Page 159 of The Queen’s Shadow

“If you thought Midasara was difficult to penetrate, it is nothing compared to The Court of Gluttony. Even if you are able to break through their defenses, it will take months for you to burn their court to the ground. Their court is nearly ten million square feet. That’s a great deal of surface area for even you to set fire to. For once, think with your head, and not the burning pit of rage that you seem to be possessed with.”

I couldn’t stand that someone I hated so much could see me so clearly. I hated even more how little I knew about The Dominion. Looking at the map before me, all The Courts looked so small. But ten million square feet was massive. It could have been a continent in its own right.

“Fine.” I snapped, turning to Dossidian and Conrad. “Pack your things and let’s get going. We’ll get Cerenah and Zayne their shadowstone weapons so they can continue to free the people of Midasara while we’re gone. Then, we’re heading to Wrath. I’m done waiting around.” With that, I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room.

Instead of heading back to the East Wing, I went straight to the training ring. Power seemed to be bleeding out from every one of my pores. The pain in my back was now a dull throb and I needed to let some of my pent-up energy out.

Zayne had been right. I needed to get a grip on myself. I was hanging on by a thread, and I knew it. I felt better that we at least had some semblance of a plan to get Amon back, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough until I had saved him.

Once he was safely back home, I was going to slaughter every fucking daemon that had laid a hand on him, starting with the Queen bitch herself.

Amon

The Siren’s voice tore me from my dream, and I mourned the loss of Raven’s consciousness as I tumbled back to reality, slamming into my broken body. Thanks to Nytara’s care, I had healed enough in my sleep to stand, though the skin on my back was tight and had barely managed to scab over. I knew if I moved too abruptly, the wounds would start to bleed again.

She met my gaze and we stared at each other for a long moment in silence. Though we both knew she had shown me an unnecessary measure of kindness the night before, thanking her felt inappropriate. What was bothering me, was that I couldn’t understand why. I glanced down to find that she was holding a large dark box, with a shining black bow on it. I frowned, my blood turning to ice in my veins.

Gifts were not a good sign. Wordlessly, she came forward and placed the box on the bed next to me, before stepping back, waiting for me to open it. I glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow, but she gave me nothing.

I sighed, then tugged the end of the silk ribbon, pulling apart the bow and lifting the lid. Inside was my restructium armor, along with a long black cape and two silver fastenings. They were not the ravens that I had worn in support of my mate’s claim to the throne for the past ninety years. They were serpents, representing The Court of Lust. They symbolized the snake in the story of Adam and Eve, when the serpent had convinced Eve to bite the apple. I had worn these when I had served as Ash Nevra’s Shadow, before my father was killed and I had inherited The Court of Pride.

“Do you need help?” Nytara asked and I shot her an annoyed look.

“That’s a loaded question.”

She let out a huff of air and if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought she was suppressing a laugh.

“Will you be able to get into it with your back…” she trailed off. We both knew my mobility was limited, and if I moved too much, I would tear open my barely healed wounds.

“I’ll be fine.” I said, standing up to put the armor on. Nytara hesitated, then nodded, and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She said curtly before shutting the door on the way out.

I would never admit it to her, but getting into the armor was a challenge without help. By the time she came back, I was dressed, with the cape sweeping at my booted ankles, but I could feel warm rivulets of blood sliding down my back beneath the restructium.

“I assume you’re not going to tell me why I’m wearing armor.” I asked dryly when Nytara returned. I knew whatever the reason, it would have something to do with the horrific colosseum Ash Nevra had built. However, even if I was meant to be the event’s entertainment, it felt counterproductive to give me so much protection against whatever it was she was planning on pitting me against. Even in my injured state, it would be difficult to wound or even torture me while I was wearing restructium. Especially if I was permitted to use my magick.

Nytara pursed her lips, her dark eyes as cold as always.

“The Queen wishes you to remember where you come from, and who you are.” She said and I frowned, not liking the sound of that. I hadn’t come from anywhere kind, and I had spent most of my life playing the part of a monster. Reminding me of either of those two things did not bode well for most.

Suddenly it hit me, and I clenched my fists at my sides. I could tell by the slight softening of The Siren’s features, that she knew I had figured it out.

“I thought I would enjoy it… watching you suffer.” She said softly. I stared at her, unable to respond as my mind succumbed to the dark vacuum of pain that I had managed to escape for those too-short 90 years. “In the beginning I was even excited to be a part of it.” She admitted.

Still reeling from my recent realization, I forced myself to school my expression into one of my many masks. Though, this was a mask I hadn’t worn in a long time.

“And how has the experience lived up to your expectations, Nytara? Are you enjoying the role of tormentor?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. When I met her gaze this time, it wasn’t through a mask of boredom or amusement. It was through The Eyes of the daemon I knew Ash Nevra was going to force me to be.

“No.” She replied, her voice as quiet as mine.

“How has it made you feel, Nytara?” My voice was icy now, and entirely devoid of any emotion. The coldness that spread through me was familiar. It felt as though I were revisiting a toxic habit that I had previously convinced myself I had overcome. There was dread, guilt and an undercurrent of shameful anticipation.

Briefly, I wondered if Raven were to see me now if she would recognize me. Because the person I needed to become, to do what I knew they were going to force me to do, was not someone who deserved to be loved.

“It makes me feel dirty.” Nytara whispered, as she watched my internal transformation take place. Even her cold mask wasn’t enough to hide the truth from me. She pitied me. I wondered, idly, at what point I had allowed myself to fall so low, that I deserved the pity of someone as wretched as The Siren.

Without another word, Nytara turned on her heel, and led the Queen’s Shadow into the blinding lights of the colosseum.