Dark Skye (Immortals After Dark #15)(22)

Emberine gave an exaggerated frown. “I’m afraid our friend Lanthe is already smitten—with the demon angel.”

Smitten?

Melanthe’s blackened eyes widened. “He and his knights have hunted my sister and me, killing Sabine over and over, forcing me to burn through my persuasion to save her life.”

Again, she repeated her claims? Though he’d told her about his knights’ vows?

Emberine tsked at Thronos. “Naughty knights oughtn’t to have brained Sabine in front of young Lanthe.”

Melanthe turned to him, her face tight with rage. “Yet that one doesn’t believe me!”

This one . . . is starting to. At least about attacks actually happening. Maybe some kind of offshoot group had targeted the sisters.

In a contemplative tone, Portia asked, “Do you think it’s possible that our handsome prince doesn’t know what his kinsmen do to our kind when they’re drunken and frustrated?”

Vrekeners never imbibe, he thought automatically, though he knew that wasn’t true. He had but once in his life, yet his brother secretly carried a golden flask, one stolen from a sorcerer he’d defeated.

Aristo loved few things better than warring with Sorceri. Just as their father had. It was a source of contention between the brothers.

Portia faced Melanthe once more. “Such an infamously hostile past between you and the Vrekener. Your sister beheaded his father, and you personally crippled him, even though you’re his mate.” How indifferently the sorceress spoke of tragedies! “Then Vrekeners hunted you. Which was why your reactions over the last week perplexed us.”

Melanthe’s head swung up, confusion in her eyes. Instead of demanding to know what that sorceress was talking about, she snapped, “Let’s just get to this—”

“Shall we tell you, Felix?” Emberine asked coyly. “Every time the Vrekener was even mentioned, Lanthe’s cheeks would heat, her eyes turning metallic.”

Thronos stilled. Could it be true?

“That emotion was hate,” Melanthe spat, but he got the impression that her feelings were far more complicated than that.

He had no delusions about his own feelings. Like a stream carving a groove through rock, her actions had forever transformed him. He would always despise her.

Portia said, “Then you won’t mind if we skin him? Crush him under the weight of a mountain?”

Melanthe gave a snort of disbelief. “Be—my—guest. And do save me a seat.”

Or perhaps she hated as deeply as he did.

Emberine stroked the backs of her metal claws across Portia’s bared thigh as she addressed Melanthe: “You gave him his wounds before he could regenerate. Did he find you as a boy then?”

Of not even twelve.

“It’s known that a Vrekener will never stray from a mate.” Emberine laughed as she said, “Tell us, Lanthe, is the mighty warlord a virgin? Is the angel pure as driven snow? Or was the demon in him an early starter?”

Thronos set his jaw. Not—a—demon.

Melanthe didn’t answer. At least she refused to join in their ridicule.

Emberine’s gaze roved over him, desire plain on her face. “I must initiate him!”

He could remain silent no longer. “Try it, slattern. Free me, and try it.”

They tittered at that. “Oh, Portia, I know I could get him to stray!”

Best of luck. You think I haven’t endeavored to? He glanced in Melanthe’s direction. How would she feel about him being with another?

Though her face was blank, her eyes shimmered.

“We can’t waste time on that, Ember.” Portia seemed . . . jealous? “We move on with our plans.”

With another laugh, Emberine sprinted to Melanthe, faster than Thronos’s eyes could follow. In a heartbeat’s time, she’d crossed the clearing, stopping behind Melanthe to position a blade at her slender throat, hovering above that collar.

“No!” Thronos bellowed, his instinct screaming for him to protect his mate.

The metal was simmering red from Emberine’s hold. It would slice through Melanthe’s flesh. She swallowed, wincing from the heat.

Portia rose, riding a cloud of pebbles toward the two females, readying a severed hand for the torque removal.

Felix—the as-good-as-dead sorcerer—followed, seeming amused by the proceedings.

Emberine told Melanthe, “You’re about to do precisely as we say, or you’ll die. But before Portia releases your powers, we’re going to ensure that you can’t call out any persuasive commands.” She gripped Melanthe’s cheeks. “Now, stick out your tongue like a good little queen.”





TEN


Lanthe’s thoughts were in turmoil.

Encountering Felix again after all these years was throwing her. Not to mention seeing Ember’s lust for Thronos. The fire queen’s need to seduce him had affected Lanthe in surprising ways, ways she’d have to think about later.

For now, she was a mite busy preparing for an amputation. Sweat dripped down her forehead and neck, pooling against her damned collar.

“Lose your tongue, and gain your freedom,” Ember sneered.

Thronos bellowed at that, his wings flaring inside his cage. As if he cared about Lanthe. He acted this way because of uncontrollable instincts—despite hating everything about her.