mate, trying to discern exactly what those words had brought up in him.

“I’ll make an appearance tomorrow during training hours and declare my support for the integration.”

At Xannirin’s promise, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Kiira and I exchanged a look of surprise.

“Afterward, I will depart for Uzhhorod, and I will find other powerful females for your army, Rokath.”

I could only blink at the Kral.

Rokath was less convinced, his jaw still clenched. “Will you?”

Xannirin nodded, opening his arms and letting them hang by his sides. “Aye. I have heard you all.”

A beat passed, and then Kiira spoke. “I will stay behind once you go. I am tired of pretending to be the most pious female in the whole Demon Realm. I need a break.”

Xannirin nodded. “Remain here. I will cover for you when I return to Uzhhorod. But I do need to arrive with new stories in hand. You are the expert at this, Kiira. I trust your judgement.”

I scrutinized the Kral. His words, his posture, all of it seemed sincere. And yet I couldn’t shake this sick feeling in my stomach when I looked at him.

“We have been, and always will be a team,” Kiira added, glaring at him as if she too struggled to believe his words. “You just need to see all of it again, Xannirin. You drifted too far out on your own without appreciating everything we did in your name.”

“You’re right,” he told her. “I won’t let that happen again. We can do anything so long as we do it together.”

“Aye,” Rokath affirmed, though he regarded the Kral with wariness.

“Why don’t we sit now that cooler heads are prevailing and speak of what we need to do next?” Kiira suggested. Tension still hung like a thick fog in the air, but the four of us managed to settle around an expansive dining table off to one side without killing each other.

Honestly, Kiira’s admission had thrown a bucket of ice water over these two hot-headed males. Their sober expressions as they cleaned their faces spoke to how deeply they cared for their cousin.

“If I might make a suggestion,” Rokath started, shifting in his seat.

“To sell the idea to the nobles of integrating the army, we can say the best fuck you to the Angels is to allow our powerful magic-wielding females to overwhelm them on the battlefield. Since so many already believe them to be second-class citizens, it will stroke the egos of many Nayúr.”

Xannirin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Rokath’s satisfaction at rendering his cousin speechless drifted down our bond. I smothered a smug expression.

“Let me put it this way. If we let them fight too, we show the Angels just how powerful we really are, that we don’t need males to defeat all their forces. We raze our way through the northern part of their realm, setting each city ablaze.”

Rokath paused, shooting me a wink. I sent him a devious grin back. Oh, I really liked his reasoning here. Even if Xannirin wanted to refuse, he couldn’t with this logic.

“Then we surround Sivy and execute the Koron and Korona. You sit on both thrones, you give the Angels one less reason to hate you, one less reason for them to resist your rule, and then every fucking day you show them we are the superior race.”

Xannirin’s eyes brightened. I held my breath.

Is Rokath really convincing him?

“It is an…intriguing possibility,” Xannirin finally spoke. “The nobles will likely buy into this, yes. More than anything else you’ve suggested before.”

Because, much like Xannirin, they were a bunch of self-important assholes. I’d gotten a full taste of that mentality being married to Vagach.

“Once we win a few battles, they’ll believe even more,” I pressed, determination swelling within me.

Rokath gave a subtle nod, and I continued.

“Most of the females Kiira brought have powerful magic. With the High Priestess as witness, everyone will believe the stories she writes back to you about the glory we are claiming for the Demons.”

“They will crave news from the front. Stories of the Szélhámos, the mate of the Halálhívó,” Kiira added in a rush.

“Especially with how I write of them. It has been some time since I was able to craft stories of our mystique, Xannirin. You remember how quickly they swayed the populace before. The mythos of the Halálhívó and the Szélhámos of them will intrigue many minds.”

Xannirin rubbed his jaw, considering all the words aimed at him. “I can see it. But…” he trailed off, leveling his intense gaze on me. I narrowed my eyes on him in return, my posture stiff and defiant. “Do I have your word that you won’t use your newfound status to move against me?”

A scoff slipped out before I could stop it. My nails dug into my arms. How fucking dare he question that I’d want his Fates’ damned throne? Was that why he’d sent an assassin after me in the first place?

“For fuck’s sake, Xannirin,” Rokath snapped. “We have no designs on your seat. That was what Assyria yelled down our bond when I was moments from killing you. I have no desire to rule.”

I held up a hand to silence my mate. Then, holding the gaze of the Kral of all the Demons, I rose, splaying my hands out across the polished wood, one finger at a time. I leaned forward, lifting my lips from my teeth. “You may be the Kral, but I am the Szélhámos.”

A riot of shadow swirled around me, and I pulled Xannirin’s face to my own within the span of a breath.

He paled as he beheld his reflection. I ensured I mirrored his hateful expression too.

His voice came out with my next words. “Rokath could slaughter you and no one would ever know. We’d rule for millenia more, no one the wiser.

I suggest you refrain from pissing either of us off if you’d like to keep your useless ass on your precious throne. ”

Then, I dropped my power and eased back into my chair.

Rokath’s hungry gaze caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, but it was nothing compared to the utter distraction coming down our bond. Gravel rolled through his tone as he spoke in my mind. “I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed. Those insults were sharper than my sword.”