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Chapters (50)
  1. The Plan Commences
  2. Table of Contents
  3. The Grieving
  4. The Mortal Blow
  5. The New Queen
  6. The Marital Bed
  7. The Trembling
  8. The Reinforcements
  9. The Vision
  10. The Setback
  11. The Incomplete Circle
  12. The Game
  13. The Gale
  14. The Plan
  15. The Splendor
  16. The Breakfast
  17. The Formidables
  18. The Sisterhood
  19. The Allies
  20. The Discipline
  21. The Significance
  22. The Patra
  23. The Doors
  24. The Finnie
  25. The Final Choice
  26. The Worth
  27. The Chalk
  28. The Unicorns
  29. The Dance
  30. The Vows
  31. The Enchantments
  32. The Surprise
  33. The Trick
  34. The Confrontation
  35. The Honesty
  36. The Kiss
  37. The Call
  38. The Decision
  39. The Duo
  40. The Wrongs
  41. The New Advisor
  42. The Welcome
  43. The Pet
  44. The Sacred Horn
  45. The Decryption
  46. The Royal Wedding
  47. The Plan Commences
  48. About the Author
  49. Books by Kristen Ashley
  50. Connect with Kristen Ashley

And the priest did not wish to even consider what Thom would say about all this.

“What have I done?” he whispered.

There was naught but you.

“How could that be?” he moaned.

No.

No, he had been betrayed.

You did not betray your master.

This was naught but a setback.

And the prophecy had fallen with the death of Farah.

They had time.

All the time they needed.

He would leave that day.

They would advance a new conspirator. It did not take long to train a man to rape and kill.

At such, they were naturals.

All would be well.

A delay.

They had no one to fight them now.

When the Beast rose, all would be theirs.

Or his.

And the Beast would be his new chosen one.

He did not need Rupert.

It was as it should be.

Or it would be.

Soon.

38

The New Queen

The People of Firenze

Fire City

THE DAY OF THE MAJESTIC NUPTIALS OF THEIR KING

On their way to the pits, Silence of the Dellish sat before their king on his steed known as Hephaestus, a horse revered as one of the strongest, fastest, most graceful mounts in the realm, as his father was, as the mare he sired was.

The mare, known as Epona, having been given to their future queen by their king.

She was the one who trotted beside them as she did to the parade, riderless.

Silence of Wodell was bloodied, shockingly so.

But her chin was up, and her eyes remained straight, her shoulders squared, as their king held her tight to his body, protection in his grip, pride in his bearing.

She entered the necropolis with no apparent trepidation.

And all who saw her watched.

Closely.

Her skin was so pale naturally, it could not be known how she fared when she left the necropolis hours after.

What was seen, as the people of Fire City crowded the stands around the tarpits to watch the death march of the latest traitors, was King Mars taking the royal podium with his bride.

He then lifted her—arse to the stout railing that guarded the podium from the tar, her back to the pits.

But he moved into her, sliding his arm around her waist to steady her on her perch, pressing his hip to the side of her leg, and she cuddled into him, twisted to face the tar.

While all others stood—for there were no chairs anywhere around the pits, the stands, or even on the royal podium—their king found a way to make his bride comfortable.

This, many thought odd.

Some thought it sweet.

Though others did not.

However, they would eventually discover why he did as such.

She showed no emotion as the four men walked (or more aptly limped, trudged or dragged themselves) into the pit.