Her lips press into a thin line as she continues, “Three hundred and fourteen years. That’s how long he’s ruled. There have been two hundred ninety challengers in the span of those years, and do you know what happened to all of them? They died.”
The hair on my arms stands on end and a chill rolls through my body, my eyes shifting to Riven who is still surging against the wall around him.
Part of me knew these kings were brutal the moment I woke and heard the terror in those humans’ voices. Yet, somehow after seeing a different side of them in the time since, I find it hard to correlate the two versions of them. Sylvin’s display of destruction and his choice to end all those humans’ lives in the ocean was the first harsh dose of reality I’ve faced in reconciling the versions I know with the ones everyone else seems to know.
As I watch Riven, I realize this is another one of those moments.
The crowd murmurs, low and uneasy as she steps chest-to-chest with Waylen, tilting her head back slightly to look into his eyes directly. “Do you rememberanyof their names, Waylen? Because I do. I was here when the last one screamed for mercy and Riven didn’t blink. There will be no mercy in the challenge for the throne.”
She turns, facing the rest of the crowd now. “You all forget how he got this crown.”
Her voice lowers, almost reverent. “He didn’t inherit it. He earned it–one body at a time–as he worked his way to the top and thenstayedthere.”
My heart kicks against my ribs, each beat a pulse of fear and disbelief.
This faction is a kingdom built on corpses.
Chapter 25
Wren
“Ithink I’ve settled on what will be better when I win,” Waylen drawls, and the weight of his gaze returns to me. “Draining every drop of blood from her body, knowing there’s nothing Riven can do about it from the grave.”
My breath halts. It’s like I’m not a person at all to him, just a reward attached to the seat of a throne he hasn’t yet won.
Riven’s body stills, and in that silence, I know Waylen has just crossed a line he won’t be coming back from. A feral growl erupts from Riven, the only warning anyone gets before he lunges through the wall of bodies. He tears forward, fangs bared and glowing red eyes locked on Waylen like a death sentence already written.
I’ve seen Riven intense and protective, but this version of him feels deeper and more primal. I know it’s Waylen’s talk of me that sent him over the edge, not the talk of taking the throne–just…me.
The knowledge settles deeply into my heart, making whatever my tie is to this vampire that much stronger.
The vampire woman who was in Waylen’s face suddenly appears in front of Riven.
“Enough!” she shouts. “Riven!”
He doesn’t stop.
“If you strike him now,” she warns, voice dropping low with conviction, “without a ritual challenge formally initiated, and no legal cause for retaliation per the lawsyouwrote, you forfeit the crown.”
A small gasp escapes me, but her words don't reach him.
His body pulses with fury–his forearm muscles are coiled, his fangs are fully bared, and his pupils are elongated into a predator’s slits. He doesn’t hear her or see anyone except his prey–Waylen.
That smug bastard just stands there, arms crossed, grin sharp and delighted like this is all part of his twisted plan.
My heart pounds so loudly I hear it ringing in my ears.
“Riven,” I say, the name barely a whisper at first.
No response.
My voice tightens as I take a step forward, despite the wall of vampires between us.
“Riven.Please!”
His gaze snaps to mine and I jump on the chance to hopefully get through to him, pleading, “Please, you have to stop. His words meannothingto me, and it sounds like it’s just a way to dethrone you, because everyone here knows he will die if he goes against you in combat.”
I see him start to return to himself, bit by agonizing bit, and in the process, I watch Waylen’s hands drop and curl into fists at his sides.
