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Chapter Thirty-Eight

RUNA

My heart hammered against my ribs so hard even the poor villagers of White Bridge could likely hear.

Idris, in his cruelty, managed to claim control of my body but not my mind.

Apparently, the mating bond I shared with Victor had prevented that.

Instead, Idris settled for ordering me about like a puppet while I was completely aware of the atrocities he forced me to commit.

When the false king discovered that Victor had claimed me as his mate, he flew into a rage.

His outrage was second only to my own. For Idris to be the one to inform me I was, in fact, mated was no small insult.

A slight I’d take up with my mate at a more opportune moment, even though the bond had protected me from the king’s nefarious plans.

Idris’s rage was such that I suspected he’d planned to assassinate my sister now that she was weakened, claiming me as his queen instead.

With Victor’s mark branding my neck, that was impossible.

Given the intense daggers Raelynn glared at me, I imagined she’d uncovered her husband’s thwarted plans as well.

“Dear brother,” Idris said with false sympathy, “I understand your reluctance. Truly, I do. Let it not be said that I am an unsympathetic king. Allow me to make things easier for you. Milani!” he shouted, and my heart leaped.

No. Don’t do this. Please, no .

The brownie who served us during the trials glided through a door onto the dais.

“Yes, your highness.”

“Idris, don’t,” I managed to groan.

“Silence,” he barked, and my lips slammed together.

“Kneel before your sovereign. The true king of Carcerem,” Idris ordered Milani.

As Milani sank to her knees, Idris offered her the dagger that rested at his side. “Here, dearest. Thank you for your service to the realm. It’s past time you and your family reaped the rewards of your loyalty.”

“We are honored, your highness.” Milani beamed up at him with hearts in her eyes. “Thank you for this great blessing you bestow upon us.”

“Proceed,” Idris ordered, dark glint in his smoky gaze.

“Milani, wait!” Victor’s bark of objection rang out. Too late.

Without hesitation, the misguided servant held the dagger aloft and stabbed it into her own breast.

Screams rang in my ears, and my head swam.

The devoted brownie crumpled at Idris’s feet.

Crimson bloomed across her simple shift, staining her wheat-colored braids and spilling onto the sacred arbor’s blackened roots.

The mighty tree trembled, a single leaf tearing from its straining branches, catching fire and turning to ash.

“Excellent,” Idris praised, his voice rising over the mummers of panicked villagers. “Runa, take the dagger from her chest.”

No. I sawed my teeth into the flesh of my cheek until the metallic tang of blood hit my tongue.

I would not. Despite my hard-fought resistance, my limbs moved with a mind of their own, and my legs marched forward.

As if it belonged to someone else, I watched my hand reach for the blade and yank it from Milani’s still-warm chest.

“Now, you will create the portal you promised my brother. I can’t have my consort not living up to her promises. Neighboring kingdoms will believe we are untrustworthy.”

Raelynn’s punishing grip clamped down on my shoulder, her nails stabbing into my flesh. “Picture the location King Idris’s informants gave you earlier and reach out with your senses.”

Between Idris’s order and my sister’s uncompromising guidance, the magic at my core ached to burst free.

Uttering a cry of outrage at Milani’s loss, I threw out my hand.

Wind whirled about the dais, teasing strands of my purple hair.

Crimson swirls of Milani’s aura wafted from her body, combining with my magic and twisting together, becoming one.

At first, the vortex was the size of a dinner plate.

Then it grew bigger until it was large enough for a grown man to pass through.

At its center, a blurry image formed, the edges becoming more defined.

It was a room filled with dark furniture.

Bookcases lined the walls with peculiar objects resting on the shelves.

A man with a bald head and neatly groomed beard entered the image and paused, frowning at the portal as if he sensed its invisible presence, then shrugged, moving to sit behind a heavy desk.

From a drawer, he extracted a cigar, lighting the end and propping his feet on the desktop.

“Magister Tiberius Steele,” Victor snarled.

With my arm locked out in front of me, I managed to twist my head, noticing the vampire’s expression. His rage was so chilling that I shivered. I’d never seen him so angry.

“My seers assure me this location has special meaning to you,” Idris said, words clipped with satisfaction. “A place called Claymore. They claim it was your home.”

“It was,” Custodis confirmed.

“And the male seated on your throne?”

“My nemesis. ”

“Wonderful,” Idris cackled. “Come closer, dear brother.”

Victor strode up the steps of the dais, stopping before me and the swirling vision of his home. He eyed the image, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, a silent intensity in his gaze.

“All you have to do is step through and reclaim what was taken from you, take your revenge, and kill the male responsible. He is right there, sleeping in your bed, enjoying all you worked for. Step through and claim what is yours. One caveat. Attempt to drag my consort with you, and rest assured, I will slaughter everyone in this room, starting with her brothers.”

Drazen. Kronk. My heart ached at the thought of them, so close, and yet I was helpless to save them.

I dared not look at their damaged bodies.

Flarking Idris had pinned them against the walls turns ago, letting them down only for his men to torture before stringing them back up.

He’d claimed they were placed there as a warning to all who considered treason.

It was a warning I’d heard all too well.

“Tell him, Runa,” Idris ordered, and once more, my words were mine.

I’d not let him end up like my family. “Go home, Victor. This is what you desired all along. I want you to go.” As my mother had given me, I would grant him the choice. A chance at freedom.

There was no need for Idris to force the words from my lips.

Yaga was gone. My brothers imprisoned. The villagers pawns in the king’s twisted games.

And I…I currently had zero control of my life, or my body, using my gift to further Idris’s agenda—helping him to drain the obsidian from our lands, ravaging our sacred tree.

Everything I sought to protect, I ended up destroying.

Despite my soul-deep intentions, I’d become my sister.

“Please,” I begged, voice thick. “Use the portal. Go home.”

Victor stepped closer and cupped my cheek, his winter-green fragrance flooding my senses. Emotions spilled from his golden gaze as he stared into my eyes, whispering, “Little thief, I am home.”

My heart tripped, and I trembled on the verge of tears. Had I misheard him? Surely—

“The portal won’t hold much longer,” Raelynn’s warning interrupted my thoughts. “Time to choose, vampire.”

Victor took a step back from me, an odd gleam shining in his eyes. “I choose…”

“Hurry,” Raelynn prompted.

“I choose… candied fire zapples.”

I coughed on the breath I’d held. “What?” My arm shook, my reserves waning as the portal began to shrink.

Victor grinned back at me. “I choose beauty and laughter. Fierce devotion. Wisdom and courage. Morgue and Fungaria and a dozen younglings. With you, sweet sorceress. I choose you.”

I dropped my aching arm, and the portal to the mortal world, to Victor’s life, collapsed.

“Flarking idiot,” Idris bellowed, “I offer you everything you desire, and yet you decide to stay? For what? Her?” He thrust an accusing finger in my direction, his fury igniting the air.

“A common criminal incapable of devotion? Did you not hear her rejection? If words won’t convince you, perhaps a demonstration of your mate’s affection is in order.

Runa, my darling…” Idris purred, his voice a venomous caress.

His oily presence slithered over my nerve endings, a cold, sickening weight curling around my limbs. Whatever he had planned was bound to be devastating.

The king’s perfect smile turned blinding as he commanded, “Cut out his heart.”

“Idris, you bastard!” I screamed, but the words barely left my lips before my body betrayed me. My grip tightened around Milani’s blood-coated dagger, my own hand swinging into motion—an executioner’s strike controlled by another’s will .

Victor vanished in a blur, the blade cutting through empty space where he once stood. Praise Hathor.

Too bad my relief was short-lived.

Radiant energy detonated like a shooting star, the force of Idris’s attack streaking across the dais.

A bolt of lethal power struck Victor dead center, the impact a deafening crack that sent him hurtling.

He crashed to the ground, landing in a spill of crimson fabric, his golden chest plate scorched and dented—a smoldering crater marking where Idris’s magic had struck.

“No,” I choked, horror constricting my throat. I’d seen similar blasts annihilate entire villages. Idris had used me as a distraction to mask his assault.

Shockwaves reverberated through my body. Above me, the limbs of the sacred arbor shuddered. Bitter pulses of obsidian slithered up the roots of the tree. My bones ached in sympathy. Carcerem cried, forced to commit the false king’s crimes.

Then, a movement—a spark of hope amid the devastation.

Victor groaned, pain-laced but alive . His fingers clawed at the scorched tiles as he shed his ruined cape, tossing aside his dented armor with a grunt. He rose, slow but steady, eyes burning with a fury that turned his golden irises molten.

He’d survived! My shoulders sagged, and my muscles became liquid.