Page 11 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Madinia

I’m warm. So, so warm. And comfortable. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this comfortable, and I nestle closer to the heat, surrounding myself with it.

Warm, hard heat.

That heat spreads to my core, a slow blooming that makes me sigh. My nipples harden, and I shift to relieve the ache.

Someone groans, low and rough.

For the first time in years, I feel…safe. Relaxed.

I shift once more, nestling my face against warm skin.

“Beautiful woman, you need to wake up.”

I let out a sigh, my eyes heavy.

And then I’m on my back, my eyelids flying open as Calysian glowers down at me.

He’s leaning over my body, his mouth inches from mine. When he shifts, I feel him, hard and thick and hot between my thighs.

“What—”

“Playing with me, Madinia?” he purrs. “Using your wiles on me again?”

I blink up at him. “Again?”

“You know exactly what you did in that forest, you little witch.”

It takes me a moment to understand what he’s talking about.

Oh.

Convincing him to unchain me. Not to mention, I chained him first.

I smirk. “You made it too easy.”

A growl, and then his mouth is even closer.

“Don’t you dare,” I snap.

He smiles. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You’re giving me mixed messages.”

I freeze, stilling the roll of my hips and unclenching my fingers from where they’ve buried themselves in his hair.

Gods, I was grinding against him.

“I’m sure.” My voice is hoarse, and he gives me a knowing look as he rolls away.

I don’t mourn the loss of that huge body above me. Not at all.

It has been a long, long time since I was last with a man in that way. That man was rough with his hands and uninterested in my pleasure. He left with me an ache between my thighs and a heavy sense of disappointment.

If I’m honest, the disappointment wasn’t unexpected. Not once has a man ever lived up to my expectations.

But Calysian…

I’ve seen the looks women give him. They scan him from head to toe, taking in the predatory look in his eyes, the roll of his muscles as he moves. When women look at him, they think of sex. Hot, dangerous sex.

He might not just live up to my expectations. He might exceed them.

“I’m going to the farrier. I’ll meet you when I’m done.” Calysian shoves his shirt over his head, pushes his feet into his boots, and stalks out the door.

I shake my head. I’m not sure why he’s suddenly so emotional. Perhaps he’s worried about Fox.

The innkeeper brings our clothes upstairs and I shove them into our bags, tucking Calysian’s shirt into my own satchel. Not because it smells like him. He simply has more clothes than I do, and I need something to sleep in.

When I’m finished, I haul the bags downstairs, taking a seat in the tiny dining room where the innkeeper is serving breakfast.

Her face is pale and drawn, and her hand trembles when she pours my water.

“What’s wrong?”

She swallows. “All is well. You’ll be wanting to get on your way soon though.”

“Why?”

“Our spies say Vicana’s soldiers are on their way.”

I go still. “What do you mean?”

She gives me a trembling smile. “They came just a few months ago, and we fought them off. They killed three children and vowed to return. I’m sure they will bring more men with them this time.”

“Why does your king not help you?”

“I believe he considers this territory a lost cause. He sent soldiers, but only to protect the mines. He has suggested we leave . So the soldiers can focus on keeping the iron out of Vicana’s hands.”

Fury begins to burn in my gut, and she gives me a stiff nod.

“Four centuries we’ve lived here, farming the land.” She points out the window to a small, weathered house. “I was born in that house behind you, as was my mother and her mother before her. We’re simple people. We don’t matter to the king.”

I study the house. There are clear signs that Vicana’s soldiers were determined to cause as much destruction as possible during their last visit. The roof has collapsed, letting in the elements. And it’s evident from the scorch marks that the collapse wasn’t natural.

The innkeeper turns back to face me, and her eyes are wet. Lifting a hand, she wipes at them impatiently. A child toddles into the room, and the innkeeper transforms in front of my eyes, the way I’ve seen mothers tuck away their grief and pain countless times across four kingdoms. The deep line between her eyebrows smooths, and she wipes the last tear, pasting a smile onto her face.

“Good morning my darling,” she says as a child runs to her, wrapping his arms around her leg. She hoists him up, balancing him on one hip, and he wraps his arms around her neck, nuzzling into the gap between head and shoulder. “The children are scared,” she says grimly, beginning to sway slowly from side to side, her hand stroking down the boy’s tiny back. “Who could blame them?”

Calysian strides into the room, and the innkeeper turns to murmur to the boy.

“Fox is ready.” Calysian follows my gaze to the houses outside, but it’s as if he’s merely collecting information, and not as if he actually sees it. When I don’t move, he raises one eyebrow. “Madinia.”

“Vicana’s men are going to ride through here today and kill anyone who hasn’t left.”

He frowns. “Then these people need to leave.”

“This is their home.” He stares at me and I throw my hands in the air. “Clearly, I’m talking to the wrong person. I’ll ride back into Sylvarin and hire some mercenaries.”

Calysian gives me an affronted look. “You will not. Why should I care about these kinds of problems?”

Once, he did. Once, he fought with me to keep hybrids safe. The closer he gets to the grimoire, the more it dulls his humanity. I saw it in the way he spoke about Vicana’s activities in the disputed territory, and in the cool, remote way his eyes drifted past the destruction as if he didn’t truly see it. And yet I’m supposed to believe it won’t make him a monster?

I level him with a hard stare. “You want me to trust you enough to lead you to the grimoire?”

His voice turns cold. “You know I do, and you agreed to do exactly that.”

I continue as if he hasn’t spoken. “Then I need you to care about these kinds of problems. ”

“Why?”

“Because only one of us can be emotionally stunted, cynical, and detached. And I’ve got that covered.” I give him a humorless smile.

He ponders me. “That’s remarkably self-aware of you.”

“Are you going to help them or not? And remember, you have to actually care .”

Calysian gives me an indulgent smirk—the one that makes it clear he finds me adorable. It’s the kind of look he knows will irritate me.

It works. I barely suppress a snarl, and Calysian’s smirk widens. He’s pleased with himself.

Across the room, the innkeeper watches us, hope splashed across her face.

Calysian glances at her, and then back to me. With a roll of his eyes, he saunters out of the inn. I watch as he stands, feet spread, his hand shading his eyes from the sun as he scans the tiny village.

I let out a long breath.

The future is fluid. I refuse to believe Calysian is destined to burn down this world during his revenge. Maybe…maybe I can make him care about this world and the people in it. Maybe that will be enough to keep this world safe from his inevitable rage.

Or maybe I’m being remarkably na?ve.

At the very least, we can help these people and make Vicana’s soldiers think twice before they attempt to take the next village.

For now, that has to be enough.

Calysian

I kill every soldier who approaches the village.

Madinia doesn’t lift a finger. She merely watches with those sapphire eyes that see far too much. At one point when I glance in her direction, I catch her sharpening her nails.

When the soldiers are dead, and the villagers are collecting the bodies to bury, I stalk over to her, finding her speaking to the innkeeper. The woman beams at me, then hands Madinia a young boy to hold while she steps away to speak to a group of villagers.

Madinia and the boy stare at each other. Slowly, she holds out her arms in an attempt to hand him to me.

I step back, gesturing at the blood soaked into my shirt. “I need to bathe. You’re on your own, sweetheart.”

The boy reaches out and grabs a lock of Madinia’s hair, pulling viciously. She winces, narrowing her eyes at me.

I smirk. The few hours we were delayed were worth it just to watch Madinia attempt to wrestle her hair back from him, a hint of panic in her eyes. She mouths a dark curse at me, and I make my way back into the inn, where one of the innkeepers’ daughters brings me water, along with an offer to help me wash.

I accept the former, decline the offer of help, and by the time I make my way downstairs, Madinia is murmuring quietly with the innkeeper once more. The woman presses a sack of food into my hands. “Thank you.”

The gratitude discomforts me. Perhaps because I know if not for the flame-haired woman watching me so closely, I would have left these people to die.

We leave the villagers to their grim task of burying the dead, winding our way west through scrubland.

“You know the soldiers will return,” I say quietly.

Madinia’s mouth thins, but she gives me a stiff nod. “We’re no saviors. We bought them a little time, that’s all. Maybe not much, but enough.”

And yet she seems strangely content. My instincts fire. “Tell me you’re not planning what I think you’re planning.”

Her gaze darts away, even as her chin juts up. “I already helped kill one tyrant monarch. Vicana is no different.”

“Several factions and thousands of soldiers allowed you and your friends to get close enough to kill Regner,” I grind out. “How exactly do you think you’ll kill Vicana?”

She sends me a cool look before turning her attention forward. “What business is it of yours? You’ll have your little book, and my activities will be no business of yours.”

Your little book.

This woman. She knows exactly how to get under my skin.

A strange kind of panic takes up residence in my chest. I know Madinia Farrow. I’ve seen her at her most devastated, sprinting through the forest with a group of survivors. I’ve also seen her at her most unhinged, decorating her tower garden with various body parts, and using her thorns to kill anyone who dared approach.

Not once, since the moment I met her, has she ever backed down. If left to her own devices, she will be consumed by vengeance. She’ll stop at nothing to make Kyldare pay for each of the scars on her back, for each day she spent trapped within her own body.

And she’ll consider the loss of her own life worth it if she takes Vicana with her.

In the distance, scrubland thickens into forest. Within a few hours, the dry, rocky earth softens, the dusty wind replaced by the crisp scent of damp earth and greenery.

As I watch, Madinia dismounts her horse, collecting something from the dirt once more. She shoves it into her pocket before I can see what it is.

So many secrets. They intrigue me even as they make me crazy.

“You’ve certainly been busy,” a familiar male voice says. A hawk swoops down, landing lightly on my shoulder. Its sharp talons dig into my skin, and it tilts its head, watching Madinia with a keen, unsettling intelligence.

She’s already back on her horse, a throwing knife in her hand.

“Relax,” I sigh. “This is Eamonn.”

“Pleasure,” he says, ruffling his feathers and stretching one wing out lazily. Beneath me, Fox plods on, used to Eamonn’s antics in any form.

I’ve never seen Madinia speechless before. Her eyes are wide, stunned, and she casts Eammon a look that’s drenched in suspicion. “The bird can talk?”

“He takes many forms.”

“What is he?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, brushing a stray feather off my shoulder as Eamonn shifts his weight. “We met a few years ago when I returned to this continent.”

Madinia seems to accept this, but she drops back, allowing me to take the lead once more, clearly unwilling to have Eammon at her back.

“Suspicious little thing,” Eammon mutters.

“You have no idea.”

“I can hear you.” Madinia’s voice is haughty, and Eammon fluffs his feathers once more.

I can’t help but glance over my shoulder. Her long hair is pulled back into a braid, the sun dancing across the strands. She’s still regaining her stamina after so long in that tower, her face still pale, eyes dark with fatigue.

And even without my memories, I know she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

The thought hits me out of nowhere, and I shift in my saddle. Madinia frowns at me. “What is it?”

I clear my throat, turning to face forward once more. “Nothing.”

“I saw the bodies you left at that village,” Eammon says. “Do you really think it makes any difference?”

No. But Madinia does. And I played right into her hands when she told me she would hire mercenaries to help.

“It only cost us a few hours,” I say. “We’ve been making good time so far.”

“And where is it you’re heading?”

I clamp my teeth together, unwilling to admit that the vixen listening oh-so-quietly behind us has refused to tell me. “West.”

She snorts, and Eammon takes to the air. “I’ll go scout your surroundings.”

He’s gone in the next moment, and I find Madinia pondering the bird as he takes to the sky.

“He’s remarkably helpful,” she says. “Is he the reason you were able to free yourself from those chains?”

There’s a hint of amusement in her voice and I clench my teeth. I was forced to sleep against a tree until Eammon helped me, while Madinia merely had to ask me to free her, and I complied.

When I don’t reply, she lets out a laugh. It’s the first true laugh I’ve heard from her, and the sound makes the world seem brighter, sharper. It’s a warm caress that leaves me wanting more.

Scowling, I nudge Fox into a faster pace.

Madinia

“Multiple regiments.” Eammon calls, circling in tight, uneasy loops above us. “One of them must have traveled through the southern pass.”

Calysian slowly turns his head, meeting my eyes. “Is this a problem for us?”

“Yes.”

We’re heading southwest, through the disputed territory and across Telanthris. A grim reality settles into my bones. Vicana’s soldiers could beat us to the grimoire. A muscle twitches in Calysian’s jaw, and he glances up at Eamonn.

“Suggestions?”

“Slow them down.” Eamonn says, as if the answer is obvious. “But that won’t matter if you can’t survive the smaller regiment waiting to take you by surprise. You’ll reach that regiment within the hour.”

Calysian goes quiet. He doesn’t look at me, but I know what he’s thinking. By the time he finished killing the soldiers attacking the village this morning, his ward was flickering once more.

And that means his ward is likely to fall at some point against Vicana’s regiment of soldiers—who will wield both their own power…and fae iron.

Unease flickers through me. “The soldier who attacked us made it back to his superior. He told them we were coming this way.”

Calysian reaches into a saddlebag and withdraws his map. When he dismounts, Fox stomps a hoof, but the horse allows him to spread the map on his saddle.

“Show me,” Calysian says, and Eamonn lands next to the map. I guide Hope next to Fox, and one of his ears twitch.

“Don’t even think about it,” I tell the horse, turning my attention to the map. The regiment is perfectly positioned, waiting for us at the northern tip of the lake. If we attempt to avoid it, we’ll be forced to backtrack east along the shoreline, searching for a place to cross the wide river flowing down from the Lacana Mountains.

It would cost us so much time, the regiment that Vicana sent through the mountain pass would easily beat us to the grimoire.

“We have no choice but to face them,” Calysian says, swinging himself into the saddle. “Let’s go.”

Scattered brush has given way to tall, thin trees, branches mushrooming from the top of pale gray trunks. Sunlight filters through the canopy above our heads, shadows stretch long across the ground, and the muffled roar of rushing water grows louder and louder, until all I can hear is a steady crash where river meets lake.

We follow the shoreline, leaving the horses tied loosely so they can escape if needed. Calysian prowls toward the edge of the forest, silent as death, and I follow closely behind, my hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of my sword.

When he stops, I crouch behind him, peering around his shoulder. We’re positioned on a rocky overhang, about five footspans above the lake. The water glitters in the sunlight, and I shuffle back further from the edge. From here, we have a clear view, down the shoreline to the rocky outcrop jutting out along the water.

Kyldare has stationed his regiment behind a boulder cluster. My pulse thunders in my ears, my vision dimming until his face is all I can see.

Calysian goes still. “Why is he here? He’s the Queen’s right hand. He should be with the regiment closest to my grimoire.”

My mouth turns dry as Kyldare stalks back and forth, snarling something to one of his men. The solider glances over his shoulder, and Kyldare buries his hand in the soldier’s leather tunic, pulling him close as he continues his tirade. The soldier stammers something, his gaze darting nervously toward the tree line.

Calysian nudges my shoulder with his. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I escaped him.” My voice is flat, my face oddly numb. “Kyldare wants the grimoire, but he needs to make me pay. He’s been trying to break me for three years, and now I’m walking free.”

Something feral enters Calysian’s eyes, and his face turns cold.

Below us, the sound of the water clashes with the dark power pulsing through me. Now that I’m no longer trapped in my own body, the power is terrifying. And yet, if it builds within me enough—if I can access it again—I can finally make Kyldare pay for everything he has done to me.

A tall, beautiful blonde woman stands next to Kyldare, the hint of a smirk on her face. My heart leaps into my throat, even as my blood heats with rage. Slowly, Calysian turns to look at me. I lower my head. But it’s too late. He catches my chin, holding tight.

“Flames dance in your eyes.” He cuts his eyes to the woman next to Kyldare. “Who is she?”

“Kyldare’s witch. Her name is Bridin.”

His eyes sharpen. “She frightens you. Even more than Kyldare.”

“She should frighten you too,” I snap. “She can do things that defy the laws of power.” Things like trapping me in my own body and somehow keeping me alive without food or water for three years.

“Tell me what I need to know.” His voice is even, expression intent as he evaluates the threat.

“I…I’d never met a witch on my continent. I’m not sure if that’s because Regner’s barrier kept them out, or if they were able to hide their presence from him.”

My mind turns fuzzy as I’m assaulted by memories of Bridin following Kyldare’s commands. Fae, hybrids, humans…all of us are born with our power. But witches take their power through sacrifice to their god. White witches sacrifice from themselves, while black witches sacrifice others.

“Madinia.” Calysian’s voice is soft, and I blink, shoving the memories away. “Bridin is a black witch. She sacrifices animals often, humans occasionally, but she especially enjoys children.”

His eyes darken, and I nod. “She’s evil. And she can sense power. It’s one of the reasons why Kyldare began working with her in the first place. He thought she would be able to locate the grimoire. But she has never been able to find it, no matter how many people she sacrifices to her god.” I force myself to channel Calysian’s calm, focused evaluation of the situation. “The moment you use your ward, she’ll know we’re here.”

Calysian shrugs. “I’ve tussled with witches before.”

“She’s not just any witch. She’s a monster.”

Calysian turns away to study the regiment. I study Kyldare, basking in the feel of the grimoire as it slides tendrils of power toward me. The feel of that dark power is seductive, comforting and… terrifying.

I haven’t felt it since it helped me escape the tower. The fact that it’s now calling to me is as unnerving as it is comforting. It’s as if even the grimoire wants to watch Kyldare die.

A faint shimmer catches the light, a subtle distortion in the air near Bridin and Kyldare. It ripples, almost like steam rising from a pot, and Calysian stiffens, titling his head, eyes narrowing.

“What is it?”

“A trap. The witch has found a way to replicate my power, turning it against me. She may not know where the grimoire is, but she understands exactly how to use an unclaimed link to its power. You should go.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Leave. I’ll take care of this and find you when it’s done.”

Dread sinks into my gut like a stone and slowly expands, pushing against my lungs.

He pins me with a hard stare. “Go.”

“You heard him,” Eamonn says, and I jolt. He’s sitting in a branch above our heads, watching Kyldare.

“I don’t take orders from birds. Or gods.” I match Calysian’s glower with one of my own.

He heaves a sigh. “Is there anyone you do take orders from?”

“No.”

He shakes his head, but his eyes drop to my lips and linger. My heart thuds, my breath catches, and his eyes meet mine. They glitter with lust. And something that looks almost like…longing.

I open my mouth, but Calysian freezes, tension thrumming through his body.

A moment later I feel it too. The sudden pulse of power is invisible yet suffocating, as if the world itself is recoiling from Bridin’s evil. There’s no visible sign of anything wrong—no explosion or even a flash of light—and yet the dark power within me snarls, desperate for release.

They know we’re here.

Calysian whirls, his lip curled as he watches the soldiers. From within the ranks of Kyldare’s regiment, a bolt flies toward us, unnaturally fast, its path bending ever so slightly, as if guided by an unseen force. Calysian raises his hand and his ward appears, a glimmering silver wall.

The bolt travels directly through the ward. As if it’s not there.

Calysian shoves me down, moving with unnatural grace as his body shifts left.

I hit the ground, and the bolt slices into his neck, grazing his skin but not penetrating deeply. He lets out a low growl, seemingly unbothered, his body taut with readiness. And then his eyes roll up, his legs buckle, and he crumples backward, falling like a stone into the water below us with a heavy splash.

Eamonn lets out a shriek.

My eyes meet Kyldare’s. Even from here I can see his teeth bared in a grin as he points toward us. His soldiers charge up the coastline.

Ripping my gaze away, I wait for Calysian to surface. But he’s slipping deeper, the rippling surface of the lake closing over him. My heart thunders in my chest.

“What happened?” I demand.

“I don’t know,” Eamonn shrieks. “But he’s sinking.”

It doesn’t make sense. Calysian isn’t just strong—he’s frighteningly difficult to kill. It would take a lot more than a scratch with an iron arrow to bring him down. And yet he’s being dragged into the depths as though the lake itself has claimed him.

It can’t have him.

Eamonn swoops close to the surface of the water. “He’s drowning!”

I kick off my boots. “Perhaps if you squawk some more, you’ll annoy him into regaining consciousness.”

Outraged silence.

With a sigh, I jump from the overhang and plunge into the freezing water.