Page 50 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)
~ MELEK ~
“No, Melek!” Yilan shrieked as I rushed forward, throwing images into my head of him taunting me, intending to distract.
And she was right, I realized, as Gault met my flurry, calmly twisting to block my spear, then whirling aside. Now we made a triangle—Yilan behind the bed, me a few feet from its foot, and Gault on the opposite side, his back to the tent entrance.
“You were always just one step from betrayal,” Gault snarled, panting harshly, though his limbs had not slowed, and his eyes were gleaming with bloodlust and smug satisfaction. “I knew they were wrong about you—even if I lose this, you will not win, Melek. They will see your true colors.”
The rage in me blistered my skin. I wanted to rush him, but Yilan was shaking her head, her eyes on Gault as she stood, half crouched, appearing to try to hide her nakedness from him. She held one hand raised towards me in warning, the other hanging down near her knee as if to balance.
I would have bet my life that below the level of the bed she now held a dagger.
She glanced at me once, fear and admiration in her gaze, and my chest swelled with pride in her courage as she nodded.
We would advance together.
Yilan sent me an image—her leaping onto the bed like a cat, unconcerned with her nudity, a dagger flashing in the light of the lanterns as I rushed forward from his other side. Force him to fight us both at the same time.
But as we turned and she sucked in a breath, before either of us had advanced, Gault bellowed like a butchered beast, and his eyes went wide. He clutched at his stomach and his sword clattered to the dirt.
I was confused until a spearhead appeared, blooming from his stomach and through his hands like a deadly sapling reaching through the earth for sunlight, and a ragged voice screamed, “You have no right!”
Gault’s face twisted between fear and rage, but his hands were pinned to his stomach by the spear now piercing him through.
Writhing and roaring, he fell forward to the dirt, revealing Gall behind him. Pale, shaking, tears running down his face, Gall yanked the spear out of the King, then turned it in his grip, holding it up then plunging it back down and into Gault’s back again, screaming.
And Gault, who’d been twitching, roaring, shaking, went very, very still. His eyes still blinked, his mouth opening and closing… but then blood poured from his mouth and he coughed, spitting it, spraying the bed, my legs, and the ground in front of him.
His eyes rolled and his head was craned back, but his body didn’t move.
We all froze, staring at him, gaping like a dying fish.
“Melek, get Gall!” Yilan cried as she clambered over the bed and yanked Gault's head up by the hair.
He stared her in the face, pain and rage burning in his eyes and she spat on him. “You deserve this, you fucking pig,” she hissed, then laid her blade to his throat as she leaned into his ear. “Die knowing that I am going to eat your testicles—fried. Your royal seed will die in the body of your enemy you sick fuck.” Then as he gave a hoarse roar, she leaned back and drew that blade through his skin so that his lifeblood surged, soaking her legs, the dirt, and even parts of the bed beyond her.
She didn’t flinch, but she made a strange growling noise as she continued the cut until he was half-decapitated. Then she cursed and threw his face into the dirt—muddy with his own blood—as she staggered back.
I was staring at her, admiration, fear, grief, and relief rushing through me. But then a shadow moved, and it was instinct. Reflex. Because we’d both almost died and now something was coming for her—I charged, leaping for her, tackling her, shoving her aside and rolling back to my feet with the spear up, and— Holy shit!
With a strangled cry, I threw the spear aside, and threw myself to the ground, just as Gall leaped at me, screaming.
“Stop touching her! Stop hurting her!”
“No, Gall!” I screamed and my soul almost left my chest when time slowed, and I saw Yilan, gasping, throwing herself between me and that spear.
I grunted with the effort to reach for her, to throw her aside, but I was too late.
There was a cry, and a clatter, a groan and a scuffle. I pushed to my feet, my vision blurred and head spinning in confusion.
Where was she? Where was she?
Then everything stopped.
“Melek… Melek. I’m fine!” she gasped, panting.
I blinked once, then again, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Gault on the floor, dead, his skin already gray.
Gall on his side, cheeks dirty and tracked with tears, eyes wide and hands clasped on the thin forearm that was wrapped around his throat.
And Yilan, grappling, clinging to his back like a monkey, only cutting off his air when he started to rise, whispering in his ear, her face pressed to his hair, and tears on her cheeks as well as she murmured over and over again, trying to get him to listen.
“It’s okay, Gall. I’m okay. You did good. You did so good. Melek didn’t hurt me. He never hurt me. It was only the King. Only the King, I promise… shhhhh…”
Gall struggled and gaped, his eyes rolling. He was overstimulated and afraid, and I was torn, yearning to hold my mate, to take her from all of this, to cover and protect her… and aching for my son. Knowing what he thought and why he was angry, flabbergasted by his courage, and so, so sad, because even when it was done in defense… the taking of a life never passed without leaving a stain on our hearts.
I was crouching on the ground, trying to reach for him, but he writhed every time my hand got close, then Yilan would be forced to cut off his air again until he stopped.
I sat down hard, watching both of them, on the edge of tears, as I realized I was only making things worse by trying to help. And so I was forced to watch my mate slowly, slowly murmur to my son, get him thinking again, get him listening.
And slowly, he started to breathe, though his breath hitched again and again. His tears rushing, rolling down his face and his chin trembling.
But he stopped fighting her.
“Why?” he coughed. “Why would you defend him? Why would you let him—”
“That’s not what’s happening, Gall. I give you my word. I told you… I will never lie to you, or hurt you. We are not enemies, remember?”
“But you said he was!”
Yilan’s eyes closed and she laid her cheek against his hair. She still had him in a grip, her legs locked around him. Her arm in place at his throat… He couldn’t get up without her releasing him. And yet…
She was hugging him.
“Gall, that was true when I said it. But things have changed. Melek and I… we’re protecting each other.”
His eyes flew open then and found mine—accusing. “ This is protection?”
I sighed, shaking my head. “Gall… it’s complicated—”
His entire body spasmed and his face went red as he screamed. “IT IS NOT TOO COMPLICATED! I CAN UNDERSTAND!”
Yilan sobbed, but swallowed it back, teary, holding him as he cried and struggled again.
But he was past hearing me. He trembled from head to toe.
I’d seen him overstimulated before. I’d seen him break down in fear or hurt. But this…
He was falling apart.
“Gall, please…” I begged.
“It’s my fault, Gall. I didn’t explain as things changed,” she whispered. “I know that’s confusing, but I need you to trust me. Melek is the father you always knew. He is a good man. There are things going on here that you don’t understand, but they’re good—
Gall roared and threw his arm wide. Using his elbow to leverage and throw them both over, Yilan shrieked and tried to cut off his air again—to still him—but because she’d been embracing him, her positioning was off.
“I UNDERSTAND MORE THAN YOU THINK! I AM NOT STUPID!”
With a roar, he flipped her over, his weight crushing her for a moment so she wheezed, and in that second her defenses were down, he ripped her arm from his neck.
I leaped to my feet towards them, ready to pull him away from her, but he already had his hand on the spear that had been thrown aside and he was rolling up, his training kicking in as he pushed to his feet with the weapon in place… and pointed at Yilan.
His mouth was open, his breath coming in harsh puffs. His eyes darted from her to me, but neither of us was close enough now to get a hand on that weapon before he could throw it or bring it to bear.
I stayed half-crouched, hands up in surrender, but started inching towards Yilan, so I could at least make myself his primary target instead of her.
“Gall… she isn’t lying to you—”
“SHUT UP!”
I snapped my mouth closed, but took another half-step closer to her.
“Stop moving! Stop, or I’ll hurt her!”
I did as he said, but shook my head, let him see my grief. “I’m sorry, Gall. I’m so sorry. I know this is frightening. I’m sorry I scared you. It was a ploy… to stop the others coming for her—”
“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!” he screamed so hard he spit and his head shook.
Then, in a moment that would always break my heart, he took one hand from the spear and started hitting himself in the head. “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”
Yilan gave a little cry and covered her mouth with her hands. “Gall, please—”
“Leave me alone! Both of you,” he rasped, shaking his head and backing away. “Leave me alone. You’re liars and…. And monsters.”
“No,” I breathed. “Son, I—”
But his head whipped to me and his eyes, bloodshot and shining with tears, spoke every accusation his mind could conjure.
“My father is dead,” he hissed, and a tremor rocked through his body. “And I’ll kill you too, if I have to. You’re all just horrible, selfish, rapists who—”
“Gall… she’s my mate.”
His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He gaped at me, then at Yilan—who nodded, her hands still pressed over her mouth.
“We didn’t know, Gall. I’m so sorry. We didn’t know at the beginning. But it was all—”
He threw the bloodstained spear aside like it was a serpent. I leaped between him and Yilan, hands up, but the spear clattered benignly to the packed dirt, and he turned, stumbling away, out of the tent.
“Gall… Gall!” I called after him, gathering Yilan into my arms.
But she shushed me, and held me as I watched my son reeling away.
And then he was gone, and we held each other. So tightly neither of us could easily breathe. And then tighter still. Trembling from head to foot.