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The privileges I was given? They weren’t fair. The prices I paid for them would soon take restitution from my soul.
~12~
The room was no longer dark, but it was still empty—aside from the three massive thrones.
Reyes sat proudly on his seat of suede and bone, looking every bit the seductively cruel king he was. Cassimere and Hades sat on either side of him in smaller versions of the same chair.
Multiple pairs of eyes watched as Dylan and Wesley escorted me across the room.
They fanned out in opposite directions as I ascended the thick quad of stairs that lead to the thrones. At the top, I held Reyes' eyes and accepted his hand, placing the customary kiss on the back of it with a small curtsey.
Before I could rise back to my full height, he threaded our fingers together and pulled me onto his lap. It took me a second to get settled, finally resting my back against his chest when no other position worked.
I knew this wasn’t how things were usually done, but Reyes ruled his way, and that was doing whatever the hell he wanted.
His warm breath fanned over my skin as he spoke softly in my ear.
“You looked beautiful last night, but this morning, you look so damn stunning. That crown suits you.”
I couldn’t be sure if he meant that as a genuine compliment or a jab because it represented the monarchical status of a princess rather than a queen.
He himself wore a ring of gold atop his head.
Not forgetting my purpose, I turned my head and kissed his cheek in place of a reply. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. His only reaction was slipping one arm around my waist and holding me close to him.
No one in the room batted an eyelid at our exchange or public display of affection. His brothers looked rather proud, if I had to name an emotion associated with their smirks.
Glancing around the room as a whole had a sense of déjà vu taking hold. This was where it all began.
Guards standing against the walls were still as statues. The silence was stifling.
“What’s going to happen now?” Reyes lifted my hand to his lips and placed another soft kiss on it before answering.
“I’ve already dealt with the petty issues. Now, it’s time for the atonement.”
“Isn’t that a tad medieval?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Luckily, he and his brothers laughed it off.
“That’s exactly why Tuesday is one of my favorite days of the week,” Reyes said.
I knew right then that I was not going to like anything about to transpire. Minutes after that thought, another set of doors opened and a line of supes came in.
They had chains wrapped around their necks and ankles, shackled together in the center. Their condition was beyond pitiful, the smell even worse.
It took a great deal of self-control not to cover my nose and mouth. Dried feces clung to their filthy bodies. Where was he keeping them?
I learned pretty quickly that atonements were exactly that; a crime or wrongdoing would be explained and then that supe would receive a punishment.
For the most part, I sat confused as to what most of them meant, aside from obvious ones.
A lycan man had bitten one of the sovereign guards; his punishment was to lose his teeth and thirty days in something called the Grid Iron.
A young wraith was brought forward who had cheated on her husband; she was to be condemned while the male in the affair would be reckoned.
Her sobs and pleas were looked upon with plain boredom from the brothers. Things went on like this for a while. When things took a small intermission and those not up for punishment prepared to come in, I finally asked my questions.
“What’s a reckoning? And where is the Grid Iron?” Reyes chuckled and rested his chin on my shoulder.
“A reckoning is an execution. The Grid Iron is our prison,” Cassimere kindly explained.
There was a prison here, too? Gods, I did not want to know what that looked like.
Then, I caught onto what else he’d said. “You have executions?”
“Not everyone is redeemable,” Hades answered.
I knew my idea of someone being redeemable or not would differ vastly from his.
When the doors reopened, a much cleaner line of supes came in either to deliver news or offer services worthy of payment. Some wanted to join the citadel servitors or city guards.
In one instance where a vampire had snuck in to ask for an extension on a debt he owed, he was swiftly denied.
“Take him to the Grid; lock him up until the debt’s gone,” Reyes commanded one of his guards. Without hesitation and lots of begging that was, of course, ignored, the man was dragged away.
“How long will he be there?” I inquired, trying to compute two-hundred dollars into days.
