Between the Moon and Her Night (Between Life and Death #3)

Chapter 45

Von

I blew out a fiery breath of air from my heated lungs, my bloodless veins boiling beneath my skin. My annoyance was growing by the second. If there was one place I did not want to be, it was here, in the shit-ass company of my squabbling council members. Without Sage, I was miserable enough, let alone having to sit here and listen to all of this.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it for you to understand,” Brutus, the God of Logic, said, his person adorned in scholarly black robes trimmed with silver. He was standing, his chair shoved out behind him as he spoke to the redhead sitting across the table from him—Erynna, the Goddess of Fidelity. “Just because Saphira and the rest of her traitors are locked up in the dungeon, that doesn’t mean we’ve squashed the uprising.”

“And for the last time, I understand that,” she sighed, lounging casually in her chair, picking at her long nails. “But what you are suggesting would only make matters worse.”

“I disagree,” Brutus said with a huff. Physically, the man had always reminded me of a bulldog, his wide nose smooshed up into his face.

“Of course you do,” she said, hazel eyes flicking up to him.

“So then, what do you suggest we do?” Pertheus snarled—a bunch of heads swiveling his way. “Because you haven’t given us one single suggestion yet, and we’ve been discussing this for days.”

When Saphira attempted to overthrow me, I had thought that Pertheus would have been chomping at the bit to help her, but he didn’t, which surprised me. Something I wasn’t used to. In the weeks that followed the rebellion, he had even helped hunt down anyone who had anything to do with it. Yet another surprise.

Erynna dropped her hand and sat up straight as she turned to me. “You remind them who you are—you make an example of their leader. You kill the Goddess of War.”

“What?” Zahra hissed. She was seated adjacent to me. Dameon’s hand fell on Zahra’s forearm, trying to comfort her. Zahra and Saphira used to be friends, a long time ago. She might just be one of the only people in this room who had been able to crack through my sister’s cold exterior, gilded in malice and contempt.

“She’s right,” Brutus decreed, his brows lifting. “Saphira must die. It will set a precedent.”

“No!” Zahra shouted, getting up from her chair with some difficulty due to her swollen belly. She was getting close to her due date. “We cannot kill one of our own. ”

Dameon stood up with her, trying to comfort his mate. “Zahra,” he cautioned, looking down at her, then to her belly.

She gave him a fierce look that was enough to make a grown-ass male shrivel up into the fetal position. Still, Dameon held firm at her side, unwavering and loyal.

I had never been jealous of their bond before, but at that moment, I was.

I turned my attention away, eyes fixing on the goddess at the end of the table as she stood up from her chair and declared, “The moment she turned her back on our king, she turned her back on us all.”

“Agreed,” the god sitting beside her said.

A few more immortals joined in, voicing their approval. Like a tidal wave, it took them over. One by one, people shot up from their chairs, until most of them were calling out for my sister’s death.

“How would we do it? Is anyone aware of what the Goddess of War’s weakness is?” asked Brutus as he scrubbed at his chin.

“I’m sure Zahra knows,” Erynna said, her hands gripping the table.

“I do not,” Zahra growled, one hand clenched by her side, the other supporting the base of her stomach. “And even if I did, I would not tell any of you. Have you all gone insane?”

That sparked a great deal of outrage and then the room erupted into shouting and yelling and finger-pointing. My shadows slithered around me, seeping into the room, my anger building and building until—

“Sit down,” I commanded in a lethal tone .

Immediately, the room went silent, swiftly followed by the sound of wood creaking as they sat down in their chairs, their lips tightly closed. Not one of them dared to even clear their throat.

I looked around the table, leveling each gaze directed my way. “I will deal with the mess my sister has made.”

“What will you do?” Zahra asked, her eyes shining with worry.

“I’m going to make an example of my sister,” I said, standing up.

“Von, no,” she pleaded with me.

I offered her a sympathetic look before I said to them all, “I do not disagree that a precedent needs to be set, but if I end my sister’s life, it will give legitimacy to her claim that I am not fit to lead. It will look like I fear her. And knowing the people, they will make her a martyr. That is the last thing I need.” I shook my head. “I won’t end my sister’s life, but I will show the people of the Spirit Realm what happens to those who rise against me.”

I turned to Ismay, who had been quiet for the majority of the meeting. “I want the throne room filled to the brim within fifteen minutes.”

She nodded swiftly.

I sat on my throne, overlooking my domain.

Hundreds upon hundreds of souls had filed into the throne room, all of them pulled from different tiers. These people were my witnesses who, in a matter of minutes, would see what happened to those who tried to go against me. They would become my mouthpieces, telling others what they had seen here today.

They just didn’t know that that was their purpose.

Because they didn’t know, it made for one nervous crowd, made up of weary, suspicious eyes and rigid, trembling bodies. Their expressions became even more severe as they took in what I had placed in front of the stairs that led up to my throne—

A separate dais, high enough for all to see.

Above it, my shadow chains dangled from the ceiling, mirrored by shorter ones that were tethered to the base. Cuffs were attached to them, a set for wrists and a set for ankles.

The doors opened and two sentries dragged my sister into the room. Her feet skittered beneath her as she fought their hold, her hair strewn about haphazardly. Her strapless leather dress was torn. Her skin was covered in deep slits, her body too weak to heal them.

The New Gods preferred iron to suppress divine powers. Here in the Spirit Realm, we had other methods, older methods. Methods that involved depleting the immortal of ichor to dampen their powers. It was a bit more barbaric, sure, but it had been used since the early days of the Three Realms, long before the effects of iron were discovered.

Heads swiveled as she was pulled down the aisle against her will, shouting insults and orders to unhand her—none of which were heard by my shadow sentries. When they reached the dais in front of me, they shoved her onto her knees.

“You’ll pay for that,” she snarled at them, trying to pull free from their grasp.

I left my throne, appearing in a bit of swirling black, standing before her.

“Brother,” she snarled, her green eyes burning hotter than a forge.

For a moment, I held her gaze. That was all I would give her.

Looking at my sentries, I gave my order. “Face her towards the crowd.”

They bowed swiftly.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to fight them off as they dragged her up onto the dais. I followed behind them.

I could feel the scabs on her skin as I grasped her forearm, taking her from them. She tried to pull free, but her attempt was futile. I cuffed her wrist and then moved on to the next one. By the time I started on her feet, she was yelling.

“Let your wings out, Saphira,” I said.

“No!” she cried out, her body trembling as realization hit her.

“You can do it of your own free will, or I will command it of you,” I told her, my voice filled with heavy, heavy smoke.

“I won’t,” she snarled.

“Then you leave me no choice.” Power, ancient and lethal, seeped from my skin, drifting around her as I commanded, “Release your wings.”

Saphira yelled as she tried to fight against my control, but it was of no use. The divinity in her was forced to bow to its superior. Sleek, black wings unfurled from her back, the tips draping to the floor. They were the feminine version of my own, a reminder that she and I were kin .

Brother and sister.

At least, we used to be.

I wrapped my hand around the section that connected her wing to her back. The bone was large, covered in the silk of her feathers. With my other hand, I held on to her shoulder. I looked up at the crowd, my voice filling the chamber as I roared, “I will show no mercy to those who raise arms against me.”

Muscle, sinew, and flesh popped and tore as I started to rip Saphira’s one wing from her back. A bloodcurdling scream slashed its way out of her, so horrific it sent people cowering to their knees. My molars threatened to combust into dust as her wing came off, her warm ichor spraying all over me.

Saphira’s body went slack as she sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

I felt her lifeless wing in my hand, dangling there. I looked at it and then to the gaping hole in her back, and I wondered for a moment—would death have been the kinder thing to do for her?

When I glanced up, my gaze immediately met Zahra’s. Dameon supported his mate, holding her upright as tears streamed down her face, her mouth open as she wailed. I was reminded of the time when my sister’s face had looked very much the same as Zahra’s. It was the day she lost her mate—Aryx. A day that would forever be ingrained in my mind.

Just as this one would be.

I dropped her one wing and it landed with a sickening, lifeless thud . I reached for the other, my hand locking around it.

“Draevon, no, please,” she begged me as she wept, her voice so weak. So broken. The fight in the Goddess of War was gone.

“You left me no choice,” I told her. Then I pulled. The joints hissed until they snapped, my arm jerking back from the force as her second wing tore out of its socket, fleshy bits of skin coming along with it.

Saphira slumped, the chains holding her weight.

Her sobs haunted me as I picked up her other ichor-coated wing, the end dipped in ivory flesh. “From this day forth, you are exiled from the Spirit Realm, Saphira,” I said over my shoulder, delivering my final blow.

I didn’t bother to look back as I walked down the aisle, dragging her wings behind me for all to see.

This was the cost of Saphira’s betrayal.

This was the cost of being king.