I squeeze his neck, his pulse racing beneath my touch. “Tell. Them.”
There is no room in my council for people who think I am weak.
The lord’s skin pales, and his lips tremble.
“Say it!” I roar.
Lord Varis shakes beneath me as he repeats the question that doomed him. Then he adds, “Your Majesty, I swear, I didn’t mean to imply that?—”
He never finishes his sentence.
Forming a dagger out of crimson magic, I slash it across Anton’s throat. Blood sprays from his severed neck as his body falls. None of it lands on me, bouncing off the shield of magic I erect without a second thought.
I dissolve the dagger, drying my fingers on a handkerchief before turning around. The servants will clean up this mess.
Killing Lord Varis did not ease the living flames beneath my skin. If anything, it stoked them higher. They are burning, burning, burning, waiting to devour me alive, needing to be released.
“If you can’t help me, then perhaps I will?—”
“King Andreas!” The door swings open, banging into the wall. A messenger in black is in the doorway, out of breath. “A troop of Protectors sent word from the dungeon. They have a lead.”
The flames beneath my skin reach new heights. “About the girl?” My voice is rough.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
For the first time in days, there’s a sensation in my body other than complete anger. Finally,someoneis doing their fucking job.
I shove off from the table and step around the corpse, leaving the rest of my council without a second glance. They’ll either follow me, or they’ll find themselves as permanent residents in the dungeon alongside the others who have displeased me.
After all, as Lord Varis was reminded, in my kingdom, there are only two options: Do as I say or rue the day you were born.
A symphony of wails greets me as I march into the dungeon. The sounds of pain and agony are a balm to the anger burrowing in my bones.
Sharp talons dig into my shoulder, a welcome presence. Shadow, my bonded eagle, is my ever-present companion. He answered my summons the moment I left the council chambers, and he has been resting on my shoulder ever since.
Even when he isn’t with me, I can always feel him. Our connection is fluid, fed by the Harvests, and his thoughts and feelings flow through me as though they were my own. They have done so ever since the day our familiar bond snapped into place.
Unlike my Hunters, who have forged bonds, I can peer through Shadow’s eyes as easily as my own, feel his emotions as though they originated from me. His anger is nearly as strong as mine, and I know he wants this situation resolved as much as I do.
“Your Majesty, please, have mercy,” a woman with stringy pale pink hair whimpers, her voice grating against my nerves. She’s kneeling at the front of her cell, her clothes reduced to rags. “I don’t know why I’m here,” she sobs. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
I stride past, ignoring her.
In the compartment next to her, a man with silver hair is staring listlessly at the ceiling. He doesn’t even seem to register my passing.
Shadow and I continue onwards.
A few cells down, the prisoner resembles a living skeleton. He’s of average height, and dried blood decorates most of his body. What was once a tunic now hangs on thin bones, barely covering him.
The moment the prisoner sees me, an unintelligible scream erupts from his lips. It’s sharp and loud and everything wrong with the world.
“Shut up,” I snarl, halting my progress in front of his cell. I’m not here for him, but his shouting irritates me.
Skeletal fingers reach through the bars as the scream reaches heights I never thought possible.
“By the gods, that’s enough!” I yank on my magic.
Crimson explodes from my hands—a flurry of red aimed at the prisoner’s heart. The scream crescendos as flames encase his body. Licking. Devouring. Louder and louder and louder, until...
