Chapter 15

Béke Day Four

"Rares." My tone was clipped as the old Mage hobbled into my study. The male responsible for the creation of the Félvér settled into a high-backed chair across from me with a piercing glare. The two of us held no affection for each other, and Rares was especially dangerous for me since I'd shut down his breeding program and his experiments to please Izidora. Her distaste for it matched my own, but it gave me the perfect excuse to do something I'd wanted for a long time, something that had not been possible while my father was king. Which was why this conversation needed to happen. Rares's oath may have been to the Iron Crown, but that did not mean he was loyal to me.

He tapped a gnarled finger on the wooden arm of the chair, waiting to hear the reason I'd called him to my study. A smirk played across my lips as I leaned back in my plush chair, kicking my boots up on the polished mahogany desk that once belonged to my father and sipping from a glass of amber liquor. "I need you to swear another oath."

The wizened Mage snorted. "Absolutely not."

Tipping the last of the whisky into my mouth, I dropped my feet to the floor, leaning my elbows on the desk as I scowled at the male who had been directly involved in my parentage. "If you do not willingly comply, I will be forced to compel you."

"The only way you can compel me to do anything is if your life is on the line. And even then, I'd fight the compulsion rather than save your life, Ruslan," he hissed.

I raised a sharp brow. "Do you think I am above taking myself to the brink of death to force you to surrender? After all, you've taken me there so many times already, death is almost like an old friend."

Flashes of Rares's torture from my childhood surfaced, haunting me with twinges of mental and physical pain. I cracked my neck from side to side, banishing those images as I waited for the Mage to respond. "That was not a rhetorical question, Rares."

"No, I do not think you are above it," he gritted out through yellowed teeth, his fingers curling like knobby tree limbs.

"Good. Then you know where we stand. You will swear an oath to me, right now, to never harm Izidora and to protect her life with yours, as you do mine."

Rares's lips pressed together as if he were trying to hide a sliver of amusement. "So she accepted your mate bond then?"

Heat billowed across my body, and I was on my feet in an instant, glass shattering under my fist. "She does not need to accept the mate bond to receive that kind of protection."

"And if she chooses Kazimir? You won't go to war to fight for her?" Rares scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

I threw my head back and released a manic laugh into the space, the wildness in the tone filling the air with a crackling energy. "She will not choose him, Rares, and not because of that enchanted ring I had you make. She will choose me because I am the right choice. But if we go to war, it will be Kazimir's fault."

The Mage's wrinkled face lost all signs of amusement at my abrupt change in mood. "So you didn't give it to her then."

"No. And now that I know you can make such an object, I want to prevent you from using that power on anyone else. So you will swear this oath to me, right now, or I will force you to, and you won't like the consequences after I am brought back from the brink of death."

Rares's lips and knuckles were white from his restrained fury, and with a string of curses, he pushed to his feet, using the desk to brace himself as he kneeled before me.

"Repeat after me, Rares," I commanded, then spoke his oath not to harm Izidora and to protect her with his life, adding in a clause about using enchanted jewelry at the sole discretion of the ruler of the Iron Realm. Once he finished his oath, the tendril of magic that stretched between us snapped and thickened with his new directives. Then, I dismissed him. "You may go, Rares. See to it that the entertainment portion of Béke is handled."

The "fuck you" he muttered under his breath on his way out the door was audible to my Dragon senses, but I let it slide when I noticed Drazen perched on the threshold of the door. "What is it, Drazen?"

The male sauntered in with a dark smile, resting his armored forearms on the back of the chair Rares had just occupied. "I got the last one."

Fuck, yes.

Drazen had been searching for every male who'd had a shift in the cave where Izidora had been chained since the moment we returned to the Iron Realm, slowly gathering them for me to carve up and kill as vengeance for my mate. I wanted it to be a group execution, so each male watched his comrades die slowly around him, heightening the delicious scent of fear when each knew his end was near. Their pleas for mercy would be my music as I peeled the flesh from their skin and watched the life fade from their eyes.

It would be my greatest gift to Izidora yet.

"Have you taken them all to Vasvain?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and drumming my fingers together.

Drazen shook his head. "Not yet. They all remain in the dungeon. With Béke going on, I didn't want to risk moving them without your permission."

I weighed my options. With Drazen and me participating in each competition, we couldn't move them while everyone was preoccupied. And since only the two of us knew of this plan, I couldn't ask anyone else to do it. We'd have to wait until the dead of night to move them to the cave where Izidora had been chained. It would be poetic that we'd slaughter them there like the pigs they were. "Tonight, we'll take them there," I concluded, "and keep them alive enough for the next few days – I want to kill them myself."

"As you command," he said, pushing off the chair. "Are you almost ready for the swords competition?"

I rose from my chair, cracking my knuckles as I strode toward Drazen. "We can go together. Izidora is off with Liliana somewhere, and I know she won't miss this competition, not after how hard she's been training."

Thankfully, my magic was brimming, and muttering the spell that moved us through time and space to a hidden spot near the competition arena was effortless. Drazen and I emerged from the nondescript building to an overcast day that threatened to douse the Iron Realm in snow. Already, the seating was packed, and the singular range that had been erected for the archery competition had been broken down into three separate sparring rings in preparation for the swordsmanship competition. Unlike the archery competition, there were classes based on sex and size, and each had its own bracket.

The stage waited for me, and as I ascended the stairs, I surveyed the competition sprawling before me, spotting Izidora, Liliana, and Queen Immonen strapping into armor off to one side. Izidora's armor gleamed despite the lack of sun, the lightweight metal fitting her like a glove. Her eyes shone like gemstones when I'd presented them to her that morning, and the memory of her unfiltered joy eased the ache of her absence from my chest.

I could never get enough of her.

Taking my seat, I turned to Queen Viktoria, the only monarch not participating in the events. "Queen Viktoria, you look lovely today."

My compliment was not insincere; the queen's beauty was striking, her dark skin stretched over high cheekbones and sharp eyes that missed nothing. Even bundled in furs, she did not lose her vibrant style, and the orange headdress she wore today was like a beacon among all the gray.

"King Ruslan," she trilled, "you flatter me."

"Not at all, Your Highness. If the babe is a girl, I hope she takes after you."

The queen threw her head back and laughed. "I do too. Can you imagine what Geza would look like as a female?"

King Consort Geza had stepped into the first ring with Savich, and as they squared up, I tried to imagine the muscled Day Fae as a female. "I cannot," I admitted with a wry grin. "If she does end up looking like him, it might be best to secure a marriage contract for her while she is still a child."

Queen Viktoria smacked my arm as she cackled with amusement. "Are you trying to tell me something, King Ruslan?"

"My mate is not pregnant, Queen Viktoria. That I can assure you. In fact," I dropped my voice and dipped my head toward her, "Izidora had never had contraception until she arrived in the Iron Realm. I was shocked to learn that Kazimir had not offered it to her despite their intimacy."

The queen of the Day Realm sucked in a breath and shook her head. "After everything that poor child has been through…"

Despite Izidora's wise soul, she was, in fact, barely an adult – something I frequently forgot as I interacted with her. To me, it felt as if we'd been together for years instead of months, and she was as familiar to me as my own reflection. She'd always been part of me, and I'd always been part of her, and we would continue to be, even beyond this lifetime.

"And now she must make a nearly impossible choice between the two of us, with the course of history depending on the path she chooses. Obviously, I want her to choose me. She is my soul, my fire, my reason for breathing. But if she were to choose Kazimir, I would have to let her go for the sake of the world. I only wonder if he would do the same."

Planting the seeds of doubt in Queen Viktoria's mind seemed to be working, for she hummed her agreement. But the way she pressed her lips together told me she knew more than she let on. Clashing steel drew our attention, and I whipped my head to the three sparring rings, where King Consort Geza and Savich fought fiercely, their blades locked between their chests. But Savich was slow in his metal armor, and the king of the Day Realm shoved him off and circled away, swinging a heavy blade toward Savich's abdomen. The tip of the blade grazed against the Félvér's armor, earning the Day Fae five points.

The timer had yet to run out on the round, and I trailed my gaze across the two other rings. A pair of Iron Fae I did not know battled in the center while High Lady Domi fought a Félvér female at the other end. The females' bout ended before all the sand fell to the bottom of the glass, the Félvér catching the Night Fae female off guard and sending her to her back. King Consort Geza bested Savich a moment before the sand ran out, while the pair in the middle had to be judged on points.

"Your husband is an incredible fighter," I commented to Queen Viktoria as Geza's hand was raised in the center of the ring, and he clapped arms with Savich before they both exited.

"Why do you think I married him?" A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes never left him.

"Fair enough," I replied, leaning forward on my elbows as Izidora stepped into the ring with Queen Immonen. The queen of the Crystal Realm was waif-like and tall, and she held a thin rapier that extended her reach. Izidora boasted the two short swords I had gifted her, their hilts inlaid with garnets and obsidian. The flash of silver roses carved into the blades caught my attention, and an impish grin spread across my face.

My insidious bloom.

Izidora did not call white flame to her blades, and for once, I was grateful. Her power was unique, and I did not want her to become a target, not with so many unknowns and eyes on her at the moment. The other two rings were forgotten as the sand was turned, signaling the start to the next round, and Izidora waited patiently for Queen Immonen to make the first move. The Crystal Realm was not known for producing warriors, and it was immediately clear to me that Queen Immonen was no exception.

Izidora danced around her long, thin blade, parrying it as she stepped in and around, swinging her new swords in a flurry of activity designed to off-balance her opponent. Even from this distance, I could see that light danced in her eyes as she threw herself into the fight, and my blood heated as she executed each move with precision and speed like we'd practiced daily since we arrived in the Iron Realm. The glass was still nearly filled with sand when Queen Immonen yielded, and a wide grin stretched across my face, reflecting the one my mate wore.

"She is an incredible fighter," Queen Viktoria commented, patting my hand.

"She works hard at everything she does," I replied. "I've never met anyone with so much enthusiasm for life."

"Neither have I," she mused, pulling the fur shawl tighter around her as a cold breeze blew through the arena.

The wind picked up a few stray chestnut hairs that had fallen out of Izidora's braid as her hand was raised. Our eyes locked, and I shot her my best ‘I am so proud of you' smile. She blushed a pretty shade of pink before her hand was dropped. Then she hugged Queen Immonen, the two of them chatting the entire walk out of the ring.

As the next class of competitors was called, I bid Queen Viktoria goodbye. I strode toward the matchmakers, scratching at their papers and shouting at contestants, trying to organize the chaos of the matches.

"King Ruslan Drakkar of the Iron Realm!" one of them called, half-standing and scanning the gathered group of males all roughly the same size.

"Here," I stated, pushing through and stepping up to the table.

"And High Lord Viktor Adimik of the Night Realm!"

The male on his right shouted, "High Lord Kazimir Vaszoly of the Night Realm and General Drazen Fedir of the Iron Realm!"

Fuck.

Silence fell over those around us, and the thread that tied Izidora to me vibrated with anxiety. Even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was somewhere nearby, heart racing.

The rest of the matchups were read, but I did not hear them over the roaring fury in my ears. My hand tightened over the pommel of my swords as Kazimir and Drazen, along with two other pairs, stepped into the rings.

I didn't trust the Night Fae not to fight dirty, especially with Drazen. But Drazen carried his ‘I don't give a fuck' attitude right into the ring, squaring up to Kazimir with a bored expression on his face. When the sand turned over, Kazimir sprang forward, his emerald pommel flashing as he thrust his sword straight up the middle. Drazen sidestepped, twirling the hilt of his weapon over his hand before parrying Kazimir's next strike. Veins of lapis lazuli ran through Drazen's sword, matching his wings, and the stone glittered as it met the solid steel of Kazimir's blade. They fought in a flurry of strikes, and all eyes were on them, the other two matches forgotten as they battled for control of their ring.

Drazen's strength was subtle, unlike Savich's, and he managed to land a series of heavy blows that had Kazimir backing toward the fence. Sweat poured from their brows, but Drazen's bored expression never fell, despite the obvious strain as they fought.

Come on, Drazen.

I needed my cousin to win, not only for the Iron Realm's overall score but to prove a point. The Night Fae might think they could show up and take Izidora back with them, but it simply wasn't happening.

Kazimir faltered, and Drazen lunged for a yielding blow, only to release a harsh curse as he stumbled over something in the flat, packed-dirt arena. I pressed closer to the fence separating us, eyes trained on the spot where Drazen had been moments before, and I swore a snake lay in the dirt. Squinting, I blinked and looked again, only for that black line to disappear. Drazen had recovered, and the scrape of metal drew my attention to the two males again.

The sand was nearly empty, and my heart pounded in my chest in time with the furious strikes Drazen landed, the very last knocking Kazimir's blade from his hands. His eyes darted to the glass, then back to my cousin, and I knew he debated how long he could hold this position without yielding so that the round was judged on points. But Drazen already knew, and with the speed gifted to Félvér, he pinned Kazimir against the fence with his blade at his throat, leaving him no choice but to yield.

Kazimir spat out the word like it was poison, and Drazen stepped away, maintaining his nonchalant demeanor. Kazimir hurled more words at him, and they were enough to have the half-Dragon spinning on his heel and stalking back to Kazimir. Drazen's face was a breath from the Night Fae's, and his expression was pure fury.

"You're a fucking cheat, Kazimir. I know you used magic against me, and yet you still lost," Drazen scoffed.

Kazimir shoved Drazen away, his expression darkening. "You're just a mongrel playing at nobility, Drazen. Take your filth and crawl back into the hole you came from."

The two stepped forward again, poised to strike with fists before judges entered the ring and separated them. Drazen"s normally cool facade was utterly cracked as he passed me, and I tried to grab him by the shoulder, but he shrugged me off and kept walking. I made to follow him, but my name was called.

My jaw flexed and my knuckles cracked one by one as I entered the ring. Viktor had already taken his place, and the crowd around us was silent as we squared up. Slowly, I drew my sword from its sheath at my side, the deep obsidian veins crafted into the lightweight metal giving it a sinister, threatening appeal. The deep red garnet set into the hilt was the color of freshly drawn blood, and it flared with energy the moment my palms gripped the metal.

The world fell away as my focus honed in on the Night Fae in front of me. Viktor was tall and stacked with lean muscle, but his leather armor was no match for the lightweight metal I wore. The Iron Realm had been hard at work crafting stronger and lighter metal for a century, and in my lifetime, we'd succeeded. Viktor, like most of the other Fae, probably assumed my armor would slow me, and a small smirk formed on my face as I waited for him to underestimate me. Besides, I was the most powerful Félvér to have ever lived, and even the Goddess couldn't save him from my wrath.

The sand turned over, and Viktor struck first.

His sword speared toward my middle, and I easily parried it away, sidestepping and returning with a slash at his legs. Viktor jumped backward, the tip barely grazing his thigh, before planting his foot and pushing forward, using the momentum of his retreat to swing his blade up toward my chin. I slipped to the side, the song of metal whispering in my ear, then met his sword with my own as he retracted.

Both of us pressed into our blades, trying to force the other to back off first. Sweat beaded his forehead, and I grinned, not even the slightest hint of fatigue gracing my body.

"Guess us mongrels could teach you Fae a thing or two about fighting," I purred, sending Viktor stumbling backward with a mighty shove. Without waiting for him to recover, I launched an attack, my sword moving faster and faster with each subsequent strike. The force of our blows reverberated up my arm, but I had trained my whole life to be a weapon, and there was no way I was losing this match.

"Guess you could teach me a thing or two about torture, too," Viktor snapped, finally planting his foot and putting energy into pushing me backward.

I laughed, a manic, crazed sound that had my blood singing. "If only you knew."

Feinting an arcing strike, I flicked my wrist at the last second and sliced into Viktor's forearm, causing his fingers to flex around his blade, nearly dropping it before he recovered, only holding it with a single hand. Blood streamed down his arm and onto the dirt beneath our feet, but he did not complain.

The sand in the glass was halfway gone.

"I was there when we rescued her, you know," he hissed, lunging for me.

"And I remember your smell from when I arrived hours later," I sneered, swinging my blade, only to pull it at the last moment and blast him backward with a kick to the stomach.

The air whooshed from his lungs as he stumbled, surprised by my change in tactics. His blade barely clanged against mine as I struck again. With a rough flick of my wrist, I finally disarmed him, and he held his hands in surrender.

"I yield," he grumbled, his eyes harder than rock as he surveyed me.

I didn't bother to offer him my hand, merely spun on my heel toward the center of the ring, where the judge raised my hand in victory.

As I exited, movement in the crowd caught my eye, and Izidora pushed away from the fence and raced toward me. A grin split my face as I caught her in my arms. Sensing eyes on me, I looked up and over Izidora's head, discovering Kazimir and the Night Fae standing together and watching our every move.

Izidora whipped her head around too, finding them, and her face pinched with disgust. She tugged on my hand, clearly not wanting to engage with them as she led us away, toward Zuriel and the Demons who waited patiently for their names to be called. It was a small victory, but one that I relished immensely.

There was no need for me to shower Izidora with gifts and words of affirmation to win her over when Kazimir made an ass of himself at every turn. My mate deserved to be taken care of in every way possible, and I intended to do so for the remainder of my years. Izidora would not leave me, and I repeated the phrase over and over, once again hoping that eventually, I'd believe it.