Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(75)

“I let him in to make sure the throne went to those who had always held it, to someone who understood it,” Kamoi replied loudly, his face going red. “You were supposed to take Lani, not Kamini. I let him in to protect my people—”

“You let him in for yourself,” I shouted, stepping toward him with balled fists. I remembered the need to take the Phaetyn with the crown to Draedyn, and realized Lani was alive only because Kamini had been wearing her silver crown. “You let him in because you wanted power. You bastard!”

He licked his lips, and his gaze darted around the room. “Kamini would rule us—”

“You would rule behind her,” I cut him off with my sarcastic retort. “You wanted someone you could control.” I thought of all his untoward advances, all the times he tried to kiss me, and my stomach turned. “All this time?” I asked, sick with understanding. “Your pursuit of me . . . You wanted to rule so much”—bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed the sour revulsion down—“if not through your sister, then me through marriage.”

He watched me now, his violet eyes fixed on me carefully. He had to be wise to the danger of an angry Drae, even if I was the lesser of the powers in the room.

“Since you came to Verald?” I pressed him. “Has the throne always been your objective?”

He quirked a silver brow, and I wondered how I hadn’t seen the faux-charm oozing out of his pores and the silkiness dripping off his words clearly until this moment.

“Yes,” he answered plainly. “I would see my people, the Phaetyn, restored to their former glory.”

Former glory? The Phaetyn had been renowned healers, and I stared at Kamoi, my eyes narrowing as I thought of my time with him. I shook my head, recalling our journey from Verald into Gemond. Not once had he done anything to heal the land. Not once had he done anything to help anyone that wasn’t also helping himself.

“Lani’s still alive, you idiot.” I growled. “Your ‘people’ stand at her back, not yours. They have never stood at yours, never once done anything by your order. Kamini led the rebellion against your parents, not you. You think the Phaetyn will ever allow you to remove Lani from power?” I crossed my arms. “You’re power hungry and desperate, but you’re a moron, Kamoi.”

His eyes brightened, his lips pursing with anger. He strode toward me with a heavy stride.

My eyes flashed, shifting Drae, and I whipped my hand in front of me, feeling my fingertips grow into talons. I slashed at him, his perfect face hiding the ugliness within, marking him as a warning.

Kamoi gasped, flinching sideways as he covered his cheek with his hand. He pulled his extremity away and stared at the silver blood now staining his fingers and smeared on his face. Rivulets trickled down his neck as he turned to meet my gaze.

“Does Kamini know?” I asked after a heartbeat of silence.

He glared at me, clutching his cheek. “No. And she won’t. Your father has promised me your hand.”

My hand? I could guess our marriage was just a contingency plan for if Kamini’s rule didn’t work out. Or maybe Kamoi planned to usurp her too. The idea of marriage was laughable. If Draedyn meant it, he could shove it. I was mated. I turned my back on them and stepped away. I’d go puke in the bathroom and crawl back into bed for a thousand years. No way was I ever going to be within inches of Kamoi—

A rushing sound crescendoed, a roar echoing in my ears, and I began to turn, to face the emperor, but halted as Kamoi stumbled forward with a gurgling strangled sound. He hunched over, coughing.

Silver blood.

I blinked, but the image didn’t change.

Great mouthfuls of vibrant blood poured from the prince’s mouth, saturating his silver robes, and splattering onto the dark floor between us. Warm droplets splashed onto my bare feet.

“Kamoi?” I whispered. My gaze dropped to his stomach as he glanced up to the shining, dripping talons exploding through his stomach. And the black droplets dripping off their tips. Draedyn had cut himself. The wound was lethal.

Kamoi was only upright because my father stood behind him, the force of his deadly talons up against the solid bones in Kamoi’s torso. Clutching the Phaetyn’s silver hair, my father yanked Kamoi’s head up.

I stumbled away, crashing into the side of the bed and falling to the floor. I covered my mouth with both hands, and my vision tunneled. I gasped for air, dropping my head between my knees. One, two, three breaths later, I looked up, and my stomach roiled.

The emperor propped a hand between the prince’s shoulder blades and pushed.

Kamoi slid off the talons spearing him from back to front and fell to the stone, landing in a pool of his own blood, splattering me and Draedyn with death.

I retched, bile burning my throat as blackness oozed up the Phaetyn’s chest, streaks inching up over his face. The black spots widened and branched at a rapid pace until the prince was nearly covered with the stain of Drae-poison.

Kamoi’s sputtering spasms slowed. He blinked, his gaze locking on me, and reached out as if I could help him now. He mouthed words I’d never hear. And then his eyes turned glassy.

And all was still.

I stared at the Phaetyn prince, watching the last of his blood pool beneath him.

“You killed him,” I said dully, ears ringing. My feeling, my emotion disappeared. I couldn’t deal with Draedyn and feel. I couldn’t deal with death and hurt. I locked away my emotions, vowing to never let them out while I was in this black palace of evil. I couldn’t respond with sentiment, not now, maybe not ever again.