Lord King (The King)

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A ward of sorts. Keeps her from dying. Keeps her from aging.”

Like the ring King gave my dad. “I had no idea that kind of thing could be permanently tattooed on.”

“Not many people have these because not many people know how to do them. Sage was one.” He raised his hand with the knife.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

“Unless you want her coming back to life and hunting you down, I have to remove her head. Which is why I said that you need to look away.”

I’m going to be sick. “I think I’ll go find King.” I stood from my chair.

“Not without me. Sage has quite the arsenal, and every square inch of this castle has wards and traps to keep out thieves.”

“Oh. Lovely.”

He stared and raised an expectant brow.

“Sorry. Looking away,” I said.

I turned my body and stared at the stone wall, trying to block out the sounds of flesh being cut and bones being broken. I didn’t know what kind of person it took to perform such a fucked-up act, but apparently Ansin was one of them.

He’s definitely more twisted than King. I made a mental note to never cross him. At the same time, I couldn’t ignore Ansin had to do it to protect me.

“All right. Done. Let’s go look for King. And, Jeni, I strongly advise you don’t look this way.”

I was already turning to leave the room. Of course, when someone tells you not to look, what’s the first thing you do?

Oh crap. I looked. Exposed neckbones, bloody tendons, and everything gory one would expect to see when a person was relieved of their head.

The sandwich in my stomach launched up and out, splattering on the stone floor.

“Jeni, I fucking told you…”

Ansin’s voice faded into nothing as the room started spinning. Right before it turned black.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ansin

“Jeni, Jeni, Jeni.” I shook my head at the Seer, who lay passed out on the dining room floor, a mere four feet from Sage’s headless body. Blood everywhere.

I hate this kind of crap.

People who knew me—not many—always asked why I wore cheap T-shirts and leather pants. This was why.

I went to the kitchen, which was just off the dining room, and grabbed some towels near the big metal sink.

“Hate cleaning blood,” I griped.

I wiped the sticky red liquid from my pants and then removed my shirt, tossing it into the sink. I washed my hands, arms and face, too. God only knew what sort of poisons Sage had in her blood. She was always experimenting and creating potions with her collection of pickled body parts. She claimed they gave her powers. I thought she was just a fucking psycho. The only thing she was good at was mixing her dream drugs and tattoo inks. I’d be sure to steal her recipes before I left.

Now shirtless and clean, I went to Sage’s fridge and helped myself to a beer. I knew the only things safe to drink in this castle were her top-shelf scotch, which she kept locked in a cupboard, and this. Everything else was for her “guests,” which was how she probably got King into her bed.

Likely micro-dosed him over the course of a few hours. That was usually how she did it. Give her enemy the tiniest amount of her dream drug. They didn’t even notice. All of a sudden, their guard was down, and they felt right at home. Sage offered them another drink. Sure, what the hell, they’d say. If she were going to poison me, she would have done it by now. The unsuspecting guest got another dose. Then a third and a fourth. Before they knew what was happening, they were in a dream world, completely entranced by whatever Sage wanted them to see. Meanwhile, Sage was carving out their organs.

I had to hand it to her, the technique worked nicely because her victims never put up a fight. But I had to wonder what she gave King to drink. He knew her tricks. Hell, the bastard probably taught her some of them.

I polished off my beer and returned to Jeni in the other room. She was a beauty. Her long wavy brown hair, her inquisitive brown eyes, and her sexy little lips. No, she wasn’t the kind of woman men tripped over in the streets. She was the kind of pretty only men of substance noticed, the quiet muse in the dark corner of a café, her nose buried in a book. (History was her thing. I’d done my research.) She was also the sort of woman who stood by the people she cared for. She understood that family and loyalty were everything.

How did I know all this?

Like I said, I’d done my research. For example, I knew she’d bartered with King so her father would be healed. And I knew she was going to hurt when I finally killed King. Which I would do when the time was right.