Seventy-One Vincent

The otherworldly screams of the last two fates echoed through the room. My jaw set as Nismera paced.

“Why won’t they stop?” Tessa asked the blonde witch as she shook her hands. Tara held her hands up, keeping the screams from reaching the upper levels. Nismera and her illusions made sure all those above never suspected the horrors that existed in the depths of her palace.

“Tedar is dead,” Nismera said.

“I heard.”

“Slaughtered with his legion at that damn waste of a city.”

I nodded, standing with my feet shoulder-width apart and my arms behind my back.

“I cannot have this, Vincent,” she said. “I need every city with even a hint of rebel activity burned to the fucking ground.”

“Yes, my liege.”

“No survivors.” She chewed on the pad of her thumb. “I need them to know if I even think they are up to something, it will result in ashes and blood.”

“Yes, my liege.”

“Take your legion to the East. Start there.”

“Yes, my liege.”

She nodded and cupped my cheek, her lips slanting over mine. I closed my eyes in what I knew she thought was appreciation. But I was imagining Camilla, trying to chase away the feel and taste of the bitch touching me. I thought of her laugh, the way she smelled, and how soft her lips were beneath mine. I imagined the taste of her lips when I’d press her against the nearest wall on the way to lunch just to steal a few kisses.

Nismera pulled away, and I tried to act as interested as I used to be all those many years ago.

“You are perfection, my pet,” she whispered. “I’ll meet you on the battlefield once I finish a few things.”

My heart pounded frantically. Dianna had finally upset her enough that she felt her presence was needed. When Nismera joined us on the ground, she came to eradicate, not capture. A slick sweat formed over my skin, but I forced a smile her way.

The fates continued to repeat the same words, screaming them over and over again. The magic-imbued chains wrapped around them, holding them immobile.

I stared at the fates, and they finally fell silent. The sudden quiet was more disturbing than their screams. They were so unlike Roccurem. Their natural forms were in a constant state of change, but now they were stuck in horrific, disjointed figures. The rags Nismera forced them to wear stretched over their deformed bodies. They stared past me and into my soul, the voids that were their mouths gaping in a silent scream.

I knew why Nismera was pissed, why she had sent me on so many missions and kept me close when I was here. She was nervous, and when Nismera was nervous, it was detrimental to every single being in this realm and the next.

None of us said anything as we left the lower chamber. Tessa and Tara performed one last spell, sealing the room closed as the fates started their screaming again. The magic sank into the door in a flash of green, sealing it, and we all left.

On our way upstairs, Nismera told me to take my new legion and fly out that night. She told me to go to the East and shut down any rebellion, but we both knew she wanted Dianna. The next time we found Dianna, Nismera would show, and she would kill her. I wondered if she’d told Kaden. Did he know how much she detested Dianna and his plan? Dianna was a loose end, and regardless of what she told Kaden, Nismera would not allow her to live. No, I would do what Nismera asked without fail.

I donned my armor and left my room. I paused outside Camilla’s room, pressing my hand against the door. With a deep sigh, I ducked my head and left.

The legion and I took the ryphors through the portal, going from city to city, burning, killing, and capturing. Through it all, the fates’ warning was seared into my brain. The words they were screaming echoed through time and space.

Fear!

Fear!

Fear!

The Queen of Rashearim.