Our Vicious Oaths, page 42
That means we balance each other out and are the perfect complements, Malachi had insisted.
Could this actually work? Could this actually be real?
“I love you, too.” When the life-changing words spilled forth, they felt as natural as breathing. So, too, did what she confessed next. “I don’t actually want to kill you either. You’re stunning when you aren’t being a brute. You’re a king who values and safeguards his people and a male who is fiercely loyal to those he has claimed as his own. And when you are being a merciless ass, well, I can at least understand your reasoning for that—as long as it doesn’t go too far.” It’s also hot as hell, but I’m not going to stroke his ego that much right now. “So you’re aware, a widespread massacre, for any reason, is going too far.”
He snorted, and she smacked his chest. “I’m serious. If I am your high queen, that doesn’t happen. Ever. I won’t abide it and once we have this child, I want him to witness true justice that doesn’t visit violence on innocents. This way our son will grow up and become a monarch who rules in service of his folk instead of crushing them beneath his heel. It is so very easy for us monarchs to become the latter. Even my father was an example of such, and I hated it then, just as I hate it now. Do you understand?” She stared Malachi directly in the eye and held his gaze so he truly got that this was a nonnegotiable. She waited, knowing that formulating the answer she wanted would be difficult for him. He was too much of a stubborn ass. But if they were really going to work, then she needed more than an answer. She needed his vow. Because she knew he would mean it then, and that was what mattered. So she pressed, “If you can agree to that too, then I’ll be your high queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”
“That last term might be slightly challenging,” Malachi said quietly. “With you and a child to protect, I will not hesitate to eviscerate entire kingdoms, the entire continent, if I even catch wind of a brewing plot to cause either of you harm. I already told you: I would lay waste to the entire damn realm to prove a point not to fuck with what’s mine, and I will not apologize for doing so. However,” he added when she moved to argue, “I’ll agree for that to be the only condition upon which I act so extremely. Can you live with that?”
As she stared into the smoldering promise his darkened gaze projected, that he’d always protect and shed blood for her and their babe, she weighed those terms. She’d be lying if she claimed she wouldn’t battle against exhibiting a similar fury if their future child was threatened, even given where she stood on the issue. He was asking her to endorse annihilation if that happened, and yet she’d be a hypocrite if she didn’t acknowledge that the very thought of her baby being in danger filled her with murderous intent.
She took a deep breath, mostly because while she’d already decided to agree to his condition, she still couldn’t resist the fact that she disliked letting him win anything. Finally, she said, “I can live with it. But let’s work hard to see that it does not come to that.”
He peered down at her, his smile—an authentic, heart-meltingly genuine one—as wicked as it was handsome. “As I said,” he murmured, “you have but to ask for the world and I shall hand it to you, wife. Whatever you desire, it is yours.” He kissed her, and this time, there was no resistance; this time it was an all-consuming affair that sent electric currents skimming all over her body.
When they broke off, he swore the vow she’d asked of him.
Afterward, Kadeesha basked in the afterglow, reveling being encased in Malachi’s arms while he sank inside her without any barriers or uncertain intentions left between them.
“Go the fuck away,” Malachi bellowed when a knock sounded at the door.
She and Malachi both cursed when the knocking grew more insistent. “You’re about to lose your hand!” he barked.
He grunted when the door creaked open and then repositioned himself on the bed beside Kadeesha. She pulled the fur blanket up over her breasts as Trystin walked inside. He sported a wide, beaming grin and said, “Before you try to take my head for interrupting your wedding night, cousin, I thought you’d both want to know that Zayvier and Samira are awake in the infirmary.” He dramatically bowed behind the announcement, clearly amused by the astonished looks that sat on Kadeesha’s and Malachi’s faces.
“You’re most welcome, my king and queen,” he stated after he straightened. “And yes, I will take more riches and endless boons for being so brilliant with runes that I found a way to rouse them.”
Kadeesha’s eyes stung. She found herself crying, happy, shocked tears streaming down her face. “You—Are you serious?” she sputtered.
“Would I have risked this handsome face if I was joking? I know how testy my cousin can be.”
“Then you have my eternal gratitude. Thank you.”
Beside her, Malachi groaned. “Don’t tell him that. Now he’ll become—no, he will be more of a pain in the ass and you’ll be sorry.” Despite his words, Malachi leapt from the bed, not caring about being nude. He strode to Trystin and clasped his cousin’s forearm. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I’d hug you but—”
Trystin made a gagging noise while shoving Malachi back a step. “It’s fine. Please spare me. The healers want them to stay a bit longer for observation, but Zayvier and Samira are both asking for each of you.”
Kadeesha flung the fur off herself as well. She was already rushing toward the door that led to Malachi’s massive bathing chamber, which held several armoires, intending to find a tunic to slip on, when a fresh pair of bootsteps sounded behind her and a feminine voice cried out, “We have a huge fucking problem!”
It was the ragged edge to Shionne’s tone, the positively stricken and rattled way the words rolled off her tongue, that had Kadeesha whipping around and knowing in her bones that something was catastrophically wrong.
“Was it … was it another attack?” she asked Shionne, a nauseating mash-up of rage and horror trying to claw its way up her throat. Great Celestials, so many had already died over literally nothing more than old grudges held between monarchs.
Shionne’s face turned ashen, Malachi snarled, and Kadeesha knew, she damn well knew what it was, before the female told Malachi, “Just about every surrounding residential sector is ablaze and scouts have spotted Rishaud, in the flesh, in our territory. He marches for the palace with thousands of soldiers from all of the Six Kingdoms at his back.”
Shadows swirled around Malachi. Even more poured forward and invaded every corner of the room, dropping it into near-total darkness, save for the slivers of rising sunlight that seeped in from the window.
“How did he get this close undetected?” Kadeesha’s voice was barely above a whisper. “He had to have marched the army northward across the entire southern expanses of Apollyon territory to be upon the palace. His solar magic is powerful, but even he can’t teleport that many soldiers. And the strongest of transport runes couldn’t accomplish it either, right?” She directed the very last question at Trystin, even as horror was rooting her bare feet to the floor. Not for herself—she’d be damned if she displayed a trace of fear where Rishaud was concerned. But she’d just almost secured a future where what he was doing wouldn’t be possible. Where an untold number of lives wouldn’t just be snuffed out on a whim and the devastation of this war that had been centuries in the making was mitigated. But oceans of blood were still being spilled at this precise moment.
Trystin, who usually displayed a level of urbanity that Malachi rarely bothered with, radiated the same savage rage as the cousin who stood a few feet in front of him. “You’d be surprised what one can accomplish if they put in the labor to seek out the right rune.” His voice was startlingly even, but all the more malevolent for it.
“I am assuming that motherfucker,” Malachi said, the very floor beneath her feet shaking at the wrath in his voice, “has several generals among his army who are skilled in both teleportation and masking runes.” She’d heard him shout, growl, snarl, bark commands, and even issue threats in that coolly smug tone of his that often got under her skin. But Malachi stated the guess in a quiet voice that was as cold and eviscerating and utterly devoid of mercy as she imagined the black Void—where all life had begun and where all life ended—itself was. He followed it up with two simple statements that made her blood run cold.
“He’s about to regret having the balls to step foot on my lands or come after my wife.” He then let Kadeesha know, “If he’s here to retrieve you, which isn’t fucking happening, this counts as an exception, love, so we’re clear.”
It was right then that Kadeesha knew the unimaginable death toll had only barely begun if Malachi had anything to say about it. The Apollyon king would face down Rishaud and his army and try his damnedest to annihilate every soul who’d had a hand in taking additional Apollyon lives and who bolstered Rishaud’s advancement toward the palace and Kadeesha—Malachi’s wife.
And so many more would die because when fae kings like Malachi and Rishaud clashed, the result was cataclysm.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“WHAT’S THE COUNT OF COURTIERS WHO ARE IN residence at this moment in the palace?” she asked Malachi, forcing the ice in her veins that had formed at his pitiless tone to thaw. It had been an innate response born of the most primitive, ancient sense of self-preservation. However, she didn’t have the time to let it linger. She also knew the murderous quiet fury he’d slipped into wasn’t aimed at her. It was aimed at their common enemy. And for Celestials’ sake, she hoped Rishaud was finally about to get his due.
Malachi’s gaze darkened. At first, she surmised he might shrug and remind her he cared nothing about the peacock nobles who usually preened around court. But then she thought about how that response would’ve been completely off for Malachi—a male who insisted on dominating every situation, who measured and kept track of small and large threats with ruthless efficiency, and who despised being caught unaware. So it was little surprise when Malachi told her, “There are exactly one hundred and twenty-five courtiers, fifty-two servants, eighty-one infirmary patients, eighteen healers, two hundred and twelve guards, and twenty-seven prisoners in the palace at this moment. If you’re asking about how many I give a fuck about protecting, the number is four hundred and eighty-eight. The prisoners are the latest Niyarre and Tareek batches being interrogated and they can rot.”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Shionne drawled.
Seriously? Kadeesha thought. How can she be joking at a time like this?
Because she’s not joking, she realized. This was Malachi restrained, and there was still a bad side she had yet to see.
At first, she figured it was this thought that made her shiver. But then she realized cool air was brushing against her shins. Kadeesha looked down to see shadows swirling around her legs and floating upward. They settled around her from neck to thighs, draping themselves over her as if she wore a robe spun of void magic. Which, she guessed she did at the moment. Malachi, whom she now stood beside, shot a pointed look at the covering he’d offered so she didn’t need to waste time hunting for clothing right then. “You’re welcome.”
If they were in a less perilous situation, she would’ve informed her arrogant husband that she hadn’t expressed any thanks. “Samira and Zayvier are among those infirmary patients,” she said instead. “The two of them and all the other civilians need to be evacuated in case—”
“That fucking outcome is not happening.” Again, the ground shook from the force of Malachi’s voice.
The innate sense of self-preservation hissed at her to tread carefully … which she ignored because Malachi and his usual dominance crap could kiss her ass. The risk at hand was the only thing that mattered. “If the palace finds itself under a true siege and falls to Rishaud and his forces, then nearly three hundred innocent people will assuredly be slaughtered. That’s how Rishaud operates.” She’d seen it with her own court. “As the first order of business, we need to get them out of the palace before Rishaud arrives,” she stressed to Malachi.
The shadows around the room and those covering her body grew inkier and more glacial with every fresh mention of the Hyperion king. “That is not our first order of business, wife, if we’re under siege.” He sank enough annoyance into the word to make it clear how incensed he was that Rishaud had beat him to leveling that particular strike. “Is the rest of the Cadre already marshaling our troops?” he asked Shionne. “I want them in formation just outside the portcullis and ready to meet Rishaud’s army when they arrive.”
Shionne raked a hand through her slender braids. “Don’t insult me or our brethren with that question.”
The left corner of Malachi’s mouth quirked upward in a smile. “I figured they were dispatching orders as we speak. I was only providing a demonstration to our queen.” He angled toward Kadeesha and imparted, “Readying your assault is always a monarch’s first order of business. If we and our army fall, then there is nobody left to protect the larger court.”
She raised her chin and stabbed him with a glower. They had a lot of disparate ideas they would need to work out so they didn’t kill each other since they’d decided to stay married and bring a child into this realm together. “If you have no faefolk left behind because you didn’t make securing their safety a priority, then you ultimately will end up fighting for literally nothing and nobody, husband.”
He studied her for a moment, still nude, and then inclined his head toward her. “I did vow to work at compromising,” he muttered. Then, he told his cousin, “The first thing you do is ward the interior of the palace against teleportation, so any enemy who slips past the gates needs to navigate through the palace via a much slower and exposed route on foot and can be more easily intercepted. After that is done, carry out our queen’s wishes. Gather a contingent of guards, round up all the civilians, and use the tunnels beneath the palace to lead them to safety. Don’t tell anyone in your party where you’re going beforehand,” Malachi warned, “in case—”
“You don’t need to waste time by relaying the rest,” Trystin said dryly. “I remember Nychelle’s orders from the last go-round.”
The last go-round. He was talking about when Rishaud had instigated the uprising and massacre that killed Malachi’s parents and everyone else in their inner circle except Nychelle.
Trystin’s mention of the Cleric’s Rebellion plainly changed something within Malachi because he held his cousin’s stare with more gravity. The cocksure arrogance was gone from his tone when he impressed his orders upon his cousin, who was the duke prime and second in line for the Apollyon throne. “Get everyone to the same location Nychelle gave you back then. Your orders remain the same too. If I don’t make it …” He paused to slice a look at Kadeesha. “If we don’t rip that fucker limb from limb, then you pick up the mantle of Apollyon king, protect what’s ours, and rebuild. The Apollyonfolk created a flourishing court out of the bare minimum once before. We have our ancestors’ blood, pure ingenuity, and resilience. You and the rest of the court can do so again. Do not, ever, kneel to Rishaud nor any other monarch who is not of Apollyon blood by either birth or marriage.”
“I really wish you’d put on some clothes or wrap shadows around your waist, for skies’ sake,” Trystin muttered. Then, he stepped closer to Malachi. He reached forward as Malachi did at the same time. The cousins seized each other’s forearms and clasped them.
Malachi grinned. “Now do you want to hug?”
“Absolutely not,” Trystin said succinctly. “I’ll hug you when I see you next. So put that huge-ass ego of yours back on, cousin, and don’t bloody damn die. If you do, I will find a rune capable of snatching your soul away from Nyaxia and depositing you back among the realm of the living just so I can kick your ass for being a prick and leaving me with the burden of ruling. Got it?”
Malachi snorted. “Even if I were the reanimated dead, you’d never kick my ass, cousin.”
Shionne, who was leaning against the open door’s frame, placed a hand over her heart. “That’s how they’ve said I love you since they were like five,” she told Kadeesha. “Aren’t they adorable?”
Adorable was certainly one word to describe the dynamics between Malachi and the cousin he actually liked. She recalled him and Nychelle both mentioning how they had been raised like brothers. Pitying Nychelle, she internally winced at the absolute pains they certainly had been growing up.
After Trystin departed, she returned to her own room to dress quickly in flying leathers and then notify her Nkita of Rishaud’s imminent assault. While the majority of her sisters hurried to fetch the kongamatos from the aerie, she and Leisha joined Malachi, Nychelle, and his Cadre for a strategy meeting in the war room.
“You never mentioned if any of the vassal kings were spotted among Rishaud’s forces,” Kadeesha inquired of Shionne as soon as she arrived. She should’ve asked the question back in Malachi’s room. Now that the initial shock of an early assault had worn off, she was thinking more clearly. More like the general of a squadron. More like the high queen she’d become.
“That’s because none were spotted,” Shionne answered tightly from where she stood on the opposite edge of the war table. Dedrick, Kiyun, and Jakobi all stood beside her clothed in the same fighting leathers that were a merciless black. Malachi, who stood to Kadeesha’s right, wore them too, along with ceremonial war regalia. A metal breastplate that also gleamed black was locked into place over his chest. The coat of arms of the Apollyon Court—a silver crescent moon with a silver star cradled inside it—was emblazoned in its center. Ornate silver trimmings framed the moon and star. His shin and arm guards matched the breastplate. Plus, the dazzling platinum grille flashed every time he spoke, nearly blinding Kadeesha. He’d tried to insist she don the same ceremonial armor that would mark her as his fearsome counterpart and the Apollyon queen—a warrior queen, as he’d said—but if she was fighting this battle, then she’d do this one thing the Aether way. Once she mounted Zahzah for flight, the armor would only be a nuisance.
