Page 79 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

~ MELEK ~

Valgorath City hummed with frenetic energy.

Yilan and I crouched in the shadows cast by the Palace Tower. We were both flattened at the top of the stone wall that circled the Coliseum, watching in awe as it seemed every Nephilim in Ebonreach gathered in such numbers they would soon spill out into the grounds.

They were here to see and hear their new King.

Gall.

I shook my head. Jannus had to be wrong.

But his messages—sent in code—were no longer questions for which he sought the answer.

They were assurances of fact. The last, received in Meyrath after being rousted by the Centaurs in Kyrion Vale, had left my blood cold.

I’d read it so many times I could recall it from memory.

~

All reports agree: Gall is heralded. The Continent believes.

You enter Valgorath as a Pretender, leading an insurrection.

Your enemies await you. Your allies prepare a place for you.

God come with you.

We win, or we die.

Be safe, Your Majesty.

- J

~

God, I hated it when he used the title, especially because he did it knowing it made my skin crawl. But there was not the time to curse my best friend and ally. My spy.

The hum and rumble of the crowd below swelled into a roar as the veil behind the stage was drawn back and a tall, sunny-complexioned Nephilim strode out dressed in an Imperial purple robe with slits on the back that left his wings free.

I would recognize Gall anywhere.

My son.

I shook my head and Yilan squeezed my hand.

In the bond, her grief surged along with frantic nerves.

She was looking for Istral. We’d only been in the City for a day, but hadn’t yet caught sight of her sister.

Though Jann had seen her more than once and said she was healthy, they’d barely spoken. Yilan was beside herself.

Then, as Gall made it to the front of the stage and the crowd’s roar threatened to deafen us, a group of men emerged behind him. His Advisors.

With Jann among them.

Yilan sucked in and I blinked.

He had Diadre at his side, dressed as a slave. And openly leashed.

I felt the prickle of unease and anger starting in my mate, and squeezed her hand.

‘It’s subterfuge. We’ve done it ourselves.’ I sent her a memory of the moment she’d bound herself on my bed when Gault entered and I’d covered her nakedness with my wing.

‘I tied myself, Melek. It’s not the same at all.’

I sighed and squeezed her hand again. This wasn’t the time for the argument. Things had been tense between her and Jann ever since she drugged me. I was looking forward to the day when this was all done with and we could live our lives.

I’d throw them in a cell together and lock the door until they both learned to play nice.

Gall waved at the crowd, one hand high, even bouncing on his toes. My chest pinched. How was it possible that he was himself and yet had been the hand behind all these atrocities?

The stories crossed the continent and we gathered them like breadcrumbs left in the wake of a meal. At first I’d refused to believe that the real Gall had anything to do with any of these tales of torment and murder.

But the further we traveled and the more we heard—both within the cities, and from Jann—the clearer the picture became.

Today I had prayed it wouldn’t be my son that I saw on this stage.

Yet… here he was.

Exuberant. Overstimulated. Bristling with childish pride as he walked back and forth on the edge of the stage, waving, and receiving the applause of the people.

And it was only then that I wondered…

Would Gall, who had always been drawn by false friendship have given himself to cruelty to receive the approval of the powerful?

Even the thought made me ill. But before I could pick it apart, Gall raised his hands for quiet, that thick, purple robe fluttering behind him, along with his wings. And the crowd settled.

The Advisors and General Jannus spread out in a half-circle behind him, all of them dressed in their finest. And there was no mistaking that they made an imposing scene.

Gall, handsome, chin high, and eyes bright, his already large body—which seemed even larger now, though it had only been a month or two since I’d seen him—and his warrior’s length swinging around his shoulders, which was impossible.

Behind him, the tallest, strongest, smartest Nephilim in the Kingdom.

The men of power and wealth. Even those who weren’t military held themselves with the confidence of true power.

The power of men who were listened to when they spoke.

And somehow, their presence didn’t make Gall smaller. It… raised him up.

“What the fuck is going on?” I muttered.

Yilan squeezed my hand again.

Then Gall spoke, and the acoustics of the Coliseum lifted his voice into the night so it could be heard easily, even by us.

“Nephilim, I greet you. I am Gallus Dann Falcyon. I am the Heir of Gaultes Falcyon, the closest in bloodline to the Fallen. And I am your King!”

As the crowd roared again, and Gall pumped a fist to the sky like a child thrilled by a game, I froze.

He’d taken Gault’s name?

Yilan whispered a curse, but the crowd was quieting again, the energy in the air crackling with anticipation—and tension. There was a reason Gall had called this audience. And why Yilan and I had abandoned plans to wait longer with the army and come to Valgorath alone in reconnaissance.

Gall had made it known he would prove his claim to the throne once and for all. Everyone was coming to see that.

Gall dropped his arm and waited for the crowd to quiet again…

and it was like watching him draw a blanket around himself.

The excited smile faded to be replaced with cool detachment.

And when he spoke, his tone lacked either the self-conscious anxiety or thoughtless exuberance that I was always accustomed to from him.

He sounded… stern.

“I have heard your whispers. You cheer me on parade, then question my rule in my absence. You say you fear me, then defy me at every turn. You celebrate my victory, then listen to my enemies and draw back when my back is turned. You know who I am. You know my claim to the crown. Yet you still demand that I prove myself to you. I have been doubted at every step and I will. Not. Accept it. Anymore.” He went still, glaring at the crowd, then roared, “You brought this on yourself!”

There was a moment of confusion, some nervous laughter that was quickly shushed, and the tension in the Coliseum coiled tighter.

Gall turned on his heel, prowling across the stage, his eyes narrowed to slits. The robe, along with his wings, made him seem to swell.

He had grown since he left me—or it was the presence he now carried, the one I feared had made this shift in him. However it had happened, my son carried more than a title. As he stormed across that stage, he pressed himself on those watching, even at the back.

My blood ran cold.

“You think I don’t know your true thoughts?

” he hissed as if they were in conversation.

“You think I cannot draw your rebellion out of you like pus from a wound? Raise your hand if you believe I have not heard your laughter behind closed doors. Stand up and own your shit, you who call me a fool, when the fool is you!”

He whirled then, one hand snapping up to point towards his Advisors and my heart stopped.

For a split second I was certain he’d discovered Jann’s subterfuge.

Until a tall, trim Neph standing two down from Jann in the blue robe of a merchant made a high, strangled cry unlike I’d ever heard and the crowd gasped.

His eyes bulged and his hands scrabbled at his throat, while Gall merely pointed.

A moment later, Gall beckoned with that same finger, and the man—whose face was now beet red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish—pitched forward. No one touched him. Not a hand or body was raised. Yet he stumbled toward Gall like he’d been yanked on a rope.

He shook and twisted, blood smearing on his neck and hands as he tried desperately to claw free from an unseen noose tightening around his throat.

“I have been the subject of ridicule, and doubt every day of my life. That existence is now behind me!” Gall hissed then pointed to the stage and the man fell to his knees at Gall’s feet.

The low murmur of the crowd ceased as that crackling energy increased. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

“No more whispers. No more lies. You’ve questioned me for too long. Now is the time to speak. Breathe, you bastard, and tell your brothers the name of the King you whisper when you believe no one can hear.”

The man slumped, hands to the stage, his back arching with the force of the gasp as he drew breath for the first time, drops of blood spattering to the stage as he gulped at the air.

“Speak it!” Gall snapped.

“Melek!” the man croaked, his voice echoing around the Coliseum.

The crowd murmured and whispered, the advisors looking back and forth between each other, but Gall only took the step to put his feet under the man’s chin and glared down at him.

“Say it again,” he snarled.

“Melek,” the man croaked, shaking his head as if the word was torn from him against his will. My heart turned to lead. Yilan leaned into my side sending a rush of love and reassurance through the bond. “I believe… Melek is the… true… King. He conquered the… the continent and— argh!”

“I was there when the Centaurs gave up their bows,” Gall snarled through gritted teeth. “I watched as the lizards shrank back into hiding. I witnessed the wizards’ and the pigs’ defeat, and still you worship the name of the asshole who stole me from my father?!”

The man continued to shake his head frantically, to deny the accusation, but that invisible thread compressed his neck again and he had no air to speak.

Gall leaned down putting the pad of one finger under his chin and lifting it like a man to a child.

The man looked up, pleading, his eyes bloodshot and face purple, gasping.