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Chapter 3
Itrailed behind Mrak and Karn as we made our way toward the front gates of the palace. Nerves caught in my throat, but I did my best to swallow them down. With Mrak, I was safe. But my mind whirred.
Flashes of the chaos from Cassius’s manor warred with that feeling of safety now that I was with Mrak in Kithonia. Cassius’s feeder community had been chaos. ChaosI’dcaused, and the demon hunters with whom Leif had sided had only added to the bedlam by attacking at the same time. There’d been so many dead. So much blood. And then fire. Endless fire.
Here, in Kithonia, silence surrounded us so strongly, I wondered briefly—every now and again—if maybe this wasn’t Kithonia, but some afterlife instead. But Mrak was here, and every part of his conversation with Karn had snapped me back to reality.
But the reality was a recently abandoned palace in Kithonia, now home to a resistance against Mrak’s brother, and me, a lone human in a world of shadow demons. There’d been a time, brief as it had been, when I’d feared what Mrak was and what I’d tied myself to. The hours had been fleeting, as I’d figured an entity who’d saved and made a deal with me wouldn’t want me dead. But that uncertainly had kept me up at night.
That same uncertainty settled within me now as I followed Mrak and Karn. The few palace staff that were here continued to openly stare as we passed, their curiosities open for me to read.
I focused on Mrak and the way his hands felt on mine. His real hands, physically here and not just some ethereal shadow he could manifest. I wanted to pull them around me, to get as close to Mrak as I could, and stay by his side forever.
Instead, these fleeting moments were cut short as we arrived at the palace entrance and emerged out into the courtyard. The front gates, elaborate arches with metalwork leaves and vines up the entire structure, sat a couple hundred yards away with more shadow demons clamoring to get through. Mrak’s people. And still the sight caused me pause even as Mrak and Karn approached them.
My mind swam, a memory rising to the surface in this moment as I found myself surrounded by dozens of shadow demons. I remembered the way Lazarus’s tone had barely held fear whenever he’d spoke of demons. How my first captor and deliverer of so much trauma had been so desperate for weapons against those demons that he’d risked some of his feeders to forge nightsteel—the only known material, according to Lazarus, that could damage those demons.
And now here I was, amongst them with a portal to Earth still potentially out there somewhere. The very same present Lazarus had once feared. He’d been right about exactly one thing: Sylas was making power moves, and invading Earth might just be one of them.
“Silence!” Karn called as he and Mrak approached their people. “Open the gates. Allow them passage to safety.”
The guards on watchtowers to each side of the gates nodded and began opening them. The shadow demons poured in as soon as they could, only stopping themselves short, questioning looks on their faces as they came face to face with Mrak. The first to make eye contact with him balked and backpedaled, bumping into others.
“It’s the Dark King!” one of the shadow demons shouted, which set off a chorus of echoes. Some sounded scared, many sounded angry.
I swallowed hard again, taking a step back involuntarily. Mrakhadsaid he hadn’t always been well-liked.
“And he has returned to Kithonia to end the Thief King’s rule!” Karn shouted over the brewing chaos.
Mrak exchanged a quick look with him, an unheard conversation passing quickly between them. Karn nodded.
Mrak lifted his hands in the air. “Sylas’s rule will end, and I will take back what isours.”
“You’re no better than him!” someone cried out. Several others hollered their agreements. Shadows swarmed the courtyard as dissent grew.
I stood straighter, not wanting to appear scared by the same shadows that I’d once only known on Mrak. But in the process of trying to look as though I belonged, several shadow demons pinned me with glares.
“Ahuman?” A female shadow demon dressed in finery shouted with disgust thick in her tone. “What is a human doing in Kithonia?”
Mrak didn’t bristle. “She is yourqueen.”
“Over our dead bodies!” another shadow demon shouted. Cheers erupted.
I fell back against Mrak as panic set in.
“The Thief King takes those pets, too,” the demon beside her agreed. His clawed fists were clenched at his sides, tearing at a long tunic top as if he were restraining himself from acting on his anger. “The Tyrant king is no different than his brother.”
Guilt slammed into me. I’d made this situation worse with my presence. Karn had even warned against bringing me here.
Mrak stepped forward and raised his voice. “I am very different, I assure you of that. Youknowthat I am! Your new queen will bring you the one thing my brother will not.”
“Fragility!” a few demons shouted in unison. More choruses of agreement rang out.
Karn stepped before Mrak and placed a hand on Mrak’s arm, ushering him back toward the palace without forcibly doing so. Another look passed between them, one I recognized as him pleading with Mrak.
“An heir,” Karn said, still staring down Mrak. “Stability in power and line of succession. Andcompassion.” He lowered his chin and whispered something to Mrak that was too quick for me to comprehend. Only then did Mrak turn back to me and the entrance to the palace and stalk closer.
Karn replaced his attention on the crowd of angry refugees. I understood where that anger came from. These demons had expected safety and refuge and had instead been met with a king who’d been exiled by his brother for being less than kind—a king who’d brought with him a human bride no less. I might’ve even believed that Sylas had orchestrated those rumors to take over power if Mrak himself hadn’t admitted to being cruel.
