They were the anti-Sorceri.

But then, Thronos had once been too—before she’d gotten ahold of him. These Vrekeners had no idea that Hurricane Lanthe had just made landfall in the Skye. —Are Vrekeners always so somber?— If she didn’t know better, she might have thought someone had ensorcelled their land with misery.

To be fair, she would’ve expected shrieks as mothers shoved their kids back into their weird roofless houses. But the people were steady and unflinching.

Unsmiling.

—Not usually this tense. I’m keen to find out what’s going on.—

The moment he’d come within sight of his people, Thronos had clenched his jaw and worked not to limp, which must be killing him. She had used her powers on him last night; maybe she could try to help with his pain.

But pain obliteration was a command that could seriously backfire. As she debated the pros and cons, she realized what was missing from this picture. —Where are the Sorceri?—

—Good question. I’ll soon have answers for you.—

Then the grand Skye Hall loomed over her and Thronos. Last night she’d gazed upon it and marveled that she was that close to the seat of Vrekener power.

Now she was about to enter. Sabine would never believe it!

As Lanthe and Thronos climbed the stairs, his wings rippled, as if he was preparing for battle.

They entered what looked like an anteroom of sorts. The construction was awing, but she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Without a roof, it seemed like a ruin—or an arena. Yet it was pristine.

From there, she and Thronos crossed through a double doorway into a larger room with a giant round table. Forty or so males were seated about it in backless chairs.

Shocker, it was a sausage fest. Not a single female knight. Ugh.

There was no throne or dais. The arrangement looked like one of those town-hall kinds of settings where royalty acted like they were just normal folks, and no one got elevated above others (though the royals were the ones whose heads would roll if shit went down).

All the males appeared astonished to see Melanthe.

“My wife and princess.” Thronos held up her gauntleted hand. “Melanthe of the Deie Sorceri.”

She peered up at him, and her heart thudded. He gazed at her with absolute acceptance. My husband. When her sorcery sparked with her pleasure, several hawk-eyed gazes locked on it, but no one said a word. They probably assumed it was just sorcery left over—after Thronos had harvested her power.

If so . . . psych!

The Vrekeners who recovered quickest shot to their feet, in respect for their prince at least. The ones who hadn’t stood received a murderous look from Thronos until they did.

“My wife and I are eager to hear news of the realm.”

When all the males took a step away from the table and began to kneel, Thronos’s scars grew even lighter—and Lanthe got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. . . .

FIFTY

My brother is dead.

These males would kneel before only one male in this domain or any other. Their king.

Thronos said one word: “Aristo?”

Jasen answered, “He has recently passed on, my liege. I apologize for not saying something earlier, but I couldn’t reveal any details out of the assembly. And there is . . . much to be explained.”

—I’m sorry, Thronos.— Melanthe looked as shocked as he felt.

Working to make his tone even, Thronos said, “Be seated.” He led her to a chair, taking the one beside her. “How did he die?”

“He was murdered,” Jasen said. “By the king of the Deathly Ones demonarchy.”

Murdered?

“There is no king of that demonarchy,” Melanthe said. “I’m friends with Bettina, their princess. She’s half Sorceri. As of a few weeks ago, she was unwed.”

Jasen told her, “We understand that the male who wed their princess is a Dacian vampire who won her in a recent tournament.”

Thronos cast her a questioning glance. —Dacians actually exist? I thought they were a myth.—

—I’ve always believed they did. Thronos, I fear we’ve been gone for longer than we thought.—

—As do I.— Aloud, he asked the others, “What reason had this king to murder another?”

“There are those who say the act was purportedly carried out in retaliation for some perceived violence done to his Bride.”

Thronos frowned at Jasen. “Perceived violence?” Compared to Melanthe’s straight-from-the hip talk, this deferential speak grated.

With regret on her face, she told him, “A few months ago, Bettina was attacked by four Vrekeners. Though she’s a young, ninety-five-pound waif who’s never harmed anyone, they broke every bone in her body. Then they doused her with spirits, about to burn her alive. She was rescued just in time.”

He recalled Melanthe telling him that she and Sabine weren’t the only ones brutalized. Thronos expected denials from the knights. Any second the warrior males would staunchly reject the idea that a Vrekener could be capable of such a craven act.

The silence that reigned gave Thronos chills.

All eyes turned to Jasen to continue. Thronos supposed the male had assumed the role of leader in the absence of a king, which was surprising. Thronos would’ve expected Cadmus, their general knight of war, to lead. Yet Cadmus sat quietly, as if biding his time.

Jasen said, “The vampire took your brother and three of his knights.”

“From where?”