Blood Lands (Savage Lands #5)(92)

Bang!

The shot rang out, piercing the walls in surround sound. Lazar and Sonya barely reacted, while Sergiu screamed out as Leon’s body dropped to the ground. Blood pooled from the hole between his eyes.

“You are wrong, Leon. They work for me,” Istvan retorted. The shift in power, in leadership, was like a light switch, guards moving in and around Sonya, Lazar, and Sergiu, holding them at gunpoint.

“Leon was warned.” Istvan snapped around to the remaining leaders. “So, let it be a warning to you... things have changed,” Istvan declared, his head held high with no doubt. “I am your king now.”

Olena moved closer to Istvan with a cruel smile, and her head held with the same conceit and surety. She was his queen.

Ivanenko may not like Istvan being over him, but being on his side with his daughter gave him even more power and control than he had before. He could basically rule and dictate out Istvan’s laws as a sub-king. The king could only do so much, so Ivanenko had made himself basically second in charge.

In one swift move, not only did Istvan have Romania and Czech, but he had Ukraine as well. Three huge power-seated countries. It wouldn’t be long before he took the rest of the Eastern Bloc. Only China might contest; the rest were too poor with insufficient military power to fight.

“What?” Sergiu spurted. “Father, are you going to let him get away with this?”

Lazar grabbed his son’s arm again, his head jerking with a “shut up” motion.

“Your son is an idiot, Alexandru.” Istvan tucked his arms behind his back, strolling a little closer. “And if he ever took rule over Romania, your country would perish. You should thank me for letting your name go down with you—in honor, instead of embarrassment.”

“You should talk.” Alexandru seethed through his teeth. “Where is your son, Markos?”

Istvan dipped his head. “Yes, I know all too well about having a disappointing son. But unlike you, I do not pretend he is otherwise. Truth is, I no longer need him as a successor.”

Acid formed on my tongue upon hearing his claim. It was true. With the nectar, he would live a fae’s lifetime. He could rule for centuries to come. My stomach turned with thoughts of Caden and how we left him, not knowing if he was alive or dead now.

“Though, in six months, I will have one anyway. A boy.” Istvan went to Olena, touching her belly. “A true son and heir over my realm.”

Oh, gods. Olena was pregnant? Now that I was looking, I could make out a slight bump under her dress.

Olena glowed with a proud smile, her hand over his, rubbing her baby bump with smug glee. She was now permanently tied to Istvan.

If I was doing the math right, it meant she had gotten pregnant around the time of her engagement to Caden. Even back then, Istvan had been contriving and strategizing backup plans, seeding another heir from the woman supposedly marrying his son. He could have declared the child as Caden’s or claimed the baby depending on what happened. Rebeka’s fate also was in flux back then too. He had all of it laid out, ready for multiple outcomes.

Now, Caden had become the spare. The one no longer needed.

“I think you see what I will do to keep the strength of my reign. So, sit back and enjoy the entertainment I had planned for you this evening.” I didn’t even see Istvan’s signal before servants carried out throne-like chairs for him and Olena. More servants came with trays of food and drink, while many guards kept their weapons pressed into Sonya, Alexandru, and Sergiu’s heads, ensuring they knew they were no longer guests, but hostages. Leon’s dead body still lay there as people stepped over him as if he were nothing. A reminder of how fast this game changed and how easily you could be taken out of it.

Istvan and Olena sat down in their seats, Ivanenko perched on a more subdued chair slightly behind them, so he didn’t forget where he stood in this.

“Cheers, my dear.” Istvan clinked glasses with Olena. With refreshments in hand, servants waiting for their orders. The pair looked the epitome of a haughty king and queen, gazing down on their peasants.

“How is the view, darling?” Istvan patted Olena’s hand, the other one on the box Tracker had placed on a table next to him. His gaze stayed down on me. Tracker stood behind his chair. Not quite a prince’s position, but where an elite guard or right-hand man would be. “Are you ready for some fun?”

“More than you know, my love.” She nuzzled into him, staring up at him like a crown was already on his head, herself the queen of all.

“I can imagine you are...” He chuckled almost conspiratorially. “Go ahead. Do the honors.”

“What the fuck?” Warwick muttered, suddenly jerking his head back toward the fighters’ tunnels, his forehead wrinkling, his body stiffening as if he sensed something. Before I could follow his gaze, Olena’s voice sang out like a giddy schoolgirl.

“Guards, bring them out!”

I was starting to think she wasn’t as vapid as she looked. The bitch was conniving and manipulating.

The side gates squealed behind me, where Warwick had his full focus. His forehead creased, twisting me around to follow his gaze.

“Fuck.” I heard Warwick mutter before two figures were shoved out roughly onto the dirt, their bodies hitting with a thud.

Oxygen ripped from my lungs, the ground once again crumbling under my feet.