Four
Tusk
I know that they are trying to keep Margaret from me. I have heard the whispers of their hapless plots directly through the door which they did not bother to close, because not a single one of them took the time to do so. I like Rath as king. He believes he makes his own decisions, but he does not know what to do, so his decisions are always mine in one way or another. These not-quite-royal conspirators fear me, but not enough to take proper care around me. It is a paradox they should pay more attention to, but they spend all their time focusing on humans and mates and rivals. They are worried about Krush, who makes daily broadcasts taunting Rath as his inner-city palace grows, formed with debris and salvage.
“TRAITORS WHO INHABIT THE THRONE OF MY FATHER!”
Another broadcast starts. I should not find these as amusing as I do. After all, I am one of the traitors the young, rebellious king is referring to.
I flick on a nearby screen, interested to see what Krush has to show us today. He is like a boy proud of his sandcastle. He likes to show the new additions to his trash palace.
It is starting to look rather impressive. The first spire has been complete for some time now, and two more are rising nearby. Krush appears with his increasingly pregnant partner by his side. The human has been severely damaged in her lifetime, but her exterior wounds are nothing compared to the ones Krush bears inside his golden body. I am well aware that I am looking at the most dangerous king ever to exist on Megaris. What might now seem like a tantrum staged with outcasts and human scum is potentially the beginning of a permanent fracture in Megaris. He must be stopped.
But first, I must claim my human.
There are so many wills to break, plots to unravel, and dreams to destroy. It is hard to fit it all into a single day's work, but I will try. I begin by going down to the dungeons, where almost nobody is incarcerated for longer than they wish to be. Megaris was a very different city under King Krash. It ran smoothly. It was orderly. Citizens feared the law, humans were appropriately subjugated, and the korabi ruled supreme. I wonder if the human now begging Rath for a baby has any understanding of how very seriously she damaged the lives of millions. She should be in this dungeon for the rest of her short and painful life, but she has played the only hand she has and gained a sexual coup over Rath K’zar, who, though no royal, at least has the respect of the court. For now.
The human dungeon is a very specific chamber inside the rest of the dungeon. This is another secret they believe they hold from me. I am well aware that Tyvian fetishizes the humans and has created their version of luxury inside this darkest and most desperate of locations.
Rath and Tyvian, and a few other traitors besides, believe they can hide from me, and that I am unaware of what is taking place inside these walls. They believe they keep secrets from me. It is laughable. After all these years of knowing me, they still think that I am going to let them take the human from me. It is a testament to their arrogance and nerve that they continue to underestimate and denigrate my capacities.
As I reach the door to the human enclosure, Tyvian appears like the faithful dog he is, stepping between me and the door to the human’s enclosure.
Margaret is mine. He will not stop me from taking her.
“Step aside, Tyvian.”
“No.”
Oh, I have reached the absolute limit of my tolerance for this nonsense. I have been more patient than I knew I was capable of being. I have allowed these upstarts to defy and disrespect me. The notion of this kind of arrogance in past generations would have been unheard of. It makes my claws curl inward toward my palms. I have tolerated so much impudence from these whelps who believe they make kings. It is time this one learned what the wages of disobedience truly are.
“I will give you one last opportunity to move, boy. Need I remind you that it was I who took her worthless mate and slaughtered him. It was I who freed her from her pitiful life…”
“It was you who claimed she was inside a korabi suit and killed someone.”
I make an impatient sound. I have never had to justify myself so very much to so very many korabi and humans with so very little authority, gravitas, or nobility. I miss the old days, where my word was law, and where the prospect of being brutally tortured and then murdered if you were very lucky kept most of these upstarts in order. But the old king is gone, and the old guard with him. Now the throne is occupied by a common placeholder while true nobility besmirches its line by living in garbage and breeding with humans.