CHAPTER EIGHT
LAIROS
T he deck shook again, harder this time.
Through the glass, dark shapes darted through the maelstrom’s currents.
Knights.
Had to be.
The bastards had found us.
The alarm klaxon wailed to life.
The emergency lights flashed red, bathing Emme’s worried face in crimson.
I grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the glass.
“We need to move. Now.”
Guards rushed past us as we tore through the corridors toward the command center.
Each shriek and flash of the alarm made my blood burn hotter.
This was my territory.
Mine.
Violated by traitors and thieves.
Emme kept pace with me easily, though she must have sensed the violence coiled in my muscles, ready to spring into action.
Part of me relished the challenge—the chance to cut down every last betrayer responsible for ripping my throne away from me.
But there was something far more important here that required defending.
My mate.
The bridge buzzed with activity when we arrived.
Technicians scurried around consoles, updating the holomap displayed on the central table.
Vigas stood at the central command table, barking commands that cut through the noise.
“Report,” I ordered, joining him at the table.
Stillwater Hold appeared there in vivid detail, the corridors traced in gold, critical systems outlined in blue.
Red dots flashed where intruders had breached the outer defenses.
There were far, far too many red dots.
Vigas didn’t waste time with formalities.
“Initial breach in the lower levels, but the containment doors held. We’ve lost contact with sectors fifteen and twelve.”
“How?” My fingers traced the breach points, searching for a pattern in the attack.
“Unknown. Possible sabotage.” Vigas’s expression hardened, a look I’d seen too often during my years training under his command.
“We’re scanning for additional?—”
Another explosion rocked the outpost, this one closer.
I grabbed the nearest console to keep from falling as the lights flickered.
“Sector two breached! Sealing emergency doors now!”
Two.
Fuck.
Right below the observation deck, where we’d just stood watching the maelstrom.
They were hunting from above and below.
As trained.
I reached for Emme.
Her face was pale but focused, that sharp mind of hers already calculating our situation.
“We need to get you to the evacuation pods.”
She gave me a quick nod.
Of course she understood, she was a scientist who’d studied ocean depths.
She knew exactly how deadly this situation could become for someone without the ability to breathe underwater.
“Go,” Vigas ordered, turning back to the command table.
“We’ll hold them here.”
We raced through corridors now filled with guards sealing hatches and checking pressure gauges.
The fortress had withstood countless attacks over centuries, but never from within.
Never with saboteurs already inside our walls.
Another explosion shuddered through the outpost.
Emergency doors slammed shut behind us, cutting off our path back to the command center.
Ahead, water seeped under another sealed door—signs of flooding in the adjacent sector.
Our escape routes were disappearing one by one.
Three corridors from the evacuation pods, we entered a stretch of hallway that was too quiet.
Water trickled in through the seams of the walls.
“We need to move faster,” I urged Emme.
We turned a corner and froze.
A Knight crouched at the far end of the corridor, hands working methodically on what could only be an explosive.
He spun to face us, his eyes fixing on Emme with raw hatred.
“The false king,” he spat, rising to his feet.
“Nedaris will cleanse these waters of human filth.”
My blood burned at the mention of my brother’s name, at the way this traitor looked at my mate.
The urge to rip his throat out surged through my muscles, but I forced myself to pause.
I slid a look to Emme and arched a brow.
“May I?”
Her slight nod was all I needed.
With a snarl, I launched myself at the traitor.
The Knight dropped his device and ripped the charged blade from his belt.
Too slow.
I was already inside his guard, driving my fist toward his throat.
He twisted at the last second.
Lightning-hot pain lanced through my arm as his blade sliced deep.
Blood—my blood—sprayed across the corridor wall.
The wound burned like acid, but I’d suffered worse.
Much worse.
We crashed together, the impact sending us staggering down the corridor.
The device skittered across the floor ahead of us.
I stretched, reached, scrambled until my fingers brushed its casing just as the Knight grabbed my wounded arm and yanked.
Fresh agony shot through me as I slammed my forehead into his face.
The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking barely registered as I spotted his free hand reaching for the device.
I closed my fingers around his throat, squeezing.
He thrashed, desperation giving him strength.
His knee drove into my wounded arm, and stars burst across my vision.
His fingers found the detonator.
Triumph flashed in his eyes as he pressed the trigger.
I snapped his neck with a single, vicious twist.
The device lay near an open doorway.
One kick sent it spinning into the empty room.
Heat and pressure slammed into me.
My back hit something solid and the air rushed from my lungs.
For one suspended moment, I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe.
Then came the rush of water.
The outer wall had cracked, seawater seeping faster and faster through the breach as the cracks quickly spread.
I rolled to my feet, disoriented but moving on pure instinct.
Emme stood several yards away, her eyes wide with shock as the corridor began to flood.
Between us, the containment door began sliding closed.
“No!” I roared, diving toward her.
Water splashed under my feet, then swept around my ankles, slowing my progress.
I wasn’t going to make it.
My hand stretched toward hers, inches separating us as the door slammed shut with a groan.
Separating me from my mate.
I slammed my fist against the metal, frustration and fear clawing at my throat.
“Emme!”
Her voice came through, muffled but audible.
“I’m here!”
Relief crashed through me, so intense it nearly brought me to my knees.
“The evacuation pods are two levels up! Follow the red emergency lights!”
“What about you?” Her voice cracked on the question.
Even now, with death lapping at her heels, she worried about me.
We’d had so little time together.
Barely enough to taste what might have been.
The thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her laugh or feeling her skin against mine.
.
.
No.
That wasn’t an option.
“I’ll find you,” I promised, pressing my palm flat against the door.
“I’ll make this right. Your people will have their sanctuary. But you need to move. Now!”
I heard her hesitate, then a quieter, “Don’t you dare die on me, Lairos.”
A harsh laugh pushed between my lips.
“As my queen commands.”
The sound of Emme’s footsteps faded, replaced by the rush of water and the pounding of my own heart.
I pressed my forehead against the cold metal, allowing myself one moment of weakness.
One breath to steady myself.
The water had reached my knees.
My arm throbbed, blood still seeping from the deep gash.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, would be solved whimpering in a corner like a coward.
I turned.
Knights streamed through the far end of the corridor, weapons glinting between black and red with every flash of the emergency lights.
I counted six.
.
.
no, eight of the bastards.
More than I could take in close quarters with an aching arm.
“We have orders to take you to King Nedaris,” the lead Knight called.
Even from here, I could see his hand tightening on his weapon.
“He didn’t specify what condition you needed to arrive in.”
I raised an eyebrow at the title and command, channeling every ounce of royal disdain I could muster.
“Eight of you against one wounded man? I’m flattered.”
The Knight’s fist connected with my jaw before I could blink.
Pain exploded across my face as I staggered back, nearly losing my footing.
I spat blood and grinned.
“That the best you’ve got?”
Another blow drove the air from my lungs.
I doubled over, gasping.
Part of me itched to fight back, to tear these traitors limb from fucking limb.
But I couldn’t risk it.
Not yet.
I needed to see Nedaris.
Needed him to gloat over his victory.
It was the only way I stood a chance of saving my kingdom.
Of saving Emme.
So, I let them surround me.
Let them land a few more blows.
Just enough to look like I’d put up a fight without earning any real damage.
I’d survived worse during Vigas’s training.
This?
This was nothing.
The Knights dragged me through flooded corridors toward the training yard.
With each step, I sent a silent prayer to the depths that Emme had made it to the escape pods.
That she was safe.
The thought of her trapped in this sinking fortress, hunted by Nedaris and his fanatics.
.
.
No.
I couldn’t let myself go there.
She was smart.
Resourceful.
She’d find a way out.
She had to.
We emerged into the training yard, and my stomach turned.
Bodies littered the floor—soldiers I’d trained with, fought beside.
Good men and women who’d died defending their home.
Their king.
And there, standing in the center of it all, was Nedaris.
My crown sat askew on his head, like a child playing dress-up in clothes that didn’t fit.
Rage boiled in my veins, but I forced it down.
Locked it away behind a mask of casual indifference.
“Welcome, brother,” Nedaris said, spreading his arms wide.
“Welcome to New Delovia.”
“New Delovia?” I laughed.
The sound bounced off the walls, harsh and mocking and far, far too brittle.
“Is that what you’re calling this farce?”
Nedaris’s smug expression faltered.
Good.
Keep him off-balance.
“You stand there wearing a crown you haven’t earned,” I continued, injecting as much venom into my words as I could.
“Tell me, brother , have you completed the trials of succession? Have you proven yourself worthy before the sea dragon? Or are we forgetting all about that in,” I let off an obnoxious giggle, “New Delovia?”
Murmurs rippled through the gathered Knights.
I caught snippets of confusion, of doubt.
The seed was planted.
Now to water it.
“Our people have followed sacred tradition for generations,” I said, raising my voice to address the entire room.
“We’ve shed blood, sweat, and tears to prove ourselves worthy of the crown. And here stands a man who thinks he can simply take it by force.”
“The trials will be completed in due time.” Nedaris’s face flushed with anger.
“I am the rightful heir?—”
“To what?” I cut him off.
“A stolen throne? A broken kingdom? You haven’t earned the right to rule, Nedaris. You’re nothing but a pretender playing at being king.”
The Knights shifted uneasily, exchanging glances.
I pressed my advantage.
“In due time,” I repeated with a disappointed shake of my head.
I looked around, meeting the eyes of the Knights nearest to me.
“Ask yourselves this: do you truly want to follow a leader who disregards our most sacred traditions as mere formalities? Who spits in the face of everything we hold dear?”
Nedaris’s eyes darted around the room, seeing the doubt spreading among his followers.
I had him cornered now.
He could either accept my challenge and risk losing everything, refuse and look weak in front of his Knights, or try to execute me and break tradition entirely.
No matter what he chose, I’d win.
“You dare question my right to rule?” Nedaris snarled, taking a step toward me.
“I am the one who will restore our people to greatness! I am the one who will purge the waters of human filth!”
As if summoned by his words, the far door burst open.
Two Knights entered, dragging a struggling figure between them.
My heart stopped.
Emme.
Our eyes met across the room, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away.
She was alive.
Battered and soaked to the bone, but alive.
Relief warred with fury inside me.
I wanted to rush to her side, to tear apart anyone who dared lay a hand on her.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Nedaris’s triumphant grin made my skin crawl.
“Look who we found wandering the halls like a lost pet.”
“Fuck you,” Emme spat, earning her a backhanded slap from one of her captors.
The pain in my arm dulled to nothing compared to the white-hot rage roaring through me.
I struggled against my captors’ grip, heedless of the sparking, charged blade now pointed at my throat.
I would kill every last Knight in this room if that was what it took to save her.
Nedaris watched my struggle with undisguised delight.
“Here’s what will happen, brother . You will die. She will die. That ship in the sky will never land, and those animals will slowly suffocate. But down here? I will rule over all the seas and New Delovia will shine bright once more.”
He pulled a knife from his belt and twirled it casually.
“But I’m willing to make a deal. In exchange for her life, you can choose which order you want to die in. First, or second. Not very appealing choices, I know. But the offer’s limited.”
“Enough,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous.
“You want to prove you’re worthy of the crown, Nedaris? Then face me. Right here. Right now. I challenge you for the throne.”
For a moment, everyone was frozen, staring.
Then the hall erupted into shouts.
Cries of betrayal rang out alongside demands for justice.
And above it all, I could see Emme’s terrified gaze locked on mine.
I forced myself to smile.
To appear calm and in control, even as my heart pounded like a drumbeat in my ears.
There was no coming back from this.
Either I killed my brother, or I died trying.
“Unless,” I added, twisting the knife, “you’re afraid you can’t beat me without your loyal dogs to hold me down.”
That did it.
Nedaris’s face contorted with rage.
“Very well,” he spat.
“I accept your challenge.”
Relief and dread warred within me as the Knights formed a circle around us.
This was what I wanted, but now that it was happening, memories of my own trials flooded back.
The taste of blood in my mouth.
The ache of bruised ribs.
The weight of the crown as it was placed on my head.
Glimpses of my young brother between the packed bodies, head barely dusting their shoulders.
I remembered thinking he’d have been better suited trying to watch from between their legs.
A Knight approached with a practice sword.
The blunted steel was meant for training children.
No extra power sung into the blade, no pulses of energy.
Naked and true for ritual, but not a thing for combat.
My lip curled at the insult as I took it, leaning close enough to see sweat beading on the man’s temple.
“I’ll remember your help when I retake my throne.”
The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard before melting back into the crowd.
Good.
Let them all remember who the true king was and the wrath that would follow.
Nedaris handed my crown to one of his Knights and drew his own sword, testing its weight.
It was a ceremonial weapon, one carried by monarchs since Old Delovia’s founding.
Perfectly balanced for both defense and offense.
Light, flexible, and razor sharp.
And not used in combat in his entire lifetime.
“You remember the rules, brother?” I called, falling into a fighting stance.
“Or do you need someone to recite them for your New Delovians?”
“Of course,” he ground out, eyes narrowing as if trying to determine whether I’d offered insult or genuine question.
“First to disarm. Then we fight with fists until one of us yields or dies. No siren song allowed.”
I nodded.
Our father had been more fond of making enemies than friends, and many houses thought their time had come for a change in power.
Exhaustion had clung heavier and heavier as I faced challenger after challenger, each fight draining me further.
Now it was time to do it again.
Nedaris struck first, his blade whistling through the air.
I parried, and the impact added another nick to my practice sword.
Pain lanced up to my wounded shoulder, but I pushed it aside.
I couldn’t afford weakness now.
“All these years watching me,” I taunted, circling him, “and you still lead with your shoulder.”
His next attack came faster, a flurry of strikes that might have impressed the court sycophants but told me everything I needed to know.
My brother fought with textbook precision and not a drop of battlefield instinct or spontaneity.
I let him drive me back, step by calculated step.
Every retreat fed his confidence, every blocked strike made his eyes gleam brighter with anticipated victory.
Behind him, I caught glimpses of Emme’s face between the shifting bodies of the Knights.
Her eyes never left me, even as she tested the grip of her captors.
Smart woman.
Looking for flaws while everyone else watched the show.
Nedaris’s blade whistled past my ear, too close for comfort.
“Getting slow in your old age, brother?”
I grinned, tasting blood where my lip had split.
“Just giving the people what they want.”
His rhythm faltered at my casual tone.
I seized the opening, twisting inside his guard.
My shoulder slammed into his chest, sending him staggering back.
The Knights parted to avoid collision with their chosen ruler.
“The problem with you, Nedaris,” I said, voice pitched to carry, “is that you never understood what makes a king.”
I pressed forward, no longer retreating.
Each strike of my dulled weapon against his sharp blade sent vibrations up my arm.
The pain sharpened my focus to a knife’s edge.
“You think it’s about the crown.” My sword slammed into his, forcing him back another step.
“About sitting on a throne and having people bow to you.”
Nedaris snarled, abandoning technique for rage.
His blade slashed wildly, leaving his right side exposed.
I drove my elbow into his ribs, satisfaction surging as I heard the crack.
“It’s about sacrifice,” I continued, each word punctuated by a blow.
“About putting your people before yourself. Every. Single. Time.”
Sweat dripped into my eyes.
My wounded arm screamed in protest.
But Nedaris was tiring faster, unused to the brutal reality of real combat.
Vigas had beaten that lesson into me years ago.
I feinted left, then spun right, bringing my sword down on his wrist with all my strength.
The ceremonial blade clattered to the floor.
The hall fell silent.
Nedaris’s eyes darted to his fallen weapon, then back to me as understanding dawned.
The first stage was over.
I tossed my training sword aside and raised my fists.
“Ready for the next lesson, brother?”
He attacked with a roar, all technique abandoned.
His fist grazed my jaw as I twisted away, countering with a sharp jab to his throat.
He gagged, stumbling back.
“You see a throne,” I said, circling him.
“I see responsibility.”
His kick caught me in the side, sending pain lancing through my ribs.
I grunted but didn’t fall.
“You see subjects.” I drove my fist into his stomach.
“I see people who trust me with their lives.”
Blood and spittle flew from his mouth as he doubled over.
The Knights watched in silence, none daring to interfere with the sacred combat.
I grabbed his hair, yanking his head up to meet my eyes.
For a moment, I saw the brother I’d grown up with, the boy who’d followed me through the palace corridors, who’d once looked up to me before our father’s machinations turned us against each other.
“Yield, Nedaris,” I hissed, low enough for his ears only.
A plea.
“It doesn’t have to end with your death.”
For a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes.
Regret, maybe, or recognition of his defeat.
Then his gaze shifted past me, focusing on something beyond my shoulder.
Because that boy from my memory was gone, replaced by the man who’d ordered Stillwater destroyed to get to me.
“I will never yield to a king who beds animals,” he spat.
Before I could react, he twisted free and dove for his discarded sword.
But he didn’t lunge for me.
He lunged for Emme.
Time slowed to a crawl.
I saw the gleam of the blade as it arced toward her.
Saw the shock in her eyes as death came for her.
Saw my future—our future—about to be severed with one stroke.
No.
With a roar of fury, I leapt after him.
My hand closed around a fallen Knight’s blade.
Three steps.
Two.
One.
The sword entered Nedaris’s back with a sickening squelch, the tip erupting from his chest in a spray of crimson.
His momentum carried him forward another step before his legs gave out.
I twisted the blade, ensuring the wound was mortal.
No mercy.
Not for this.
Not for threatening my mate.
“You never understood,” I whispered as he slid off my blade.
“A king protects what’s his.”
Nedaris collapsed at Emme’s feet, eyes wide with shock as his lifeblood pooled beneath him.
The ceremonial sword slipped from his fingers with a dull clatter.
I met Emme’s gaze over my brother’s dying body.
No horror in her eyes, no judgment at what I’d done to protect her.
Just fierce satisfaction and a hunger that matched my own.
“Release her,” I ordered, my voice sharp enough to make the Knights holding Emme flinch.
They dropped their grip immediately, stepping back as she straightened her spine.
The Knight who held my crown swallowed hard and extended it with trembling hands, unable to meet my eyes.
“Commander,” I called to Vigas.
“Can we secure Stillwater?”
“We’re retaking it sector by sector, my king.” His gruff voice carried authority that had the remaining Knights shifting uneasily.
“Stillwater Hold is yours.”
Loyal guards shook themselves out of the grasp of stunned Knights.
Only a handful resisted, but when faced with unflinching determination from warriors they’d once trained alongside, the resistance crumbled.
“Good.” I settled the crown back where it belonged.
“Begin the executions at dawn.”
I guided Emme toward the exit, my hand pressed possessively against the small of her back.