Page 39 of The Fallen Fae King

Where is it coming from?

“That doesn’t sound very brotherly,” Horus calls, as if he is lounging indolently at one of the orgies that he loves to plan. “Come closer. I have a wedding gift for you. Aren’t you grateful? We are family, after all.”

I don’t miss the sneer on family.

We aren’t in public now. The House of Crocodile never pretended when we were in private that we were truly family.

When I was young and an exile from court, Lazarus and I dreamed about visiting the Blood Court and finally meeting our brothers and sisters.

We were naïve fools.

I run, as shadows trail behind me, to the end of the walkway. The large crocodile lumbers out of the pool, following at my heels.

I can’t wait to feed Horus to his own sacred pets.

When I reach the marble terrace, however, my eyes widen.

Isis is casually sitting on the golden divan, which is stitched with emerald thread like crocodile skin, which overlooks the pools.

This is where the ex-consort likes to welcome the nobles, acting as if it is an alternative court to my own.

Like she always intended for the House of Crocodile to be the next dynasty.

Isis appears regal, even though she is wearing a simple linen robe, with her usual single ornament, a malachite crocodile badge, which is fastened at one side.

Her eyes are clear and bright.

Yet my gaze instantly snaps away from Isis to Horus, who is sitting on a high-backed ebony chair next to her.

He is clutching Freya on his lap.

Horus’ long claws rest dangerously close to the pulsing artery in my Omega’s neck, as do his fangs on the other side.

I drop my hand to cradle my Ankh mark protectively.

I can’t feel Freya through it, however, just like I can’t feel Daire.

Freya’s eyes are open but vacant.

She is too lost in her own mind, buried beneath Horus’ vile compulsions.

She looks like a doll.

My wolf should never look like that.

My bat wings beat in fury.

I will rescue you, my Queen.

Isis tuts. “What are you doing with our crocodile? You know better than to play with animals in this house.”

“And you know better than to play with someone else’s Omega.” I stride forward. The crocodile stalks next to me. Her claws click across the marble. Her heavy scales rasp, as her muscular body shifts from side to side. Horus swallows. “But here we are.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I had a gift for you?” Horus is slurring his words. “Don’t you like it? Should I have wrapped the wolf in pretty ribbons like the priestesses have taught you to wear in your hair, as if a monster like you can be made beautiful?”

Is he still drunk?

He looks a state. He is dangerous like this.