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“Not your fault,” she murmurs and tries to smile, but it’s a bloody mess. “We’ll get out of this.”
I nod and let her have her fantasy. I know there isn’t a way out of this, even if I manage to wake every dragon in here. Aeron isn’t going to simply free us for a job well done. I keep these thoughts to myself, and I silently pray to any god or goddess that will listen to keep Mina and Malix safe.
I can’t lose the people I love.
Chapter 26
Malix
Five days.
That’s how long it took for Allarick’s men to gather the four other kings of Mescos. Each day ticks by agonizingly slowly and is another day lost. Another day the Nephilim grow stronger and risking our livelihoods.
Another day away from Rose.
I tried to sense her through our bond, but we haven’t had enough time to nurture and grow it. I can’t communicate with her from this far of a distance. I can vaguely sense her, so I know she is alive—what little comfort that brings—but I don’t know if she is okay. If she misses me.
Admittedly, that last one is my own selfish desire.
Checking in with Vivia does little to ease my nerves. Her connection to Mina is spotty at best, but she reasons that is because we are far from home. She’s probably correct, but I still feel a sense of unease.
I force those thoughts to the back of my mind as I prepare for this morning’s meeting. Not too long ago, one of Allarick’s errand boys sent word to Vivia and me. The last ruler, the demon king, arrived ten minutes ago. Initially I was irritated by the demon’s lack of punctuality, but then I heard he had considered not coming at all and my anger morphed into something else entirely.
Was it wise to pull each king away from their territory amid the brewing war? Perhaps not, but there is no other option. Not when death is knocking at our door.
I dress in my normal black breeches with a leather vest over my brown tunic. It’s simple, but effective to get my point across. I’m taking no shit today.
I meet Vivia outside my cabin. She’s dressed similarly in black breeches and a black tunic, her preferred color.
“You ready, My King?” she asks, looking me over once.
There’s no use in lying to Vivia. She sees right through my bullshit, so I just shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”
We walk in companionable silence to the spot we met Allarick at a few days ago. Only this time we aren’t alone. Four powerful men stand in a semicircle, their bodies tense as they size one another up. From the corner of my eye, I see Vivia roll her eyes.
“Too much damn testosterone,” she murmurs, and I’m inclined to agree.
For as long as I can recall, each territory has held peace with one another. A few spats occasionally creep up, but none that would jeopardize the relative peace of Mescos. Still, we are wary of one another and for good reasons. Our loyalty first and foremost is to our people, and we will cut down anyone who threatens us. No one is off-limits.
Rip, the wolf alpha, notices me first. His honey-colored eyes bore into mine. I allow myself a moment to take him in. He’s let his hair grow out since the last time I saw him, pulled back into a tight knot on the back of his head. He stands shirtless, his bronze muscles comparable to dragons, which makes sense. Both our species are built to withstand our beasts inside us.
Shifters are leery of other shifters, but we have created a mutual respect. Like me, Rip lost his parents at a young age and was forced to take over his pack. He fought for his place and has earned every bit of his feral reputation. Not that I would ever admit it to him, but the wolves are lucky to have him as their alpha.
“Malix,” he greets, inclining his head in a gesture of respect.
I returned the gesture. “Rip.”
The other three rulers size me up, but don’t speak. Which is fine with me, I’m not up for small talk. The semicircle is tense enough without forced conversation. We wait in awkward silence until Allarick appears from the depths, his body dripping with water and his locs thrown over his shoulder.
“We better get this started,” he says, and everyone nods in agreement.
“Let’s make this fast. I’m meeting with Ender,” Oziel, the demon king, says.
Naturally, his words pique my interest. “You’re making a deal with Ender?”
Demons are known for their deals and contracts. They are businessmen at heart, and make sure their deals always favor themselves. Some call them corrupt, but it’s in a demon’s nature to cause a bit of mischief and chaos.
Oziel’s mouth widens into a toothy smile, one that would make a lesser man’s hair on the back of their neck stand up. Oziel is unpredictable on a good day and outright hellish on a bad. “Why, yes. Similar to the one you made, I’ve heard.” Oziel looks around the room at the other rulers. “And one that every man here has made. For the good of their people, of course.”
