A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

“Yeah,” I said, my voice breathy. “He looks super hardcore and sexy right now.”

“Finley, love, that wasn’t his blood streaked on his chest.”

“We fucked in the blood of his enemies.”

Hadriel turned to me with wide eyes and a crooked smile. “My goodness, look at you! I like it. That man is absolutely nuts, and anyone that is with him has to be nuts as well. I am much too sensible for a guy like him. But crazy is a good look on you.”

I rolled my eyes as we reached the tower.

“And that dress looks gorgeous on you. It’s really fitting. Your hair is an absolute mess, but besides that, you’re very striking.”

“Enjoy your party.”

“Well, thank you. I think I might this time. I really think I might.”

He lit two candles for me and then wished me good night.

Later that night, I startled awake. Strange sounds had permeated my dreams—a growl followed by snuffling noises. A spark of pain had ignited in my middle, and my animal had jerked and rolled. I sat up in the stillness, listening, taking a deep breath.

The growl was soft, ending in a strange ticking noise. The snuffling sounded at the base of my door, down by the crack.

Tingles of apprehension lodged in my chest. I pulled back the covers and draped my feet over the side before standing. My nightgown slid down my legs to stop at my calves.

The snuffling came again, and another flare of pain blossomed in my middle.

What is that? I asked my animal.

How the fuck should I know? I can’t see through doors any more than you can.

I mean the pain. That’s not from the bond, is it?

How are you this obtuse?

If you were a separate being, I would punch you right in the mouth. Also, is that a no?

I could feel her rolling her eyes. It is a no. It’s being caused by that creature outside of our door. It needs to be killed, but not by you, because it won’t wait around until you drag it by the neck toward a sword.

I shook my head and crossed the room to the dagger Hadriel had brought me from the armory. It was a little smaller than the one I was used to carrying. A little lighter. A lot sharper. I could wreak all sorts of trauma with this little baby.

Still, I’d learned my lesson. I was not going out to meet that thing if I didn’t have to.

As I went to turn, movement caught my eye. Two people were walking outside my window, beyond the garden area. A man and a woman. They were probably ten yards apart, walking the same direction at exactly the same pace. They stopped when I noticed them, staring up into my window. There they stood, watching me watching them.

The creature at my door laughed in a low, terrifying tone. Somehow they were connected, these creatures. They could feel each other, or maybe they could feel the effect they were having on me. Whatever it was, their teamwork would have me outnumbered, and their goal was fear-based pain.

My heart sped up. Something clicked in my mind. Locked into place, like when Nyfain had first entered me. Like when I’d handled my first everlass plant as a ten-year-old.

I tightened my grip on my dagger. The creature at my door snuffled. It might’ve been smelling my fear, which was rolling off me, but I wondered if it could also smell my determination.

Because I was done with the wilting flower routine. Done with it. I had never been a wilting flower. I would not strive for mediocrity. And if that got demons on my ass, then I’d kill them. Let the demon king come. Fuck him. We all had to die sometime, and I would die taking a stand.

I just had to learn how…

Thirteen

“Come at me.”

I gripped the very pretty sword in my dirty hand and faced off with Nyfain. The late-afternoon sun shone down on our mock battlefield, the greenish weeds trampled underfoot, the everlass field not far away, and a sweaty me doing a terrible job at sticking the pointy end into Nyfain’s person. He was so convinced I was crap with a sword that we weren’t even using a practice one.

He was right. I hadn’t even scratched him. I hadn’t even gotten close.

“Can we go back to the dagger?” I asked him, short of breath. I’d proved very useful with a dagger, as we both knew I was.

“The sword is longer, giving you—”

“A longer reach, I know.”

“Right. Come at me.”

I assumed the stance he’d taught me. This was our second practice session in three days. I’d told him about my visitors. They weren’t regulars at the castle, apparently, but visitors from one of the more fear-based villages. News about his “captive” had gotten around, and given the snuffing at the door, they knew he was intimate with me. He wasn’t sure what kind of risk that posed, but he’d been adamant that we start training right away.