Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(66)

“Go, Damek,” I repeated, the anger in my voice paramount.

Still, he stayed.

“Damek!” I roared as I took a step toward him.

This time, the man raised his head, all signs of the cowering, sniveling fool Sain had made him gone. His eyes were hard with the same anger I felt running inside me.

“Do not retrieve the blade yet,” he whispered, his voice so quiet I barely heard him. “Wait. Meet with Sain and find me in the room where Cail took his last breath.”

“What?” I gasped, my voice shaking as much as my body, the conversation no longer making any sense.

“We are playing a game, my queen. I think it is time you joined us.” He shuffled away from me before I had even removed myself from over him, slithering like a snake over the floor in an attempt to get away.

I stood frozen, barely able to coax myself to turn toward the door. I remained still, listening to his retreat.

One stress left as another pressed against my shoulders with a weight I knew wouldn’t leave.

Roles. Queen.

I was already aware that I wasn’t the only one who sought the blood of Sain to be spilled. I wasn’t the only one who was playing this dangerous game.

But did I play it on my own or with them and risk being seen?

You couldn’t hide from a Drak. That much, I knew.

And if I were to succeed, I would have to hide in the darkest shadows. I would have to find my own blood-soaked cloak before I stole his.

With a sigh, I turned away, my steps quick as I made my way out of the closet and toward the hall where Sain was waiting.





15





Situated on that twisted throne of his, Sain sat with his hand atop the repaired remains of my father’s skull. Blood oozed from between his fingers as it ran down the charred bone as though it were weeping blood red tears that dripped onto the floor in long, steady streams.

Looking at him, I expected some injury. But he sat, smiling, the same blood spilling over his face, dripping off his nose and getting tangled in his beard.

He stood then, signaling for me to join him on the stand, something I did in one quick step, no matter how much I was revolted to stand beside him.

“I take it that your plan to destroy the traitors went well?” I asked sweetly, the sound of my heels echoing loudly in the space as he moved right to me, wrapping his blood-soaked skin around me then placing his hand against my jaw.

I tried not to cringe at the contact, at the knowledge that, with that one touch, I would have to throw away the shirt slash short combo I was wearing. I loved this outfit, too.

The blood was cool against my face, the heat of his hand underneath it a stark contrast, one my magic answered to at once. Awakening in a bubble of desperate need I knew I couldn’t fight, it roared under my skin, begging me to reach out to him.

I hated it. My magic wanted his, while my heart wanted him dead. I wished I could fight it. I had tried enough and failed every time.

He sensed the rise of my magic, too, and smiled, the wide grin revealing white teeth against the blood that glistened in his beard.

“It went better than expected.” His smile grew, and my magic bubbled further at the sound of his voice.

It moved around me like jelly. The warmth fueled by the power and authority that drenched his voice, making me lose control of the hatred that had been feeding me.

“Wonderful,” I sighed, the lust seeping into my voice as I leaned closer to him, all thought of saving my outfit forgotten.

“Come, dear,” Sain said as he pulled away, wrapping his slick hand around mine as he led me into the shadows behind his throne, the darkness that used to be reserved for the Drak seers centuries before.

I had always known this space as the forbidden shadows where the Drak would stand amongst us during council, but it didn’t seem so dark, thanks in part to the golden fireflies that dripped from the ceiling. They were little spots of light that fell from the sky, extinguishing with a small hiss.

“What is it?” I asked, the temporary lust leaving as anticipation began to wind within me.

A dark shape beyond the glistening lights came into focus.

Sain’s smile stretched as I dropped his hand, plunging into the dark before him, desperate to see what was before me.

A dark whisper ran over me with each click of my heels against the stone as a warning I didn’t want to acknowledge pounded against my skull. A warning as loud as the whimpers that came from somewhere before us.

Painful, panicked moans grew louder as I stopped in place, the final echo of my heels fading into nothing.

As he left me standing in the dark, the painful cries of what used to be a man whispered before me. The dark shape of the creature was visible beyond the soft hiss of the golden embers that fell from the ceiling to the floor.

Punishment was too simple a word for what Sain had done. I had never seen my father be so cruel. I had never seen a warning of obedience played quite so loudly. The warning echoed in my head, telling me leaving the knife beyond the false wall had been a glaring mistake that I hoped had gone unnoticed by the seer who came up right behind me, the soft touch of his hand against my hip as caustic as acid.

“Come and see,” he whispered, pushing his hand against my waist as he prompted me forward.

I followed, followed and prayed that he hadn’t seen. That this fate would not be my own.

“Beautiful,” I forced the word out, pushing my fear down as the heavy beat of my heels echoed like a bass drum in my head.