Chapter 10

Reality, the full truth, crashed into me as I stumbled backward.

"That is my wife. We were bound last night." Orin's voice rang through the temple with unhurried conviction.

"Impossible," my father barked.

"Search her wrist," my husband yelled from halfway up the aisle. "See our bond for yourself. She wasn't worthy of a king. In fact, she hardly protested at all."

Though pinned, the black veil was ripped from my head, taking a chunk of hair with it as I stared up into the vengeful eyes of the real Icharius Fern, an absolute stranger with a halo of blond hair and cold, dark eyes. He snatched my wrist and tore the lace, showcasing the fresh golden band for all to see.

"Who are you?" I asked Orin through gritted teeth, peering into the face of the only person in the world I'd ever wanted to murder. He'd lied. He'd manipulated me. He'd embarrassed me beyond any shred of dignity.

"Orin Faber, Wife."

My world nearly collapsed. My only chance to give anything to this world had been swept away with the pretty words of a liar. And I'd fallen for it easily. Chasing the idea that someone might actually want me. Choose me. Fury built from the bottom of my toes, inching its way so powerfully through my body, if not for the humiliation, rage would be the only emotion I'd ever feel again as I stared at the cocky grin of a hateful bastard.

"Deyanira! Explain yourself," my father said, his voice so cold and low only a trained ear would note the vulnerable shake in his words.

"He… tricked me."

Orin leveled a glare right back at me. "No offense, Your Grace, but it was hardly a challenge. She was quite eager. A trait I hope she takes as strongly to the marriage bed."

"You bastard," I snarled.

Pandemonium erupted in the temple. The gathered people started yelling their outrage for the jilted king.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my father's movement just in time to duck, still locked in Icharius's grasp. Though my father missed, the new king raised a fist the size of a hammer, hauling back. I kicked up my skirt and yanked Chaos free, causing the room to still.

"Let me go, or today will be your last," I demanded of King Icharius.

Though he obeyed, he also balked. "You dare threaten a king? No wonder your father had to beat you into submission this morning."

Rotating the blade so I held the hilt firmly, pointing toward the ground, I drew back and smashed his godsdamned nose in, throwing all my anger with Orin behind the punch.

Standing at the front of the aisle, surrounded by candles and beyond that a riotous crowd, I considered my options. I searched face after face, but Ro was nowhere to be seen. Leaping over the candles, I made it a little over halfway back down the aisle before my father commanded control of his court and those of Silbath.

"Silence!"

The room stilled.

"Deyanira Sariah Hark, you are hereby stripped of your title. You are no longer heir to the throne of Perth, betrothed to the king of Silbath, nor are you welcome in my kingdom. You are banished. And should Death have something to say about that, he can find me in my godsdamned chambers."

I turned slowly, aiming to look my father in the eye one final time when a crack reverberated around the room, splitting the aisle in two as a plume of black shadow crept from the crevice like fingers, the cavity birthing none other than Death himself. My heart stopped beating.

A single sob from the back was the only sound as he rose, floating toward me with a face completely hidden within the depths of his hood.

"My beautiful Deyanira," he purred, reaching for my face as he stroked a thumb over my father's marking. "Who dares strike my Maiden?"

I spoke no words, but my eyes betrayed me as they fell on the King of Perth, who'd been attempting to back away. In a single thought, Death left me standing in the aisle to circle my father in a symphony of screaming shadows. When he pulled away, my father's face had gone ashen. Though his shoulders still rose and fell, the essence of the tyrannical king had faded away.

A man three rows ahead of me gulped, the sound so loud in the silence that Death turned to face him. The woman holding the man's hand fainted. Death's deep and tumultuous laugh reverberated over the temple walls as he came back to my side.

"Will you finally speak to me, my beauty? Will you tell me what has happened here?"

I stared straight ahead, my defiance utterly annoying him, though I knew he would not display that emotion in front of the court. He reached for my hand, examining the golden band before delivering a dark chuckle and leaning forward to whisper, "A wedding gift, then, my Deyanira."

Searing pain ripped through my palm as my flesh burned. The two courts, now unsettled, shuffled toward the outer walls, but Death cast shadows over the door and all the windows, shrouding the temple in darkness, apart from the flickering circle of candles at the front of the aisle.

Despite my own stubborn will, anger, embarrassment, and a torrent of other emotions crashed over me, pushing the tears from my flooded eyes. I raised my palm, blinking away my sorrow to read the name I'd been given.

Demir Altruis Hark.

My father.

Magical compulsion unlike anything I'd ever felt overtook me.

I shook my head, protesting, trying to plant my feet, though they betrayed me. Not in front of all these people. I didn't want to become the monster they imagined.

"Even now, after all of his faults, you would save him?" Death asked, his voice no more than an echo in my mind. "How absolutely intriguing, my beauty."

He'd been an unbearable father, unwavering in harsh lessons and cruel words. But I was born from love. He had the capacity. And in his own way, he'd shaped me into a warrior. A woman who could and would defend herself in a cutthroat world where no one would hold my hand. No one would fight alongside me, and he'd made sure I'd survive it. I was never going to be his heir, but I was still his. He was a product of an environment that would have devoured him had he been any other way. And he was my father.

Gripping the knife, I stalked up the aisle, letting the tears fall freely. "Please don't do this," I begged, the first words I'd spoken to Death in ages.

His eyes glimmered with malice. How could they not see him for the beautiful monster he was? How could they still consider him a savior when their skin turned to ice with fear?

Regulas finally emerged from behind a pillar in the back of the room. It could have been his name. It should have been, for all the hatred and evil he'd injected into the relationship between my father and me. Pulling a sword, he meant to intervene.

"Guards!" he shouted, speaking for my motionless father. "Protect your king."

None moved. None were willing to step into Death's path.

"Please," I whispered, though I knew the crowd nor the gods that had left this world to destroy itself would not hear me. "I am not this."

Standing between my father and me, Regulas held a trembling sword across his body, loyal to the very end. Magic seared across my mind, enveloping me in visions of my own father's death. Slitting his throat was last in line. I saw his head fall to the marble floor. I saw my own hands reach into his severed belly, ripping him to shreds. I watched myself slaughter a man I'd loathed for so long, yet still did not wish to end.

Fighting the magic until pain ripped through my body, I blinked away tears, glancing over my shoulder, beyond Death to stare into Orin's piercing gaze.

"I hate you!" I screamed, shoving Regulas to the side and whipping Chaos across my father's throat.