A Kingdom of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales Book 3)(71)

The tip of the whip sliced my flesh. Searing pain met pleasure. My brain drifted away from both feelings.

I’d given Calia a week to free as many people as possible from the suppression spell. Most of the dragons had been released, and they’d also freed the more powerful shifters and faeries. We had about as much power as we would get.

Now it was my turn.

My interlude with the officers had turned out exactly like I hoped. I’d stuck my fists out of the cell to be cuffed, soggy crowded everlass in one hand (steeped to start the release of the poison) and dried crowded everlass in the other. Though a little liquid had dripped from my hand as we made our way, they hadn’t appeared to notice. When passing the large copper canister of their brewing fizzy drink, I’d snapped the cuffs, killed an officer, and knocked into the large canister as if I’d tripped.

In reality, I used the distraction to drop in the leaves.

The officers, as hoped, ran to secure the canister as I pretended to try to escape.

That was when I got a refresher on the officers’ ability to randomly pop out of nowhere, whips in hand. They had dragged a terribly weak me (my acting prowess was on point) to the whipping post, secured me in, and here we were…just waiting for the crowded everlass to do its job.

They wouldn’t dip into their strange drink until tomorrow, according to Weston. After the drink would come the lull, their period of rest, and the length of that break apparently depended on how much power they’d poured into the process. The more power they harvested from us, the stronger their creations. The stronger the creatures, the longer the officers needed to recover from making them. The guards talked about it here and there, and over the years, Weston had paid careful attention.

Nyfain’s job had probably been harder these last months because I’d been feeding the guards our combined power. My presence here was harming him in more ways than one.

Okay, pity party, keep it together, my dragon thought. You can only go to pieces when you are back in his arms.

I didn’t understand the logic but agreed with the sentiment.

When the officers were resting or celebrating or whatever it was they did, they’d drink most of that fizzy stuff. They wouldn’t know they’d been poisoned until they were dying. Crowded everlass worked quickly and didn’t have a strong flavor.

Don’t fuck with an everlass-loving dragon.

Crack.

I rubbed my finger across another groove.

I could feel Nyfain’s despair. He was trying to hide it from me, I knew, but it kept growing. I also felt his impatience.

An imaginary clock ticked in my head. I barely felt the vibrating pain mingling with pleasure as it raged through my body. All I could focus on was tomorrow. There were so many moving parts to our escape plan, the largest of which was the Bridge of Doom.

I didn’t have a fucking clue how we’d make it over that.

Crack.

Apparently the strength of the magic was now ten times what it was during one of the last escapes. That was guesswork on Micah’s part, but it stood to reason. Our reactions when we went over it were much more severe than anyone else remembered.

I pulled more power from Nyfain, stuffing it into the air around me. A very distinct snuffling sound indicated the officers were eagerly consuming it.

The bridge was the only path we could take. Hadriel, Weston, and I had looked at every possible exit route. All of the others would run through guard stations, idling demons, or other groups that would sound the alarm. We could kill everyone we ran across, but eventually there would be too many of them. They had an enormous castle of demons ready to die for their king, and we had a cluster of weakened shifters and faeries. The odds weren’t in our favor.

Bile rose in my throat, and my stomach swirled as my mind turned to Nyfain’s kingdom.

We didn’t have great odds of making a stand in Wyvern either, something Micah, Weston, and even Calia had said to me after hearing Hadriel’s update on our general numbers. More dragons had been awakened in our kingdom, yes, but they were young. Inexperienced. They wouldn’t help us in a battle. The rest of the shifters, experienced or not, were the mediocre or lesser-powered shifters who’d suffered years of demon abuse.

I’d seen the lengths the king was willing to go to get what he wanted. All he’d have to do was keep throwing demons at us until we were buried under the onslaught. There were too many of them.

But I liked our shitty odds better than the thought of spending another minute away from Nyfain.

Pain sucked at me, pulling me down.

“Two more and then release her,” the first officer said, hovering around me.

“But first officer, I believe the king has no more use for her.”

“That is true, officer,” the first officer said. They never used actual names with each other. Not in front of us, anyway. They didn’t even use nicknames. It was a shame, because I’d given them a few they could’ve adopted. Like Dickface Barney or Turd Goblin Sue. “But that kind of work must be savored, and the end of the cycle is upon us. We’ll finish our other duties before we do his bidding. We have plenty of time.”

“Yes, first officer,” the minion said before doling out two more lashes that stung like hell and then standing aside.

They hauled me back downstairs and to my cell. Jedrek sat with his back to the wall, watching as they dropped me inside.

“I have valuable information for the king,” he told the officers, leaning forward. “Very valuable. About who has been messing with the parties and escape attempts…”