Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(60)

“Damek has assured me that your skills are beyond compare, that your loyalty toward me has grown beyond what your kind is capable.”

Despite my kind words, a hint of danger infected them, poison dripping from each syllable. It was not something that was missed.

As I sprang from my podium, the blood cloak rippled behind me with the sound of a loud crack.

“Is this true?” I asked as I circled behind Bronislav, my voice a cool chill in the harshness of the winter we were trapped in.

Bronislav shivered under the pressure. Each of the others glanced at him in fear, the reality of what was happening hitting them.

The wave of my magic smothered them with the deep emotion I was convinced they had thought they had escaped.

Layer by layer, I stripped away their pathetic securities, leaving them bare and exposed. The temporary calm I had given them before was nothing more than a cruel joke now, a joke I was certain they would kill to have returned.

“Yes, my king,” the elderly man whispered.

“Good.”

Withdrawing my magic enough that the lies of safety and stability could find their way past again, I stopped before them, my spine tingling in exhilaration for the trap I was about to set.

“My sight has shown me the greatness that I am to rule. It has shown me what you will become and what I am to command. It has shown me a death, a single death that will lead to this, and the bravery of the three who will bring it to me.” I paused, my smile struggling to remain hidden before I continued on. “I have seen you three within the walls of Prague. I have seen you in battle, and together, I have seen you destroy Ilyan Krul, the usurper who has kept our races controlled for centuries.”

The fear they’d had before left in a breath. A gasp escaped Georg whose eyes were so wide I didn’t think he would ever be able to close them again.

“I have seen you behead the would-be king of the Sk?íteks and deliver the dripping monstrosity to me. I have watched us all indulge in his still beating heart.”

Open glances passed between the three as anticipation grew, everything from before forgotten as I handed them their archenemy on a platter.

They had been trained to think of him as such, and that brainwashing ran so deep it even trumped the need for revenge that had fueled them to date.

“In a few days’ time, I will be re-opening the pits. I will be recommencing the promotion battles for the Chosen and letting the blood flow again. In the pits, we will present this delicious gift to the masses, and you will be the ones to do it.” Perhaps it was wrong to lie, but with the excitement on their faces, it didn’t matter. Also, I didn’t care. “I need you to make that happen.” Glaring at Alojz as I spoke the last few words, I let the possibility of the scene play into his ego.

Feet shuffling in eagerness, eyes wide as glances passed between them, they stood. The awe of having escaped the wrath they were convinced they would meet mixed perfectly with the future I had displayed before them.

The chess pieces moved forward.

“You have seen all this?” Alojz asked, his eyes narrowing at me.

I jerked, not liking the way he questioned me, not liking the depth of his eyes as they bore into me. It was the same as Ovailia, that smug power I had no interest in seeing.

He had no power.

Just as she had no power.

No matter how many fires they put out.

The others looked at him in confusion, obviously not understanding why he would question such a gift as this. Their own need for Ilyan’s death drowned out their better logic.

Alojz was wiser than I had assumed, it seemed.

My own silent warning met his dead-on. Eyes narrowing, I took a step forward, my silent threat understood.

“My king.”

But obviously not in its entirety.

I wasn’t a fool. The well-kempt man wasn’t asking if I had seen this; he was asking how deeply I was able to see.

I smiled, careful to keep the wicked gleam out of my eyes. The wide grin portrayed a calm comfort that was almost more perverse than letting the warning glare through my eyes. “Bronislav,” I said, still not letting my eyes drift from Alojz’s. “Come here.”

I could see Bronislav hesitate out of the corner of my eye, his jaw slack as he looked between Alojz and me. The former returned his look in confusion. I still did not look away from the man before me. His own confusion spiraled into fear as the older Trpaslík finally moved to join me.

“I wasn’t going to do this,” I said with a sigh, removing a small leather pouch from the pocket of my worn and baggy jeans, “but seeing as Alojz needs proof of what is to come …”

Without warning, I reached forward, grabbing Bronislav’s hand and pouring a small amount of the liquid from the pouch over his skin.

On contact, he began to scream, the powerful magic in the water burning through him. Meanwhile, I felt the cool comfort of the liquid, my sigh of contentment lost under the sound of Bronislav’s screams.

“Black Water,” I announced, my voice distant as I felt my magic begin to connect with it. The powerful wave of sight moved into me as my magic connected with his reality, with his fate. “The true power of the Drak. The power that shows me everything.”

Blinking, my eyes drifted to black.

The gasp of shock and fear from Georg and Alojz was a whisper before sight took me completely, before images of Bronislav’s life passed before me.