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“I said you could ride alongside me. That means with me, on my horse,” he grinned, his deception well played.
I scoffed, then approached the beast, who calmed his restless stomping as I neared. Ruslan reached for me as if he would throw me on his mount’s back, but I shot him a sharp look. “I’ve got this,” I snapped, stepping away from him.
Though I could almost walk beneath the trunk-like legs of the horse, I managed to grasp the saddle and haul myself atop the black beast with graceful ease. With my chin lifted high and gaze glued forward, I did not deign to give Ruslan attention as he pulled himself into the leather saddle behind me. His warmth immediately enveloped me, followed by an intoxicating combination of cedarwood and vanilla. Muscled arms snaked around my waist, trapping me against the hard planes of his torso. I arched away from him as much as possible, though it was futile, and he snapped his mount’s reins, leading the group away from Vaenor, away from my friends, and away from my mate.
2
Iwas numb. As I walked around the massive ballroom in Este Castle, Fae wailed, both from physical pain and grief. The sound was distant, like I passed a symphony playing in a far-off venue. Glassy eyes gazed up at the ceiling that imitated the night sky, their owners never to see the real one again. Healers ran through the obstacle course of bodies, living and dead, scattered throughout the room, saving those they could, granting peace to those they could not. Occasionally, another shard of crystal lost its battle with gravity and shattered against the floor, knocked loose by my earlier roar, which had left my throat bloody and raw.
Endre barreled into me, grasping my shoulder, shouting in my ear. But I did not hear him, could not process the words that flew from his mouth. I shrugged him off, continuing my harrowed march. My best friend in the entire world, and I could not stand his sympathy, for I had completely and utterly failed.
Izidora… I swore I would protect her, keep her safe, never let her be chained again; yet I watched as they drugged and dragged her from me, unable to lift a finger to reach her. I could not protect her.
My father… with his dying breath, he’d told me what I knew deep inside but didn’t believe was true. Izidora was my mate. If only I had listened to him… I would be able to contact her, mind to mind. I could have saved her. Mate magic was strong enough to break barriers, cut poisons, and more, with a beacon that always guided mates home to one another. If I’d listened, I could have tracked her, saved her from the Iron Fae’s clutches.
I rode Fek, my dependable mount, through every forest surrounding Vaenor last night, and I screamed for Izidora over and over, ignoring the sharp pain in my throat until my voice was utterly gone. But I found no trace of her – not even a hint of her sweet, rosy scent. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.
Now a strong hand lay across my face. I blinked, registering that Viktor stood in front of me, covered in blood, his eyes frenzied and fearful. He slapped me again. My reverie began to fade. He raised his hand for a third strike, and I let him hit me, needing to feel the pain, taking the punishment for my failure as a mate.
“That’s enough!” Endre roared, catching Viktor’s hand before he could land a fourth stinging strike to my sweat- and tear-stained face.
“He needed to pull his head out of his ass!” Viktor snapped back. “We’ve got to do some serious damage control, and we need him coherent. He’s the head of House Vaszoly now.”
“He just lost his father and his mate, you asshat! Give him a minute,” Endre fumed.
“We don’t have a minute! Valintin is in the council room right now making his claim for the throne. None of our houses are there to stop him, and if we don’t get there soon it’s going to be too late,” Viktor barked.
“Let’s go.” My voice was raspy, hollow, and barely there – just like me. Walking between my two best friends, I stepped in toomany ruby puddles until we broke into the hall outside the ballroom, where the dead lay side by side beneath white shrouds. My two closest friends continued their argument with silent glares around my head as we left a bloody trail in our wake, all the way to the council room.
Over my dead body would High Lord Valintin install himself as King of the Night Realm.
Izidora was out there somewhere, and she still had the strongest claim to the throne. I threw open the double doors to the council room with a bang. With that aggressive action, my head cleared enough to stalk to my father’s seat near the head of the table, eyes like daggers as they stabbed into Tomaz Valintin. His son Alekzi shadowed the wall behind him like a pathetic puppy begging for a scrap of attention. Neither sported a drop of blood on their unruffled formal attire.
Endre and Viktor took their fathers’ seats, both Tibor and Erik having been badly injured during the chaos as they defended their realm, unlike the two sniveling pieces of shit that sat across from me. High Lord Kaztar Rass limped into the room moments later sporting a blood-soaked bandage around his thigh. Viktor shot to his feet and helped the young High Lord hobble to his seat at the table. Kaztar dipped his head to me, his jade eyes hard and cutting to the High Lord seated across from me.
Tomaz Valintin stood, casting an accusatory glare at Endre and Viktor. “Where are your fathers? We cannot take a vote without them.”
Viktor shot to his feet with an affronted snarl, knocking the heavy high-backed chair to the ground. “Our fathers are both with healers who are tending to their wounds received from defending their realm and kin. Unlike you two, they fought like heroes. They have named us delegates with freedom to hear anddecide on any argument until the time that they shall be healed enough to return to these seats.”
High Lord Valintin paled under Viktor’s ferocious stare. His thin lips popped open to retort, but I interrupted him. “So, tell me Tomaz, what is it that we are voting on? You see, Houses Adimik, Zadik, Rass, and Vaszoly were not present for the debate. We’ll need a rundown of the proposal before we can proceed.” My knuckles braced against the polished red wood of the table as I towered over it, my jaw clenched around the words I really wanted to whip into the spineless male before me. My father taught me to be a damn good politician, and I refused to allow Valintin to win this battle of words by succumbing to my raging emotions.
He cleared his throat, glancing to High Lord Vaklav Luzak down the table. “We were just discussing succession plans, now that King Zalan is dead. He never named a successor, making it plain he wasn’t planning on doing so for some time just before the Iron Fae stormed in. Given that Izidora returned and wasn’t immediately named heir apparent, I think this council should decide what’s best for the Night Realm.”
“Princess Izidora was kidnapped, again, only hours ago, by those Iron Fae soldiers who breached our walls and killed King Zalan – whose body still remains in that room – and yet you are most concerned with who will next wear the crown?” I questioned.
“Well, I… I mean we… we can’t lead forces against another realm without proper leadership, and besides, we don’t really have any evidence that she is who she claimed to be–” I stopped him mid sentence with a growl so low and threatening that even Viktor and Endre blanched.
“Am I to believe that there are others in this room who question Princess Izidora’s identity? To speak those words is, in fact, treason. And while King Zalan may no longer preside over thiscouncil, his laws still exist. So tell me, does anyone else share Tomaz’s opinion?” My regard landed heavily over the other High Lords gathered around the table.
High Lord Jaku Volak averted his eyes, and only High Lord Vaklav Luzak held my gaze, contempt lining every wrinkle on his aging face. “I share this opinion,” he spat.
“So we have two traitors among us? My dear brother Kazimir, it seems we cannot take their votes into consideration,” Viktor purred. “According to the Law of Árulás, any noble house that commits treason is automatically stripped of its voting rights, with or without trial.” Viktor righted his chair and settled into it with a relaxed posture. These were the moments he lived for, twisting words and weaving tales to line up his chess pieces in just the right way to corner his opponents.
“We aren’t traitors!” Vaklav shouted, banging his fists on the table like a child, his face flushed and filled with fury.
“Oh? So then you do believe that Princess Izidora is the daughter of Queen Liessa and King Zalan, and she has a claim to the throne?” Viktor questioned, leaning forward with a dark brow raised toward his black hair, which was somehow just as neat as it had been before the feast last night.
“Yes, of course–” Tomaz started.
