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Which means the Corpse King’s linemustend with me. If so, all nations will plunge into war. And Allysteir is bound to Kryach. As long as I am bound to him, I am doomed. But with Aydon...with this kind and charismatic Prince, who has born the entire nation and has treated my sweetheart with such care and affection, perhaps we may beat the gods...with or without a child. Allysteir will want me to bear his future child, but Aydon could bepersuaded...
And as he’d declared: he was the one I’d truly vowed myself to.
No, I do not desire Aydon regardless of his shrewd offer. Still, I angle my neck to the side and welcome his mouth again because he could hold the secret to the murdered and marked imitation brides, a secret the Corpse King refuses to share. But I must tread as lightly as the Cryth River spirits. I cannot ask tonight.
Aydon is not the only one who can wear a political mask.
Frozen in this fatal limbo, I don’t resist when he presses his body to mine, when he feasts on my mouth to scrape his Ith teeth along my bottom lip until he ruthlessly pulls away. A growl unleashes from his throat. Our gazes meet, suspended in the thick web of tension. I pant and manage a smile before Aydon nods and bows his head.
“My Lady Queen, I must return to my bride now. Thank you. I trust you will consider my offer...” He pays his final respect by kissing the back of my hand while I purse my swollen lips and say nothing. My flushed countenance betrays everything.
His offer is tempting. Too tempting. Because two choices present themselves: I accept Aydon and become the true Mallyach-Ender as we strive to conquer the gods with or without a child.
Or I remain the Bride of the Corpse King, the Mistress of the God of Death, doom or scar my soul, and leave the kingdom to darkness and destruction.
* * *
“I wish to take you somewhere else tomorrow following my Death business,” Allysteir offers over our nightly meal. I, alone, eat while he contents himself with Sythe wine. Not as much as usual since he dined earlier on my flesh. He moved from my throat to my belly as he’d once indicated. No scars of course, but I remember the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into my plump flesh. It’s been a week since my interlude with Aydon in the library.
The last time when Allysteir selected my inner thigh for his feast, I’d screamed loud enough to draw the attention of all his refter brides. I’d lain nude upon a bed of corpus roses with black death rose vines above my head. But I hadn’t screamed from the pain so much as wailed from his fingers driving deep into my sex, thumb tickling my clitoral knot, and tongue twirling my knot while my thigh blood trickled upon the roses.
Sometimes, I chastise myself, chew my lower lip, ridiculing myself for caving so quickly. It’s only been six months since our wedding night. Then again, I half-caved to Aydon in far less.
But six months feels like six years in the Underworld of Nathyan Ghyeal. And Allysteir has proven trustworthy. Besides, why should I deny myself these pleasures? Not once has he asked me for any favors despite feeling his cock’s desire every damned time!
I curl my fingers, reflecting on his vacant skull eyes, on the angles of his bone mask, so delicate, it reminds me of porcelain. Those hollow eyes do not shift, do not move, frozen upon my person.
What game is he playing? What lies beyond his mask?
Oh, confound it all! I clench my fingers. Because this Corpus King will drive me mad! Ever We never speak of Kryach, of the doom awaiting me.
“Another surprise? Achallenge, my husband?” I smirk beyond the lip of my wine glass.
“You should know me by now, my beautiful bride,” Allysteir casually adds and sips at his glass.
I raise my chin and subtly offer him a wink. “I will come with you tomorrow...if you tell me more about Aydon.”
I register the shift in his countenance. Good. He hardens his muscles beneath those robes. His posture tightens like his clenched teeth. And I drum my fingers along the table absentmindedly because I know I’ve already won.
Finally, those robes heave, and Allysteir relents, “I am the younger brother, Isla. And a bastard!”
I close my eyes, understanding the meaning behind his words. “Tradition dictates the Corpse Curse goes to the elder brother. And one to follow in the line of Corpse Kings.”
“The night my...Aydon’s father passed, it was the longest night of my life...”
His blood drowned the floor.
A throbbing pang invaded my chest as I entered the royal bed chamber following the Corpse King’s savage scream. Simply King since he was restored. The Curse would eventually mark Aydon as the successor once Thayne’s spirit passed to the halls of his ancestors. Ever since Mathyr alerted me at the young age of eight that the King was not my true father, he was always Thayne. I suppose it was justification for myself and a burden relieved.
Whenever he’d regarded me with nothing but leers or sneers at our suppers, whenever we passed each other in halls and he’d bit his thumb after I’d turned my back when he believed I wasn’t looking, wheneverMathysontook time to train me in court politics?a responsibility Thayne had neglected?and jested with me about how he’d steal a bone from Thayne’s rotted corpse when they were younger and hide it for weeks before the King would find it, I knew long before Mathyr ever confirmed.
Nor did I care how Thayne considered me nothing more than bastard bone powder. Because I had Mathyr’s protection. And Aydon’s fraternity.
Thick as thieves, we would spend our childhood escaping our stuffy elder tutors, roam the wonders of Nathyan Ghyeal from the deepest pits aflame with jewels to the halls of the tombed kings to the Tolle Caverns?the secret exit out of the White Ladies. With our twin parietal bones, we would conquer bone stallions and ride to Talahn-Feyal’s borders, straddle the kingdom lines, and taunt the Sythe patrols because all war was god-forbidden according to the Curse.
For over a decade, Aydon and I were inseparable. The wild Princes of Talahn-Feyal. The Underworld was ours. I remembered the night we slit our wrists down to the bone to drain as much blood as possible. How we mixed it and vowed a high-stakes gamble over who could find the Mallyach-Ender first.
We shared our deepest secrets. We swam naked in the Sea of Bones and dried ourselves upon the shore while eating Isle fruit from the tiny spot of land we only knew existed thanks to our grandmother’s stories. Aydon shared his keen mind of countless historical records, how he would inherit the throne from Thayne and make Talahn-Feyal the envy of all nations in Talahn-Feyhran.
