Page 205 of The Fallen Fae King

It is intense to be close to thousands of enemies while bound.

I am here to be executed.

This isn’t a fight. These nobles are on a night out of blood sport. Our death will be their entertainment.

Omegas in dyed silks with glittering hairpins drape themselves on the laps of their powerful Alphas. Their children play next to them, scrabbling between the seats in excitement.

In the center of the tiers is a vast awning, which is embroidered with golden dragons. The space is empty, apart from Maximinus.

He is sprawled on the seating like it is his throne.

When he meets my eyes, his lips tug up into a smug smile. He turns up his nose, contemptuously, as if even meeting the eyes of a vampire king is beneath him.

My eyes glow red in my rage.

Maximinus arranged my betrayal and capture. He stole my crown and melted it in front of me.

In this life or the next, I shall make him scream out his regrets.

But now, he is beneath my notice.

I study the awning.

Is it meant for the royal family?

Merchants wander between the seats, hawking spiced wine, sausages dripping with fat, and sweet pastries.

Is this a festival to them?

I clench my hands, imagining being able to transform and fly into the stands, slaughtering row after row.

Tier after tier.

The laughter would dissolve into screams, and my mouth would be filled with delicious blood. I wouldn’t be hollowed with hunger. I’d be high on the deaths of those who would cheer the death of my people and my first ever friends.

A callow noble with waxy blond hair leans over and hurls a walnut that bounces off my forehead.

I snarl.

The noble sneers. “Bow your head when your betters feed you, monster. Aren’t you hungry? Eat.”

The dragons around him laugh.

I stare down at the nut that is lying in the dirt.

He would dare to make fun of a king? A commander of an army that has decimated their own?

Mock my starvation?

I raise my foot and grind the nut into the dirt. Then I merely straighten my shoulders.

These dragons should meet the princesses of the Scarlet Temple. I am not sure which would win in cold-hearted cruelty. Both believe that they are righteous. To the priestesses, I was a monster who deserved to be controlled or killed because I had the Power.

To them, no animalist was a true vampire.

To the dragons, a vampire holds less worth than an animal. If they can kill us as sport, then our deaths will be the best entertainment.

My expression hardens.