A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

Why the fuck are we always stuck between a rock and another rock right before a fucking rockslide barrels down the hill toward us? my dragon thought. This has gotten ridiculous.

I couldn’t agree more, but Gunduin spoke a lot of truth. We couldn’t afford to have the kingdom split, so apparently I had to go to war with a queen. Super.

NINE

Hadriel

Showtime.

I gave Leala a nervous nod, and she opened the tower door. Finley had been bathed and dressed and her hair done perfectly, ready for dinner with the queen. We’d attended to her in the tower so that she could have a grand entrance and descend the stairs to the waiting prince.

Everything rode on her performance right now. People would be able to directly compare her with past royalty, and she not only had to prove she had the merit, but could also outshine the former, beloved queen. No pressure.

She stood at the window, looking out. I could tell she was nervous as fuck, thanks to that assclown Gunduin. It was a nervousness she didn’t know how to hide. She wasn’t trained to hide her feelings behind passive-aggressive words. She didn’t even know the proper etiquette for a formal dinner. When something bothered her, she handled it like a dragon did—with rage and fire.

Yes, Finley was definitely out of her league, and she knew it. Poor thing. Part of me wanted to steal her away and run. Run from the queen, this broken kingdom, the alpha wolf, the fucking demon king and all his minions—just run.

She never would, though. And I’d stay and fight right beside her, for whatever that was worth.

You hear that, you dick-faced shitbasket? I told my wolf. I will not go with that alpha.

Your language is as colorful as your outfit.

Cecil did this, you know he did, I replied. I asked for professional and chic, something that befit a queen’s advisor, and he gave me this flowery fucking dongshow.

Literally. The fabric was covered in dongs barely hidden within the floral pattern.

Fucking Cecil.

A wave of power washed over us, and then Finley rolled her shoulders as if preparing for battle. “Okay,” she said, turning from the window.

My heart caught in my throat, and my eyes suddenly misted. Leala gasped and dusted her chest with her fingertips.

I was standing before the goddess reborn, I knew it.

Finley’s eyes shone with a strange golden tint, like they were literally flickering with fire. Her head was held high, face composed but determined. Her body, tall and lean muscled, stood in a way that bespoke blood-soaked battlefields on a cold winter’s morning.

That wasn’t what stole my breath, though, or made Leala gasp.

The air shimmered around Finley as she let her power uncoil within her. Tiny flames licked up her arms and curled from her back. Actual fucking flames!

“Apparently this is my lot in life,” she said in a strong, clear voice, stalking forward like a predator. “This kingdom is now my duty, and I will own it. Hopefully Nyfain doesn’t cast me out.”

“He would never,” I said, aghast. “Leala, love, go make sure everyone is ready.”

“Is that a…” Finley looked closer at my jacket with the burgundy velvet lapels. It was the only part of the look Cecil had gotten right. “Is that a golden penis?” She pointed at my right breast area.

I huffed and covered it with my palm. “Don’t ask. Seriously.”

“Okay, okay!” Leala reappeared in the doorway and gestured us on wildly. “The prince is there.” She put both her hands out. “But don’t hurry. Princesses don’t hurry. Saunter. This is a big entrance. Use it.”

“Yes, love, that is good advice.” I motioned Finley in front of me. “Go now. Big moment. Keep up the fire, that’s a helluva trick.”

“I don’t know how I’m doing it. I just have so much power raging through me right now, what with Nyfain’s nervousness and my own and our dragons trying to compensate…”

“I’ve heard some of the most powerful dragons can do that,” Leala said as she got out of the way. “And you guys are definitely in that league, especially together. Just go with it. It looks great!” She gave a thumbs-up.

“Why isn’t it burning my dress?” Finley murmured as she took the stairs.

“I have no fucking idea, love. Let’s just count our blessings.” I followed behind her, Leala waiting a beat before joining us, not part of the procession (unlike me, as Finley’s royal advisor), but definitely eager to watch.

Butterflies swarmed my belly as we reached the third-floor landing. The first of the staff was there, pretending to clean or examine light fixtures or count their fingers. They looked up as Finley approached, and their eyes widened…and then lit up…and then burned brightly.

“Milady.” The first staff member bowed, though I was looking straight ahead with my chin up in measured importance and didn’t see who it was. “Milady,” another said, bending lower.