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I freeze in my tracks and face Ifrynna. “Kryach?”
“In all his glorious, dark God-flesh.” She deadpans.
Blinking a few times, I search the labyrinth of my mind, seeking an explanation, but Kryach’s essence and power dwell within me, not his spirit. “Kryach never leaves his Isle-realm, save for the rare occasion when he wishes to torment me in person.” Something he does every hundred years or so. Like a tether, he’ll summon me through one of the infernal gateways so he may converse face to face. “So, why...?”
When Ifrynna slow-turns her three heads to me, luminescent pupils dilating, a muscle ticks in my one good cheek. All my nerves turn raw. Kryach disappeared the moment after I’d consumed Isla’s flesh and blood. I was far too preoccupied with savoring her, confronting my brother, and enduring her questions at the supper to assume anything was different from his usual soul-reaping. Why would he leave his empyrean realm?
“He’s been whispering her name within the Nether-Void, Allysteir,” Ifrynna says, prompting a tingling in my chest. “Seeking any souls of her ancestors to learn more, my King.”
Never in all the centuries has Kryach done such a thing. It means he’s showing such interest in my bride for one reason alone. For the first time in history, Kryach wants more than my bride’s soul. He wants everything.
Over. My. Rotting. Fucking. Body.
At first,I believe it’s Allysteir’s gloved fingers upon my throat rousing me...until they coil around my neck. They choke me, suffocating my air. My Nether-mark flares, barraging a violent heat along my spine. I thrash in the blankets and open my mouth to scream until a firm hand slams on my lips, forbidding more breath. Tears stream from my eyes which fly wide-open to Elder Kanat. The black capillaries in his skin writhe, pulsing through the surface?evidence of a recent feeding, of his strength.
“You foolish, insipid girl!” he hisses in my face, breath hot as flaming coals.
Whether it’s some birth instinct, part of my childhood in an orphanage, or my history battling refters, I don’t have a healthy sense of fear. My blooming thorny weapons grow from the floor while I bite Elder Kanat’s hand. Hard!
Jerking back, Kanat snarls, baring his honed teeth. A flush of pride rears in my cheeks because blood trickles the backs of his knuckles. Before I can move, Kanat pins me to the bed, straddling me with his long braid thwacking my cheek with its small wishbones. My attack, my struggle spurs him on. I freeze when he mouths my neck above the King’s mark. Disgusted, I swallow hard and thrust my face to the side while grappling for air from how he’s mounted me. His scarlet robe is a blood moon against the dusky backdrop of the velvet bedspread.
“Did you tell him my lips were on yours?” he demands, purring low. I wrench my neck away. “And my chest vertebra in your hand? My prior claim?” When he thrusts his body harder, I whimper from the pressure. My skin crawls from his lips voyaging to my cheek, his claws digging into my wrists from where he secures them on each side of my head. “Your moan in my mouth?” he finishes, stabbing his hips and somethinghardbetween my clenched thighs. “I should spoil your virtue now, so you have no choice but to be my bride.”
My Nether-mark turns to pure ice. Ignited, I hold back bile and hurl my spit at his face, glorying in his teeth gritting when I dare him, “Go ahead! With the King’s venom and Aryahn Kryach’s claim on me, the God of Death will never accept another sacrifice from you. Or maybe he’ll strip you of all magic or simply strike you dead for interfering with his offering.” I wag my brows, triumphant.
Elder Kanat and I match wits?a stalemate of stares. His eyes are darker than ever; the forest transforms to deep green smoke as he squints, eyeing my lips, though his jaw tightens in scorn. I heave breaths and wrinkle my nose, refusing to retreat.
Fear steeps my spine when he opens his mouth and scrapes his teeth along my neck. “Or perhaps I will pit my venom and every ounce of my magic against the King’s.” He leans in and nips my ear, stabbing his hips deeper. I squirm, slamming my eyes shut. “For what I have planned for you, little Isla,” he finishes in a whisper, “I will sacrifice everything.”
“Will you sacrifice your blood, Elder?” a familiar voice interjects.
Relieved, I sigh and open my eyes to the Queen herself standing on the side of the bed. A long bone dagger in hand, she presses the blade against Elder Kanat’s throat. Behind Gryzelda stands Franzy, her arms squeezing tight to herself. Her amber eyes are heated in revulsion upon the elder.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kanat seethes at the Queen, then turns back to me. I purse my lips but lean back into the pillows as far as possible, putting as much distance between my inner thighs and his member as possible.
His eyes waver, he snorts, and pushes on my hands. The Queen relents, removing her dagger slow, retrieving it once he climbs off me and the bed. She sheathes her dagger at her scabbard fixed to a gold and iron belt around her gown.
I prop myself on my elbows and sneer at the Elder, then stick out my tongue. After tugging on his robes to right them, Kanat sniffs, narrows his eyes on me, and twists his mouth into a glower.
“This isn’t over,” he finalizes and shoves his way past Franzy and the Queen.
“Run away, you bony bastard!” I taunt, reveling in his low growl before he slams my chamber door.
Franzy rushes to throw her arms around me. “Isla!” I smile and welcome her warmth, her embrace, ignoring how my mouth brushes the Prince’s bite mark on her neck. “I came to talk and saw the elder threaten you. I didn’t want to risk the soldiers, but the Queen’s chambers are next to yours, so I?”
I kiss her lightly on the lips and cup the side of her face in reassurance. “You did the right thing, Franzy. Thank you.” I nod at Gryzelda in gratitude, eyes softening while hers do not.
“I didn’t do it for you,” she announces, her words clipped and predictable. “The last thing this kingdom needs is a Curse-bond broken. You offered yourself with your proposal, and my son accepted your offering. His venom and Kryach’s essence circulates in your blood now. It’s simple.” She juts her chin out, then nods, dismissive while swaying toward the door, but I smirk to one side anyway. She might have a scar of a soul, but maybe it’s warming to me. “My son will arrive soon with your midday meal. I suggest you tend your wounds and prepare yourself.”
“Aren’t you going to tell the King?” I wonder as she departs.
Gryzelda pauses and shakes her head. “No. And this is the last time I help you. If you can’t handle a simple elder, how will you survive the God of Death?”
Chewing on my lower lip, I ponder her words and examine my wrists. Huh...I hadn’t realized Kanat had drawn blood. When I glance back, the Queen’s gown is disappearing around the corner of the closing door.
After I wince from the wounds, Franzy hurries to grab a rag and the basin of water resting on a table in the corner of the room. I beam as she spills some of the water on her way to me.
“Thank you, my bonnya sweet,” I say, dabbing at my wrist wounds.
