Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

27. Arran

27

ARRAN

The Dolorous Guard waited for Veyka, still and silent. Anyone who approached understood the cost of entry. If they did not, they’d learn quickly.

Veyka was unhurried as well. In her left hand, she held one dagger with lethal casualness. In her right, she flicked the other blade over hilt. Anyone watching would assume that the left was her weaker hand, based on the movements alone. But it was a trick, I knew. One I’d seen her use against many opponents. She was just as good with either hand. And good was a dangerous understatement.

The walls of the fortress were designed to hide the numbers of those within, just like the army camp across the bay. But I’d stood on those battlements enough times to know that by now, news of our approach had spread. There were surely thousands of eyes on Veyka.

Above my head, a buzzard circled the gate tower before perching on the edge. Crows cawed. Real or shifter, even the animals watched as Veyka disappeared.

And reappeared an inch in front of the Dolorous Guard.

Watching her took my breath away. She did not bother to slip in and out of the void after that first blow. Yet I knew that there were those questioning if she did, trying to make sense of how she could be so incredibly fast.

Years of torture and training.

She’d honed herself into a weapon as formidable as any in Annwyn. Even me.

The Dolorous Guard kept up, but only just. He had yet to land a blow or to make an offensive parry. Every swipe of his massive greatsword was defensive. Veyka danced in and out of range, forcing him to extend himself and leave his body exposed. Then on the next turn, his arm. She slashed into his face, then his arm. I heard the reverberating crack of bone. But she did not go for the kill, even when she knocked his helmet free and exposed his neck.

She was toying with him.

She could have landed her killing blow in the first second she appeared from the void. Ripped off his helmet, slit his throat, and been done with it.

But this… it was not just for the show. Veyka did it because she enjoyed it.

My wolf howled his appreciation inside of me. Ancestors, as if I wasn’t already hard for her.

Is that for me? Veyka’s sinuous voice slid into my mind.

I shifted my weight on the marshy ground. You know it is.

She did not even break stride, slashing across the Dolorous Guard’s chest with a clever blow that used the weight of his own armor to knock the air from his lungs. Such a needy beast. Does watching bloodshed make you wild?

Only when it involves you.

I was too far away to hear her laugh, but I felt the rumbling of barbed joy as it rose inside of her. She spun away from a blow, that wicked smile on her face. Have they realized it yet?

That you could have killed him ten minutes ago? Her only response was to keep fighting. Even terrestrials are clever enough to figure it out.

Good. Because I’m hungry . Veyka lunged forward, plunging a dagger low in the Dolorous Guard’s belly. He stumbled, she forced him to his knees. She crossed her daggers at his throat, and a second later his head hit the marshy ground with a muted thud .

The response was resounding silence.

Then, as Veyka wiped the thick scarlet blood from her blades on the trousers of the downed body, a creak echoed across the marsh and up into the forest beyond. Veyka rose to stand in time with the gate.

She sheathed her blades and shot me a look. “Come and show me around, Brutal Prince.”

Lyrena and Barkke flanked us on either side. Isolde sheltered directly behind Veyka, on her orders. Of the five of us, Isolde was the most defenseless. I’d seen her wield those wicked claws, but she was a healer, not a warrior. And here she would be a fascinating oddity. Already I marked the gasped inhales as the crowd of terrestrials parted to make way for our party.

Expressions ranging from awe to outright scorn appeared on the faces of the terrestrials around us. My kind did not bother to hide their emotions, not in the practiced way the elementals did. We sneered at bloodlines and nobility. All that mattered in the terrestrial court was strength. Veyka had been right to insist she fight the Dolorous Guard.

For all that I was the supposed strategist, commander of armies, my mate was learning. Fast.

My compatriots, however, were slow to learn.

Every eye was upon us. There could be no doubt who we were.

But not a single knee bent.

Not a word of reverence was uttered.

Veyka’s face was impassive.

But my rage was alive.

The outer walls of the fortress were enchanted to keep outside vines and branches from penetrating. But inside, ancient trees grew within the bailey, their tops reaching up to join the worn gray towers. Ivy coated the walls. A flora-gifted terrestrial’s playground. And I was the strongest terrestrial in millennia.

If they noticed the trees bending to my will or were too transfixed by the arrival of their king and queen, I did not care. There was no escaping the vines that crawled along the ground or the branches that reached across the battlements. I did not have to lift a hand to command my power. The terrestrial flora bowed to me. And every single one of the terrestrials would bow to my mate.

“Bow,” my beast growled.

It was not a warning, nor a request.

A thousand sets of knees crashed down onto the stone and dirt. I forced every single terrestrial watching to the ground—where they belonged, kneeling before their queen.

Veyka watched, her face still unreadable. A few of the terrestrials wobbled, grabbing at each other to keep themselves upright. Veyka laughed when one fell face-first against the flagstones. Dagger in hand, she approached the female nearest to her. She dragged a fingernail along the back of the female’s exposed neck.

“Should I slit a few throats to drive the point home?” Veyka asked, her voice bored.

“As you wish, my queen.” I made sure that every terrestrial, subjugated down to their knees, heard my words.

They were no longer the recipients of my protection, the benefactors of my generation-shattering magic. Veyka was. And it was time they all knew it.

Veyka stepped back from the female. She opened her mouth to say something else, but another sound echoed across the inner bailey. A single staircase rose along the far wall, ragged stones jutting out of the wall itself. At the top, a door groaned as it opened.

A willowy female appeared at the top of the staircase, her dark skin and darker hair framed by the stone archway behind her. She wore a deep sapphire gown, simple in the way favored by terrestrials, cut close to her body except for the slit that ran to her hip, revealing the matching dark blue leather leggings beneath—and the dagger strapped to her slender thigh.

Recognition. Knowing. Supreme confidence edged her motions as she tossed her halo of tight black curls over her shoulders. Her eyes marked Veyka, but it was me she addressed.

“Welcome home, Arran Earthborn.”