Page 42 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

Kat

Smoke curled thickly in the air, the stench of body odour mixing with the reek of tobacco.

Rowdy men from the docks wearing flat caps with rolled up sleeves sat on benches below, sipping from flasks, wedged around the fighting pit.

Small messenger boys shook bags of nuts or betting slips frantically trying to catch a buyer’s attention.

Then there was the ethereal faded flicker of white light in the shadowed corners. Spectres lingering. Fey that had died here. Probably in that very fighting pit.

Damn Emrys.

I curled my hands more tightly around the viewing rail on the second floor. A box Lady Ramsey had moved us to after Emrys had vanished to play his part in this awful, stupid plan.

‘Stop fretting,’ Gideon ordered from where he leant next to me against a pillar covered in peeling, floral wallpaper. Emrys’s coat slung over his arm for safekeeping.

‘Follow your own advice,’ I snapped back, unbothered about keeping my voice down. ‘You don’t have to kiss anyone.’

Gideon let out a grunt of amusement, but his eyes remained fixed on the ring below.

‘Emrys has had worse fights than this. For far lesser stakes,’ He offered. Making me wonder if those words were to comfort me or himself.

‘ He failed to mention that .’ I bristled, sounding more like a perturbed alley cat in my annoyance.

‘He didn’t get the Council to fear him by writing incantation papers and chasing ghosts,’ Gideon added as he watched the waiting crowd gather before turning to where Sigrid counted betting slips in the corner of the room. ‘Put one hundred on Emrys knocking him out first round.’

Lady Ramsey smiled, stirring her tea where she sat in an extravagant wing-backed chair. Unbothered by all the chaos she’d created.

‘ You’re absurd ,’ I hissed, unable to believe he was encouraging this. Mirocs were dangerous. Especially ones that apparently loved beating other fey to death in that very ring for coin.

‘You’re right.’ Gideon frowned, turning back to Sigrid. ‘Make it five hundred.’

If I didn’t have more restraint I would have hit him. Instead, I tightened my grip on the rail and tried to find some patience. This was mostly my fault after all – my foolishness setting us on this path.

There was a roar from the crowd as the first fighter appeared.

The miroc and my apprehension began to spiral.

Emrys was an imposing form, but the miroc was a huge hulking mass as he entered the fighting pit, stomping hooves covered in coarse blonde hair just like most of his bare barrel-like chest. His horns were short and sharp.

The ends tipped with silver studs that did little to calm my dread.

Gideon went tense. Finally, he was taking this seriously. His energy seemed to crackle around him. Making the hairs on my neck stand on end.

‘Now you decide—’ I began but he was already turning.

‘ You bitch ,’ he seethed. Aether practically vibrating off him as he glowered at Lady Ramsey. Sigrid moving forwards to block his path.

‘Watch your tongue,’ Sigrid snapped, hand moving to her blade.

‘That’s Regus ,’ Gideon spat the name, aether curling up his arms, making his eyes glow.

‘Never agree to a bargain until you’ve read the fine print.’ Lady Ramsey continued to sip her tea as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

‘Who?’ I frowned, my eyes moving from the ring and back to our suddenly tense gathering.

‘The Countess’s fighter.’ Gideon tugged his fingers through his golden hair in frustration. ‘Which means she’s here, doesn’t it, Priscilla ?’

Fear clawed at my insides. My gaze shooting to the other viewing balconies that faced this one. But I couldn’t see anyone. And down below, the crowd was pressed too tightly together.

Beware the witch that bargains in blood. For those she takes never return as they were. Puppets on a monster’s string.

‘Why?’ Gideon demanded, coming to stand before me, blocking me as if the room was suddenly filled with nothing but threats. As if he wanted to pace like a manticore protecting territory.

‘Because she can fucking do whatever she wishes, especially now Montagor has removed the only defence keeping her at bay,’ Sigrid challenged.

The Council. The Countess wasn’t brazen enough to start a war, but if given the opportunity …

‘Emrys asked for this meeting,’ Lady Ramsey snapped, her cool composure dissolving. ‘His timing is as poor as ever. You came to me , Gideon. That miroc beast has killed good fey for sport. All for her to teach me a lesson.’

Because Lady Ramsey offered fey a different choice. A choice the Countess didn’t wish for fey to possess. Not if they could be of use to her. The Reavers didn’t prioritise ancient and more powerful blood, no … they treated everyone equal. Mortal, fey and lesser beings.

‘You could have warned us.’ Gideon’s temper didn’t waver, yet I could hear the hesitation in his voice. His reluctant understanding.

‘What warning did we have?’ the Lady scoffed, sadness burning in her golden eyes. ‘Favours have a price, Gideon.’

‘I’m aware of slipping into bed with vipers, Priscilla,’ he replied, but the words weren’t as cold as he intended.

A useful pawn in all this madness. A willing traitor, an easy whore and a brutal killer. The memory of Emrys’s admissions settling uneasily inside of me. The things they’d been forced to do to win. And now how fleeting that victory and peace were as we verged on the abyss of another war.

‘If you think I invited that blood-bitch here to kill my fighters for her own perversions … you’re very much mistaken. Our rations dwindle. The border crossings grow more deadly … and my Reavers pay the price. She wants these lands and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them.’

Despite the pain in her words, it didn’t settle the sharpness of Gideon’s aether.

‘Kat.’ He reached for me, as if his only priority was seeing me out of that room.

‘You’re not leaving, Gideon,’ Sigrid commented from where she blocked the door. Making him pause. His hands curling into a fist. The metal at his joints creaking. ‘Bargains are to be kept.’

We needed what Lady Ramsey knew. We needed her help. Emrys knew that – it was why he was down there. Why he’d sought to come here at all. Something only she could give us.

I glanced at Gideon, seeing a muscle tense in his jaw as he kept his eyes on the ring below. He knew that too.

An excited roar came from below, bringing my attention back over the balcony as Emrys entered the fighting pit. Bare chested, his eyes dark as pitch with focus.

The miroc male grinned, raising his meaty fists to rile the crowd up further. Yet, I was more focused on the broad set of Emrys’s shoulders, how he turned revealing the defined muscle, the path those scars made down to the low rise of his trousers. A path I’d followed with my very fingertips.

Behave . I flushed, curling my hands tighter around the railing. Feeling shamed at the strange heat flashing through me. It wasn’t the time nor the place to be distracted by the temptation of Emrys.

Not when he was about to get pummelled by a miroc for an old coin and the barest hope it could lead us to where we needed to go. Not when the Countess was here somewhere. Watching this disaster too.

‘I can’t imagine the Countess is pleased about your numbers, nor the territory you’ve secured,’ Gideon pressed, making me reluctantly turn my attention back to Lady Ramsey.

‘She isn’t,’ Sigrid answered, considering Gideon like the threat he was despite the finery he wore. ‘She’s been quite keen on handing over any Reavers she catches right into the hunter’s claws.’

Horror swooped through me at the thought. Of what happened to rebels caught by the Council hunters. Staged hangings as magic-mad lunatics wishing to disturb the Council’s peace.

‘They’re on the same side,’ I reasoned. Why couldn’t they see that?

‘Are they?’ Lady Ramsey tilted her head in contemplation as she took another sip of her tea and another roar of excitement erupted below. ‘When the rebellion wins, who do you think will rule?’

Fear bloomed inside of me at the thought.

The reality I’d ignored. What my father had warned me of.

Why he’d woven the rebellion so tightly into his cautionary tales.

Why so many fey were hesitant to challenge the Council’s control.

If the Council were gone, they’d only be feeding themselves to a worse beast if the tales were to be believed.

The Countess. A witch who bound her members with blood and lies. Who used them as a child would dolls in a playhouse. Who saw only a very select few as valuable. Mortals were nothing but parasites. Lesser fey only a disappointment to be left to rot. Mixed bloods like myself something to be purged.

‘And the Reavers?’ I asked, unashamed of the challenge in my voice.

‘We’ve been allies to the mortals for centuries. We’re striving for a true republic. No blood oaths,’ the Lady continued, giving me mercy from her attention. ‘Superiority and ancient blood have led us to our ruin too many times.’

‘That’s a fairy tale.’ Gideon’s face was stern as he continued to watch the ring below. Flinching slightly as his jaw tensed, almost making me turn to see what had happened.

Then Sigrid stood taller, a softness coming to her features as she met Gideon’s stare. ‘Emmaline believed in it.’

A light went out in Gideon’s eyes. His face nothing but a cold mask. Hiding every emotion beneath it. Emmaline. Their sister knew these people. Despite the fact she was fighting for the other side.

‘Look where it got her,’ he replied. Voice so empty and cold it didn’t sound like his own.

Bound to the Countess as Emrys had said. Bound until she was dead.

A sadness seemed to ripple across the Lady’s features. Softening her for the barest moment. ‘She’d hate to see it torment you so.’

‘Then she should have been less fucking reckless,’ Gideon snapped but it was tinged with pain. A younger brother who missed his sister.