Page 27

Chapter twenty-five

D imitri closed the bedroom door and strolled into the hall before coming to a stop.

He turned, finding a shadow hindering the morning light beneath the door frame.

He watched as Astrid paced at her point of escape, daring her to disobey him.

Minutes passed and the glow beneath the doorframe brightened, unobstructed.

Good girl, he thought before continuing his path.

The King’s apartments occupied the same wing.

Dimitri had taken residence here after the battle at Incarnadine Fields.

His footsteps echoed as he descended the stairs and turned down the first hall.

Their rooms were relatively close, and Dimitri couldn’t help but laugh.

He hoped Ambrose heard Astrid’s screams as she came.

By the blood, he hoped Ambrose heard every moan and whimper he tore from Astrid’s soft lips. Dimitri had claimed her in their oldest custom, but the fact that she’d been promised to Ambrose was salt he would endlessly pour into his king’s wounds.

A groan met Dimitri in the corridor and he grinned at the door. It was closed, save for a sliver. A request for privacy Dimitri had no intention of honoring. Disturbing his king was one of Dimitri’s few joys in life, and he cherished every opportunity.

He kicked the heavy oak door open and strolled in. Ambrose was seated at his desk, but it was the little blonde on her knees who drew Dimitri’s attention. His entrance startled her, and she’d struck the back of her head on the desk.

“It’s a bit early for philandering,” Dimitri said, strolling passed bookshelves and a map of the Eight Kingdoms mounted against the eastern wall.

His king glared at him and fisted the female’s hair. Her dark gray wings sank to the floor as a muted whimper escaped her.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Ambrose sneered.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the blonde said quickly. Her voice shook as she added, “The noise frightened me.”

Ambrose dragged her face to his cock and held Dimitri’s stare with a look of satisfaction.

This was nothing new to him, and Dimitri approached his king as wet choking sounds filled the space between them.

“Give me your wings,” Ambrose said amidst a moan.

The female reflexively tucked her wings against her body and Ambrose shoved her head down until she gagged.

“Now,” he whispered, holding her in place.

A broken sound came from her, muffled by Ambrose’s cock. She opened her wings to flank either side of his desk chair. His king unfastened a pair of daggers and staked the female’s wings beneath the arm rests. He stroked her blonde curls affectionately and leaned back.

“You can leave after you swallow my cum,” he said, tracing his thumb over her cheek as he turned his attention to Dimitri. “And what can I do for you, assassin?”

Dimitri’s gaze fell to the female’s wings.

She tried to keep them still, but they shifted with her movements.

The membrane split against the blade with each bob of her head.

Dimitri was no stranger to cruelty, even enjoyed it on most occasions, but this—like all his king’s strategies—was purposeless.

He yanked one dagger out of the chair and tossed the bloody steel onto the desk before biting out, “Leave us.”

“You do not command anything,” Ambrose snapped, holding the female’s head in place by her reddening scalp.

Dimitri flicked his wing over the far end of the chair and the second dagger clattered onto the polished floor. “You’ll suffer his rage or mine. You may not survive his, but you will certainly die screaming under mine,” Dimitri said.

He allowed a lash of his magic to bite and harrow her soul. Ripping pieces free. The female wailed as her soul crested his tongue. The putrid flavor of decay coated his mouth, and Dimitri’s stomach curled. After his taste of Astrid’s honeyed soul, the rotten tang of fear made his stomach roil.

The female scurried away, and Dimitri smiled. “I think she disagrees with you,” he said, leaning his hip on his king’s desk.

“You forget your place.”

Wrath hardened his features, and he tossed Astrid’s letter onto the desk. “I forget nothing,” Dimitri hissed in a low whisper.

Ambrose returned his stare and lowered his gaze to fasten his trousers. “Your plaything would look good on her knees. I want a taste of her. Can she swallow a cock, or does she cry and choke?” he asked.

“Touch her,” Dimitri said, smiling cruelly, “and the promises I made won’t protect you.”

“We both know your promise binds you,” Ambrose said dismissively before waving at his desk. “Your next assignment is in the folder.”

Dimitri retrieved the folder, not bothering to open it. When the previous queen ordered a death, he’d complied happily. Her absence weighed on him, and in the years without her, the elation he found serving her had vanished beneath his new monarch.

“I need a letter sent to Sorin at the Vermillion Palace,” Dimitri said, gesturing to the letter. “Redact most of it. I’m sure my feral neva is attempting to inform her family on how to best ambush us.”

Ambrose picked up the letter and flipped it over before carelessly discarding it onto a pile of letters. “No one is coming to save her. I split Clorea with her neighboring cousins.” He flicked the letter against the name again and laughed. “This very one she’s writing to.”

Dimitri was shocked into silence. His king sulked from the battlefield, but this went against every foundation Ledivion upheld. The kingdom was ripe for conquest. Blood.

Malice slipped through Dimitri’s voice as he spoke. “You surrendered half a kingdom when it was primed to take?”

Ambrose leaned forward on his desk and steepled his fingers under his chin.

Annoyance crossed his pale, yellow eyes.

“This is why you could never sit on the throne. You’re an abomination, too bloodthirsty and simple to understand gaining half a kingdom is better than laying siege for the possibility of one. ”

“You think the Legion would follow a king who cowers from battle?”

Ambrose flicked his hand in the dismissive way Dimitri despised. “A king doesn’t need to enter the battlefield. A king commands it.”

A muscle ticked in Dimitri’s jaw. “You don’t command me, and you seem to have forgotten. My hands placed that crown on your head, little brother.”