Page 53 of She Who Holds My Wrath

Without meaning to, I softly laugh, and Maelkar looks at me with a questioning gaze. “Sorry. Last time I was here, Korithax set Kaelith on fire for touching me. Yet then, he was adamant he felt nothing for me.” I sigh softly. “Gods, that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“He really was a territorial bastard over you, wasn’t he?” Maelkar laughs. “Right. We need to be up there, and you can’t fly. So hold on, sugar, the shadows are taking you for a ride you’ll never forget.”

Without giving me a chance to reply or even digest his words, Maelkar scoops me into his arms and the world turns dark, the whooshing sound of wind roaring past my ears as all light vanishes. Seconds later, I find myself standing on the very same platform I was dropped on those months ago by the horrific creature that kidnapped me. I shiver internally at the memory. The stone is covered with frost beneath my boots, and the wind tears at my cloak, bringing the scent of pine and bonfire smoke.

I go to move from Maelkar’s grasp and stumble, the world suddenly tilting. “Woah there, queenie. Shadow travel can be a little disorientating. Give yourself a minute,” he says, grasping on to me.

“Well, if you would’ve given me more of a heads up before you grabbed me and whipped me away into the darkness, I would’ve been more prepared,” I mutter, bracing my palms on my thighs and breathing in deeply through my nose as I wait for my stomach to fall back into its usual position, and not in my throat.

He rolls his eyes at me, setting me steady on my feet and ensuring I’m all good before letting go. Maelkar glances around, looking out over the cliff’s edge at the twinkling village below. “Hmm.” He mumbles, rubbing his finger against his lower lip, shadows idling at his heels like little smoke dogs.

“What?” I ask, shuffling on unsteady legs to where he’s standing and taking in the view. It really is incredible here. Everything blanketed in glittering white snow. This edge in the mountainside gives the best view of the realm. Below, the huts in the village all glow, lanterns hanging outside in bright orange hues. And above, the eternal dusky night with twinkling stars and the vibrant aurora that paints the sky in purples, greens and blues. It truly is breathtaking.

“Just doesn’t look like a realm that’s been under attack, that’s all,” he murmurs.

I take in his words, looking back over the village below. He’s right. Our village was basically desecrated. Nothing but rubble left after the attack on Cinderspine. Yet here, everything looks normal. Peaceful even. No scorch marks on the snow. No collapsed roofs. No fleeing silhouettes. Just lantern light, smoke billowing from bonfires, and the soft hush of a calm realm with every building still intact.

“Miss, umm…” A soft feminine voice sounds from behind me. I turn to see a breathtaking creature standing before me, a girl so beautiful in that ethereal way only otherworldly beings manage to be. Her skin gleams silver-grey, smooth as moonlight on water, and her enormous black eyes shimmer with flecks the same colour as the aurora floating around them. She looks young, maybe a year or two younger than me, with black pouty lips, a button nose, and sharply pointed ears.

A VeliNymph.

What strikes me the most isn’t her beauty, though—it’s how little she’s wearing. A sheer black shift clings to her like a living shadow, translucent in the aurora’s glow and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Delicate heels shimmer on her feet, as if dusted with starlight. She must be freezing.

“Queen of Hell,” Maelkar drawls, stepping close to my side like an overprotective guard dog.

“Please,” I say quickly, elbowing him in the ribs. “Call me Daisy.” He grunts, glaring at me out the corner of his eye. I suck my lips between my teeth to hide the smile trying to break free.

The VeliNymph smiles softly, revealing two small fangs where her canines should be. “Please, follow me. Kaelith is expecting you.”

I side-eye Maelkar. He just shrugs lazily, as if being escorted by a half-naked temptress through a hostile palace is the most routine thing in the world, and falls into step behind her without a care. She glances back over her shoulder as she turns the corner, and I notice the back view is just as indecent as the front. Guilt tugs sharply in my chest. It’s obvious who she is—one of the girls Korithax had been furious about the last time we stayed here. Kaelith’s so-called “personal toys.” Ugh.

I drag my gaze away and follow, boots whispering over polished stone as we move deeper into the palace. No one speaks. The silence stretches, making me feel uneasy. I’m such a nervous talker, but I can’t do that, because then it shows I’m nervous, and I won’t look very queenly. Gods damn it. The halls are enormous, with veins of crystal that run through the walls, pulsing faintly as though they’re alive. Lanterns hang from iron hooks driven straight into the stone, their golden flames flickering lazily and spilling warm light over the floor.

Towering doors soon come into view, shot through with thick veins of luminous crystal that branch like frozen lightning across their surface. Recognition slams into me so hard, it steals the breath from my lungs. Kaelith’s throne room. My stomach drops, a sour, twisting knot forming low in my gut. The last time I stood beyond those doors, his hands were on me. His voice low and honeyed as he tried convincing me his attention was a gift and not a slimy way of trying to steal something that didn’t belong to him. The memory crawls over my skin like something unclean, making me grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches with the effort of holding the past at bay. Gods, he truly is an awful person.

But apparently, Aurora’s Veil is under attack. The war is escalating. And alliances—even fragile, distasteful ones—are the only thing standing between us and absolute annihilation. So, I swallow the disgust. The fear. The anger. For the sake of the realm… for the sake of everyone who might still be alive, I will endure him. For now.

The VeliNymph pushes the doors open, the massive panels gliding inward with a low, resonant groan that echoes through the chamber beyond. A wash of warmer air spills out to meet us, carrying the faint scent of incense. We step inside, our footsteps immediately swallowed by the vastness of the room. Without any hesitation, the VeliNymph sinks gracefully to her knees before Kaelith, head bowed, and hands resting delicately on her thighs in silent submission. Not a word passes her lips. Not even a glance in our direction. She simply folds herself small at the base of his dais, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

Kaelith lounges upon his absurdly ostentatious throne as though nothing at all is amiss. As though his realm isn’t supposedly under siege. One leg draped lazily over the armrest, dark silks cascading around him like pooled shadow, catching the light with every subtle shift of his body. He looks polished. Untouched. Not a single long, onyx hair out of place. His dark ash-grey face not carrying an ounce of concern. Those constellation filled eyes find mine immediately, a slow smile ghosting across his lips. The weight of his attention feels intrusive, and instantly, my stomach feels uneasy.

“Daisy,” he says smoothly, then pauses, frowning. His eyes flick to my left, something unreadable passing across his expression. Interest, calculation… something far less welcoming. “Maelkar?”

“Duskwalker.” Maelkar inclines his head in greeting.

Kaelith’s lip twitch. “Strange company you keep, Queen of Hell. Is this your new… king?” His voice drips disdain.

“He’s my right hand on this visit,” I reply sharply. “Someone more suited to handle your apparent dire situation.”

The words hang heavy, and I watch him carefully, the back of my neck prickling. Something’s wrong. Kaelith doesn’t look tired, or at all distressed. In fact, he looks like his usual calm, cocky self. Velentha’s words of concern before I stepped through the leyline echo in my mind. “Daisy, don’t.” My throat goes dry.

“Right.” He gestures languidly towards two chairs before his throne. “Please, sit. Drink?”

The same VeliNymph that escorted us here jumps to her feet and scurries to the edge of the room, only to return in less than a minute balancing a tray of crystal glasses filled with a ruby-hued liquid. She serves Kaelith first, then Maelkar, then me. I glance down at the liquid, softly swishing it around the glass. The suspicion must be written all over my face because Kaelith sighs dramatically.

“Really, Daisy? That little trust?” He snatches the drink from my hand, takes a long sip, and passes it back. “There. Happy? I’m simply trying to be a gracious host.”

Guilt ripples through me. He’s right—he stood beside us in Hell against the Six. He hasn’t given me a reason to distrust him since. I guess war has made me a little more paranoid than I thought. I take a tentative sip and softly groan at the delicious taste. It’s warm and softly spiced with fruity notes to it. I take another big sip, savouring the way it melts down my throat like honeyed fire.