Chapter 94

Arik

I never liked walking in when the king and his loathsome courtiers were at ‘play.' The vast majority of the Kheanian aristocracy rarely visited court for just this reason. I walked into a sea of bodies writhing on the beautiful couches, the chaise lounge, and even the floor, expertly sidestepping hands that reached for me because I'd had to do this all too often. The general however… All of the urgency left the man along with the blood in his face as he went deathly pale. I almost snorted in amusement, right up until I saw why.

His focus narrowed in on Giselle, or more specifically, her throat. The king's fingers were wrapped around it, squeezing until her face turned an alarming shade of red. The general lurched forward, no doubt moved by the sight of a woman in distress, but I slapped a hand down on his chest. This was unforgivable due to his rank and mine within the army hierarchy, but I shot him a warning look.

"My king!" My voice rang out across the room, forcing people's lips away from their partner's or other parts of their bodies. "I bring news."

That fucking madness in his eyes when Magnus' gaze snapped up–it left me cold each time, but the numbness that protected me quickly seeped in to protect me from it. His face was almost as red as Giselle's, his eyes bulging in his skull as his lips pulled back in a silent snarl. The bastard didn't even stop his pathetic pumping between his mistress' legs before he caught sight of me. His whole body stiffened, and the general was treated to the sight of his king reaching his climax, his fingers reluctantly pried from around Giselle's throat by the woman herself. He collapsed down beside her as she sucked in breaths, the rasping sound all too familiar.

I knew what she was experiencing, that desperate, desperate need for oxygen. Her body worked too hard to draw it in, closing down her windpipe, but Giselle knew what she was doing. She pursed her lips, drawing in oxygen through a narrow hole, reducing the pressure and allowing her to breathe more easily. The woman celebrated this with an arch, shaky laugh.

"Oh my king…" How the hell she managed to wrap her arms around the prick after that I didn't know. "You are inspired tonight. I was driven half out of my mind with pleasure."

The first time I tried to intervene on Giselle's behalf, she'd just laughed at me, making clear she was not waiting for a white knight to ride in and save her. I didn't make the same mistake twice. Instead, I stepped forward, the general following my lead rather than the other way around. Courtiers scrambled out of the way to make a path for us, but some didn't stop what they were doing. I dragged my eyes away, not wanting to see their pestilent cocks disappearing into cunts after what I'd seen tonight.

Jessalyn had shone like gold, but in my mind's eye, all three did. That glow warmed me through as I stepped closer, but it did not stop me noting this. Red stained fingers, reddened eyes, nostrils stained with the same powder. Every single one of the people in this room was flushed, and so my hand strayed to my sword, making clear I would not be joining them.

"And what news could you possibly bring me?" the king sneered, making no attempt to stuff his half naked body back into his clothes. "Is there not enough ale in the guardhouse?"

"My apologies, Your Majesty," the general said, sketching a bow, but when he straightened up, he frowned. "I bring you news of the border. The wolf shifters have all deserted their posts—"

"This is what you disturb me for?" I watched the general, not the king, catching the moment the leader of our armed forces expression turned to surprise, then disgust, right before he forced his face to smooth. "News of the dogs we keep on a leash? Next you'll be running in here to tell me Lady Whittington's lapdog has whelped."

Lady Whittington couldn't reply to that, her mouth currently full of a man's, who wasn't her husband, cock.

"I apologise, sire, but this means…" He shook his head, no doubt cursing the situation he had enjoyed until now. The king gave him free rein to secure our borders because Magnus had little head for anything statesman like. He just imperiously ordered others to deal with it. The general couldn't resolve the situation Creed had created though, not on his own. "This means an invasion is imminent from both the Lanzene—"

"Enough!" Magnus lumbered over to a small table where a familiar wooden box had been placed. His long pinky fingernail was dipped into the dark-red dust there and then shoved up his nose. The man had developed such a tolerance to roseblood that he could snort it without ill effect. "I am not in the mood to hear you twitter on about invasions or war."

He stiffened then, his whole body trembling, and not for the first time did I long for my brother's drug habit to do my dirty work for me. Perhaps the Raven chose to poison this potent blend of roseblood, sending chemicals shooting into what was left of Magnus' brain only for him to—

"Phwoar!" His eyes went wide and unseeing, his expression one of pure bliss. The king was transported beyond this room, beyond anything as he rode the red dragon far higher than any of us would dare. "Gods above, I feel it! I feel it!"

"Oh, I want some of that…"

Giselle crawled towards the table with all the elegance of a cat, but Magnus treated her with all the care he would a pet, slapping her so hard her neck rocked on her shoulders. Her head spun, I could see that by her unfocused stare, but I held my ground.

I couldn't save Giselle. She didn't want it, nor did she deserve it with what she'd ensured happened to each and every princess I brought here, but still. The sight of a woman treated so vilely created such a sense of wrongness that my gut roiled. Bile filled my mouth as blood filled hers, I didn't doubt.

"Lady Farrelly! Lady Horace! Attend to me now," Magnus ordered, his hand moving like a blur up and down his cock.

"Well, if you've no interest in news of the border, sire," I said, not raising my voice, not drawing undue attention to myself. "Then you won't want to hear that the golden stag has been sighted in Fallspire."

The general shot me a hard look then, but his aim and mine were not the same. He wanted to keep the country safe, but I'd let the entire thing burn, starting with my brother and his court, if that's what it took to keep Jessalyn safe. I made that clear in a stare so insolent I'd have been cleaning latrines with my tongue if I was still a soldier. Instead, both our heads whipped around as we heard the king suck in a breath.

"The golden stag…?"

I knew that look of greed all too well, and right then, the years fell away. He was a lad of nineteen and me two years younger, hearing about the first stag sighting in our lifetime, except then his bitch of a mother was by his side.

Did he hear her still whispering in his ear, that this was his time for greatness? That destiny had stretched out a hand for him to take? I was beginning to think he did, his head bobbing along, as if in agreement to an unseen speaker.

"When?" the king demanded, blinking as he came back to himself.

"A day ago," I informed him, not bothering with his title, and Magnus didn't notice. "We were down in Fallspire—"

"I don't give a damn about that." The king shut me up with a wave. "A day ago, you say? This is a sign." He strode forward, erection bobbing, to clap the general on the shoulder. "This is a sign. The stag only appears at significant times in a reigning monarch's lifetime."

His death or when his son was ready to ascend to the throne, I thought but didn't say a thing. Magnus' gaze locked on me, as if sensing my traitorous thoughts.

"This is my moment to make things right, to claim my birthright without interference."

That's what he thought it was? I nearly staggered back at that implication. Instead, my muscles locked tight, pinning me to the spot. What had happened, what he had done, what I was forced to do? I could still hear the bellows of the last golden stag, the one I'd been forced to kill.

In front of my father, his wife, my brother, and the entire court.

An act that was later deemed treason, others had died for my crimes, but not me. I had worn the crown of antlers of the stag I had killed. The wolf shifters made clear that any deliberate attempt to murder me would result in an immediate severing of the treaty between them and human kind.

Because I was the one that stag chose, not Magnus.

"I will kill the golden stag," Magnus said as he stepped closer, spittle landing on my face. "And then when I'm done and the crown of antlers sits upon my head, I'll kill you."