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Rares’s fists and shoulders were tight, but he kept his expression neutral. In a low voice, I said, “If any of them die during this process, you will too.” I was not one to leave options on the table, especially for those who I already knew resented me. He shot me a sideways glare, then uncurled his fingers and started to chant.
Guess he did not want to give a goodbye speech, not that any of the Telivér would want one.
A faint buzz bounced around the rock walls, mixing with the rhythmic thrum of Rares’s voice. Rixis yelped as a popping sound started on the right side of the group where she stood among the Shifters. I scented salty tears of relief as one by one, each Shifter inhaled a free breath, some for the first time in decades. Their happiness was almost touching, and I felt goodabout carrying out my promise to Izidora when I could have easily kept these people locked in the Iron Realm.
The six Mages stood stoically as their freedom was restored; the only sign of their release was the rubbing of wrists where invisible chains once rested.
Finally, Rares landed on the Angel and Demons, the most powerful of all the Telivér. The moment each Demon felt the rush of freedom, they threw their heads back and released a roar. Zuriel remained ethereal and motionless, watching every move Rares made with carefully honed apprehension. The old Mage completed his work, sweat pouring from his brow, and stumbled to a chair, first bracing himself against the back and then collapsing into it. I did not deign to check on him.
“Those who wish to stay, step forward,” I commanded. Zuriel and the Demons all took that step, sending my eyebrows shooting up my forehead. Their desire to remain in the Iron Realm was unexpected, and I studied their faces closely, especially those of the Demons, hunting for any sign of deception. Zuriel remained for Izidora, that much was obvious.
But why would the Demons remain?
The Mages also stepped forward, followed by Konsteon and another Centaur. I waited a moment before asking, “Anyone else?” Silence greeted me. “Very well. Those who want to leave, you have one hour to pack your belongings and head to Stravek. Soldiers will be waiting to escort you in the courtyard. The rest of you are dismissed.”
Two of the Mages rushed to Rares’s side, checking his forehead and hands for any sign of burnout.
“He needs rest. His magic is nearly tapped,” the man said to the woman. She nodded, and they hooked Rares’s arms over their shoulders and carried him down the tunnel that led to his workshop and bedroom. At least the Mages who stayed were on our side, clearly taken by Rares’s power and thirst for more. Ipopped my neck and rolled my shoulders, pissed that Rares had expended too much energy, leaving me to gather my own staff.
I needed another assistant.
With a curt nod to Zuriel, I departed, taking the stairs two at a time until I burst into the bustling hall. “You,” I snapped, calling out a young but stern looking female. She stopped in her tracks, glaring at me briefly, then continued on her way. My steps pounded toward her, and I grabbed her by the arm, spinning her and forcing her to look at me.
“What do you want, Ruslan? Come to seduce me again and leave my bed cold before dawn breaks?”
Fucking Fates, she was not the right servant to stop. I vaguely remembered her as I checked out her body, but the memory of burying my cock deep inside my mate had erased all others from my mind. “You will not speak to your king that way,” I hissed at her.
She scoffed. “I doubt that will ever happen. King Azim would likely have you killed before then.”
“King Azim is dead, and I killed him. Which makes me your king,” I growled, my voice laced with violence. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. “Now, I need you to gather everyone in the main ballroom so I can make a formal announcement of the succession. Can you manage that or should I find someone more competent?”
She swallowed, yanking her arm free and rushing off, disappearing behind a door that I thought might lead to the kitchens. The kitchens – Cedomir. I recalled asking Drazen to bring him and my regiment here last night. Had they made the trek already? The pain in my head had required too much of my attention when I stumbled from my apartment this morning to notice who stood outside it. But it was not the time for those questions, not when I still had a list of tasks that needed to be completed before the royal guests arrived.
Taking note of the placement of the decor, I stalked the halls, aiming for the main ballroom where the majority of the citadel’s inhabitants would likely be. When I arrived, High Lords Slavian and Anton stood in the open doorway, chatting and oblivious to their obvious blockage of the passage where servants hustled in and out, carrying everything needed for tonight’s opening ball.
“Slavian, Anton,” I greeted the males, a hint of frustration seeping into my tone.
Both swept into a bow as I stopped before them. “My King,” they said in unison.
“So you have heard then?” I clarified, wondering who had spread the news far enough to reach their ears.
“Indeed we have. A welcome change, in my opinion,” High Lord Slavian snickered. Slavian was only a year younger than me, and beside Drazen, he was my closest friend. His mother was a half Demon and half Centaur, hand selected for her power by his deceased father. He and Anton were the only two Félvér children to claim their father’s noble titles so far.
“I hear you’ve been busy with other activities as well, Ruslan,” Anton prodded suggestively.
“When do we get to meet your lovely mate? The whispers around Radence say she is very appealing.” Slavian flashed his teeth in a salacious smile.
Their lustful reactions were the reason I had kept her away from them. I bared my own teeth and clenched my fists, ready to swing at whichever male made the next comment about Izidora. “She is not for you to look at or fantasize about, Slavian. The reason I have kept her hidden is so I do not kill the first male to stare a little too long at my mate. I suggest you keep your eyes elsewhere if you do not want me to peel the skin from your body inch by inch.”
Anton’s laugh was too light for the darkness of my promise. “Slavian can’t help that he is part incubus, Ruslan. I know yourpissy Dragon is the one driving you mad right now, and I can’t hold it against you. I’d probably do the same for my mate.” He plucked a bottle of liquor off a passing servant’s tray. “Let’s find a dark corner and drink this until the other monarchs arrive. I need to be intoxicated to get through all the formal royal bullshit.”
“As much as I want to join you, I can’t. I have to talk to all these people, since only a handful know of King Azim’s death.” Though, that may no longer be the case, since the two young High Lords already knew of his passing.
“Why don’t you get Rares to do it?” Anton whined, his Wolf side forcing his pitch higher.
“Because the asshole nearly burned himself out. What I need is a dedicated fucking assistant,” I complained.
“I know where you can find a few of those,” Slavian snickered, elbowing Anton in the ribs.
