Page 7 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Madinia

I may not care about much, but even I don’t want to watch the dark god destroy this world. So I lead Calysian south from the entrance I used to the city, before heading east and then north.

Neither of us speak. I bury my rage beneath grim determination.

And only one of us is surprised when we stumble upon the troll.

It crashes through the trees, its hulking form towering over us, swiping massive, club-like arms through the air. Just one hit with one of those boat-sized hands, and we’re dead.

At least I am. Calysian is likely very difficult to kill. I shoot him a filthy look, which he ignores.

The horses jolt backward, Hope lets out a shriek.

The troll roars, deep and guttural, displaying a row of blunt teeth as it lumbers toward us. Its gray, mottled face is thick with patches of rough fur, and its eyes—small, dull, and deeply set in its oversized head—gleam with territorial fury.

Calysian freezes for half a second, clearly surprised.

I hold up my arms. “Free me so I can defend myself.”

He gives me a patronizing look. “I’ll defend you.”

I barely suppress a smile as he jumps from the horse. I slide down, sidling away. Calysian gives me a warning look, but I’m not stupid enough to run.

I have other plans in place.

He ponders the troll, which takes another step, the ground shuddering beneath us.

The troll angles his head, clearly confused when Calysian doesn’t retreat. Its beady eyes narrow, and it takes another step, out of the forest.

I slam my eyes shut.

The troll is a male. And it’s naked.

It lets out another roar, and I trip backward, falling on my ass. Calysian holds his ground, raising his hands. A strange crackle fills the air, as if lightning is about to strike. The hair stands up on the back of my neck, and I wiggle to my knees, cursing the chains holding my arms behind me.

Calysian turns slightly, and his face is grim, feral. For the first time, he looks truly dangerous. Heat rolls off him. Heat, and something darker.

My stomach churns. He really is a god. To the gods, even the fae are expendable. And hybrids? Our lives would be the equivalent of an ant, carelessly crushed beneath their feet.

And still, even knowing how dangerous he is, how he could ruin this world, ruin me …I can’t take my eyes off his wide shoulders. I can’t stop watching the way he carelessly swings his sword, warming up his wrist.

Clearly, the moment I free myself, I’ll need to find a man so I can release some of this tension.

He watches the troll with idle resignation, as if this is a training exercise he wasn’t planning to complete today…and now he needs to get it out of the way so he can do something more interesting.

I awkwardly get to my feet, my wrists aching.

“Two lumbering oafs,” I muse. “I know which one I’d rather spend my time with.”

Calysian sends me a quelling look and I scowl back at him.

The troll lumbers forward once more, and a silver ward appears between them.

Ignoring the memories that itch at the corner of my mind, I keep my gaze on the ward Calysian creates between him and the troll. Even he can’t hold that kind of ward forever.

The troll leaps, hitting the ward with its face. The sound it makes is somewhere between a howl and a scream so loud, I wish I could slam my hands over my ears.

Calysian keeps the ward in place, and the troll hits it again and again. Calysian winces, the ward flickering, and I smirk.

It’s a smart choice, letting the troll wear itself out. It doesn’t understand why it can’t get to Calysian, and the ward enrages it, distracting it from Calysian as he waits.

The ward flickers once more, until Calysian is forced to drop it. The troll stumbles forward.

Calysian moves .

Lunging toward the troll, he thrusts his sword into its thigh. The troll lets out another howl, lashing out with his fist, but Calysian has already leapt back, raising his ward into place once more.

I blink. The entire thing happened within moments, his movements blazingly fast.

I almost feel sorry for the troll as Calysian repeats his technique over and over. By the time the troll slumps to his knees, it’s bleeding from both thighs.

“Leave it,” I order. The words are out before I can stifle them, and Calysian spares me a single glance.

“You know I can’t.”

Because the next people who stumble across the troll might be a young family.

I glance away as Calysian takes the troll’s head. He stalks toward me, pausing to wipe his blade on some long grass, and I step backward.

His shirt is painted red, drenched in enough blood that it squelches as he moves. I wrinkle my nose, and he glances down with a sigh.

“Come on then.”

With no other choice, I follow him to a nearby stream, attempting to ignore him as he removes his shirt, swirling it through the water before using it to wipe at the blood covering his torso.

Corded muscle. Smooth skin. A light scattering of hair. Several scars, that only serve to highlight his beauty.

Even the way he moves is saturated in predatory confidence. When his eyes lock with mine, I glower at him, careful not to allow him to catch my gaze drifting down.

His mouth twitches, and I turn away.

“Are you thirsty?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I can’t have my captive suffering.”

“If you cared about my suffering, you’d remove these chains.”

“I would if you could be trusted, Madinia.” His voice is almost…gentle.

I ignore him, stalking back toward the horses. “I want to ride my own horse.”

“No.”

I grind my teeth as Calysian follows me, taking my waist and easily hauling me onto his shoulder. With my arms clamped behind my back, I can’t even slap at him.

I’m entirely helpless.

The demon horse snaps his teeth at us as we approach, and Calysian tuts at him.

“Why force me to ride with you?” I grind out.

“We both know that riding with your hands tied behind you would require more abdominal and thigh strength than you currently have. And if your horse spooks, you’ll get hurt.”

His hands find my waist once more and he transfers me onto the saddle.

My teeth clench at the easy way he maneuvers my body. “Then release me.”

“Enough.” Calysian’s voice hardens and he swings himself up into the saddle behind me.

When he leans forward to take the reins, he smells cool and fresh.

“I hate you.”

“Well, sweetheart, I’m currently not too fond of you either.”

My eyes burn at the injustice. If I had a sword in my hand, I’d gut him.

Calysian sighs, his warm breath caressing my ear as he turns the horse, leaning over to take Hope’s lead rope. “It won’t be forever, Madinia. Eventually you’ll decide it’s not worth the fight.”

I snort. Despite our few moments of shared history, it’s clear he doesn’t understand me at all.

But he will.

And so I lead him toward the Aelstow Forest. I gave him a choice. He chose poorly.

Fifty men. That’s what Fliora said. After watching the troll slam into Calysian’s ward over and over again, I’m sure he’s tired. I’m also sure his drugged sleep against the tree couldn’t have been too restful.

Poor baby.

And yet I also know the dark god can kill fifty men without blinking—or at least he could if he’d found his grimoires. Not only will those men provide me the distraction I need to escape, but Calysian will take care of the soldiers in that part of the forest, allowing me to travel north.

Alone.

I don’t say a word for the next several hours. Calysian attempts to engage me, and I ignore him. At one point, he holds a canteen of water to my mouth.

“Drink,” he says warningly. “Or I’ll pinch your nose.”

Any hint of guilt about potentially leading the man to his death disappears.

If the dark god dies, at least this world will be safe from the threat he presents.

“We’ll camp in the forest,” he murmurs as we approach, two hours later. My arms ache, and my hands have gone numb. When I don’t reply, I can practically hear him brooding behind me.

“The book is mine,” he says. “By now, I’m sure you know that. Why would you keep me from something that’s mine ?”

“You must sense the kind of power it holds. Why are you searching for it?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he shifts in the saddle, his muscular thighs pressing against mine. “I’ve gone my whole life with this…hole inside me. Can you imagine what it’s like to live for centuries, knowing you’re missing a part of yourself?”

My heart races. He still has no true concept of what he’s searching for. He doesn’t know he’s looking for three grimoires, or that he’s a god.

A hint of pity stirs within me at the lost note in his voice, and I ruthlessly stamp on it. For him to get everything he wants, this world would suffer.

“No reply?” I feel him shake his head. “I knew you were cold, Madinia Farrow, but I didn’t think you were cruel.”

His words have their intended effect. My chest twists.

But I’ve lost too much in my life already.

I am cold and cruel. But those traits aren’t weaknesses. They’re strengths. Because they’ll prevent the dark god from raging through this world.

We ride in silence some more. Calysian has given up attempting to speak with me, and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s staring into the forest, his eyes narrowed.

Weak sunlight makes it through the canopy above us, dancing across his face. His eyes are cool when he looks at me, and I turn to face forward. The trail narrows until we’re surrounded by forest, and I feel the moment Calysian realizes something is wrong. His instincts are sharp, and he pulls both horses to a stop.

But it’s too late.

Kyldare’s men surround us on three sides. One of them lets an arrow loose, and it thunks against Calysian’s ward.

“Idiot!” One of them shouts. “Don’t kill the woman.”

Calysian is quiet. I can practically feel him sizing up each soldier. He hauls me off the horse and several footspans from the trail, standing in front of me as more arrows slam into his ward.

“You need to free me,” I say.

“You know I’ll protect you.”

I stare at him.

After our encounter with the troll, he has little power left. He may be a god, but without his grimoires, he’s only slightly more powerful than the fae.

His ward was flickering when he finally dealt with the beast. And it would take one stray arrow from these men to kill me.

Already, his ward is flickering again. I can’t even lift my hands to defend myself.

“Be. Serious.”

“No,” he growls, turning to face me.

I gaze past him, letting my eyes fill with tears. When my eyes meet his again, his expression turns tortured.

Triumph floods through me.

When I truly cry, tears ravage me. My nose and eyes turn as red as my hair.

But I know what I look like when I make myself cry. I learned the technique at court when I was just a girl.

My eyes turn wide and liquid. I look young. Innocent.

These tears are a tool. And they’ve served me well throughout my life. I let my lower lip tremble, biting down on it as if attempting to still the motion. “Calysian. Please. You know what they’ll do to me if they take me.”

With a sigh, he takes a small leather case from his pocket. Within seconds, he has picked the locks, and I’m free.

I almost grin.

Men.

My power fills my veins in a rush. Unlike the last time these chains came off, I’m not immediately forced into an almost-sleep. This time, the fae iron has allowed my power to build beneath the surface, waiting for my use.

By chaining me, Calysian did me a favor. Of course, he’s unlikely to see it that way.

Calysian

Madinia stretches, rolling her shoulders and peering down at her wrists. They’re chafed and bruised.

Regret gnaws at me. When this is done, I’ll wrap her wrists in a soft cloth before I chain her again. I’ll even chain her hands in front of her.

Perhaps then, she’ll stop giving me those looks filled with frustration and rage.

The soldiers continue to send their arrows into my ward. When a few of them use their power, the silver shield begins flickering once more.

I hand Madinia her sword and take my own. She’s being suspiciously quiet.

Likely because she’s terrified.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” I tell her.

She raises her eyebrow at me, turning to face the soldiers. Several footspans behind us, a massive oak stands, its trunk twice the width of a man.

“Go stand behind that tree,” I tell her. “You’ll be safe when my ward falls.”

Surprisingly, Madinia turns and walks away. Finally, she’s being compliant. Perhaps she’s seeing things my way.

I slap Fox on the rump. “You know what to do. Take the mare with you.”

He doesn’t hesitate, barreling into the mare until the horse trots away from us. He’ll lead her back later.

My ward flickers, and the soldiers move closer. Madinia steps backward.

“Stay where you are,” I snap. “They might circle behind us.”

She ignores me, moving even further away.

I glance at her cold, calculating face, and realization slams into me.

She led me here.

She knew these soldiers would be in this location—and that they would be powerful. She knew after our encounter with the troll, my ward would be weakened until I got some rest. She knew I’d have to free her.

We weren’t just traveling in circles. Madinia had a clear destination in mind. A clear path. She led us to the monster, knowing it would take most of my power for me to kill it. Which is why she brought us into this territory directly after.

If I’d watched her trick anyone else this way, I might have applauded.

My ward falls, and I swing my sword, beheading the first soldier who rushes toward me. But I can’t help but glance at Madinia. She hesitates, as if wondering if I’ll truly survive.

Nice of her to show some concern, however unwarranted.

“You truly risked your life to escape me?”

Her eyes turn to flint. “And I’ll do it over and over again. Here’s a hint. If you want my cooperation, maybe don’t hold me prisoner with Kyldare’s chains.”

“You used those chains on me first.” I glower at her, slamming my fist into another soldier’s face. “Be careful, sweetheart, your hypocrisy is showing.”

Madinia takes a step backward, flames engulfing the first soldier who launches himself at her. I know this woman, and she’s about to flee.

“Don’t you dare,” I snarl, driving my sword into a soldier’s gut and then kicking him off the blade. “If you run, I will find you.”

It’s a dark promise, but the little witch winks before glancing over my shoulder at the soldiers pouring toward us. Her flames shoot high into the air, so hot that no soldiers dare brave the fire. And still I can hear her voice.

“Sounds like a date,” she purrs. “But something tells me you’re going to miss it.”

She disappears into the forest. The soldiers immediately shift their attention from me, most of them sprinting after her.

Cursing, I cut down the soldiers, one after the other. I know I can find Madinia again, but if Kyldare’s men get to her first…

I form smaller wards, then use the wards to punch into them, carving holes in their backs as they turn to chase Madinia. I’m well aware that this isn’t a normal ability, but I’ve never been normal.

I slice out again and again, attempting to burn through the worst of my fury. But I’m mostly enraged at myself.

Unchaining Madinia was the stupidest thing I could do. And yet…she might not have survived if I’d left her in those chains, unable to use her power. All it would take is one arrow. One soldier to sneak up and steal her away.

But she did this. It’s humiliating—how easily she manipulated me. All it took was the despair in her eyes as they flooded, turning as dark as the depths of the ocean.

Eventually, the soldiers thin, turning to run—and no longer following Madinia. Their general is dead, and can no longer roar at them to stay and fight for Kyldare.

So they don’t.

Fox wanders close, the mare nowhere to be seen. “You lost her horse, too?”

He ducks his head. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was ashamed.

A flap of wings, and Eamonn lands on a branch above us. He angles his head, and for a moment, there’s something so familiar about him, all I can do is stare.

He makes a show of exploring our surroundings. “Where is she?”

“Gone.”

“I thought you learned this lesson last time.”

I wipe the blade of my sword on one of the dead soldier’s shirts. “Clearly I didn’t. She’s…clever. Wily.”

Eamonn makes a strange choking sound and I turn to face him. “Are you…laughing?”

“You have to admit it’s kind of…” his voice trails off and he adjusts his wings. “Uh, not at all funny. Not even a little bit. I have to go now.”

“Eamonn!”

Too late. He’s arrowing into the sky. And the cry he lets loose sounds a lot like a howl of laughter.