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The torchlight glittered and sparkled on the walls. There were ornate tapestries, silvery rugs, beautiful carvings and sculptures depicting their god Vix, kings, and lovely maidens at every turn. I found it more disheartening that the royal palace was filled with dark beauty and sophistication. For if that were so, how could their king be so heartless and cruel? The king I was about to finally meet.
I focused on my breathing, trying to remain calm as the guards marched me through two open double doors into a high-domed room. It was circular with tall pillars and lovely architecture, but it was the audience that held me riveted.
The guards around me stopped in the middle beneath the high dome. Surrounding us in a wide circle was obviously his court. Beyond a fleeting glance to discover they were ornately dressed and bejeweled as the noble four-horned wraith fae would be, I kept my gaze forward.
Standing in two rows at attention and facing each other all the way to the throne were the king’s elite guard, Kel Klyss. The Culled was what the wraith king’s guard was called in our language. They were carefully selected and bound to their king through some sort of mysterious dark rite none of the scholars I’d asked could tell me.
The Kel Klyss were indeed all that my books had described. These dark fae didn’t look like the deformed creatures who’d held me in captivity so many years ago. They appeared much worse—fearsome, formidable, and cunning.
They were covered in black, steel armor that formed to their seven-foot-plus frames. The traditional wraith fae weapon—a curved sword forged here in their homeland—was strapped to their sides, hanging down the length of their thick thighs, the sharpened tip reaching past their knees.
Most of the warriors had two horns, but a few had four—all of them curving backward around their heads—with silver guards around the base of each horn, like rings on a finger. For decoration or for strength to use their horns as weapons in battle, I wasn’t sure.
Their dark hair was worn loose except for one who’d shaved the sides, leaving a long, braided tail down his back. Some wore gold jewelry woven into smaller braids along their temples. Gold was as revered everywhere as the black steel mined in Northgall.
Their skin was varying shades of gray, some pale as storm clouds, others as dark as the slate quarried out of Vixet Krone. Their eyes ranged in hues of yellow, orange, and red, though not one pair had landed on me.
Though their clawed hands hung loosely at their sides and their closed mouths hid their canine teeth, there was no mistaking we were in the presence of powerful dark fae. Demon magick hummed thick in the air.
All dark fae were descended of the demon god Vix and appeared in various likenesses of him. Just as the light fae bore the likeness of our gods of the heavens and the sea. It was one thing to be told of them, to see portraits and sketches, but it was another to see them in the flesh.
Movement at the head of the room in a dome of shadow caught my gaze. Then the creature who stepped down from his throne stole my breath. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making any noise at all, for the sight of their king struck me with terrible fear.
He was a behemoth, dressed in black hide trousers, and that was all. His forehead and chest were covered in runes, like most wraith fae nobles. Only he had more. His four black horns curled over his skull then swept up to sharp points, the two larger ones with wide bands of gold at the base. The smaller horns were encased entirely in gold, serving as his crown.
But his appearance wasn’t what frightened me most. It was the sinister grin he wore and his expression of malicious intent as he stalked closer. The courtiers whispered. King Xakiel’s boots echoed in the chamber as he walked down the tunnel of his wraith warriors.
A jolt of magick hummed from my left. I glanced at the guard, but his head remained bowed in deference to his approaching king.
The Demon King lived up to all my horrifying expectations as he came to a stop before me. His ice-blue eyes with pupils slit like a serpent’s raked me with calculating interest. I wondered why his were different than most wraith fae, recalling that I’d seen similar eyes before.
“Welcome to Näkt Mir, Princess Tiarrialuna.”
He didn’t bow his head in any semblance of propriety. So neither did I. And I wasn’t about to be ingratiating for this greeting when everyone in this room knew that I’d been draggedhere by force after his warriors murdered my dearest friend and an innocent Issosian.
“Have you sent terms to Issos yet?” I asked.
His smile widened, revealing his sharp canines.
“A woman with spirit. You’ll need it.”
Some courtiers tittered. Acid burned in my belly that they found this vile display so entertaining.
“Have you?” I asked more forcefully.
Not only did I want my brother to know that I was at least alive, but I needed to know how long my torture would last this time in Näkt Mir.
The king’s smile vanished. “Careful, Princess.”
“That is why I’m here, am I not?” I asked, ignoring his warning. “To force Issos to surrender?”
He tilted his head, examining me as if I was an enticing curiosity.
“Of course, it is,” he admitted evenly, then added with bite, “my lady.”
More laughter circled the room from our audience, except from the warriors who remained alert, poised, and silent.
I gulped hard when the king took a step closer, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his gaze.
