TENSLEY WALKED with pride before the soldiers in the courtyard beside the palace, the glaring sun high in the sky, heat steaming from the dirt ground, and the smell of the salty sea surrounding them.
Each healed bruise was a strike against their king. Tensley proved himself the night before, and now in front of the king’s army, fully healed by Molly’s touch, proved how powerful and lethal the two of them were.
Fallen could play his games.
Tensley had his queen, and she, above all else, was a force to reckon with.
“Today,” Tensley began, his voice loud and crisp, the soldiers still as tree trunks in a forest, their heads leveled, their shoulders back, and not an ounce of emotion visible on their features. “We train, hand to hand combat.”
The soldiers didn’t nod or move, only stayed motionless and stared ahead.
Tensley squared his jaw, and after a pause, he pulled his jacket off, along with his white blouse, exposing more of his healing torso.
“And I’ll be training also,” Tensley said, nodding to Rune.
Rune didn’t show his shock, but Tensley saw his hands tighten at his side.
Rune stepped forward, his tattooed body glistening from sweat under the harsh sun.
Tensley bent, gripping a handful of dirt and coating his palms.
Rune did the same, his dark eyes never leaving Tensley.
Spreading his legs far apart, Tensley positioned himself for the attack.
Tensley’s eyes narrowed at Rune’s posture, his back arched, his hands spread wide. He watched the drops of sweat roll down Rune’s neck, joining other droplets of energy and exhaustion.
“Don’t go easy on me,” Tensley warned him.
Rune’s emotionless eyes tensed and he nodded.
One breath, one single moment, and they both lunged.
Beat after beat, punch after punch, the two fought like animals. Teeth, hands, elbows—everything capable of being a weapon.
Rune was quick and skilled, most likely raised a warrior, and planned to die a warrior. His hands moved gracefully but with aim and calculation.
That didn’t stop Tensley from striking harder, faster, and with determination.
After bruises and bloody lips, Tensley stepped back, shaking his head. “Next.”
Rune, chest heaving, bowed to Tensley and walked back to his line.
Hours they trained together. The entire army in perfect harmony.
Tensley wiped the sweat from his bottom lip and folded his arms, watching his soldiers’ graceful movements.
A motion in the balcony caught his eye, and he glanced up to see Fallen, his golden crown of ivy and thorns twisted around the top of his head, glimmering from the high sun.
Fallen didn’t look away when Tensley caught him. He simply grinned thinly. Seto dressed in a golden suit of armor stood behind him, no doubt sweating in the thick metal.
“Ah, so the king watches his subjects,” a voice shook Tensley from his focus. He glanced back to see the prince strolling toward him. Dressed in beige briefs and a navy jacket, weathered high-knee riding boots, he grinned at Tensley.
Tensley grimaced and turned away. He eyed his soldiers, but he felt the prince’s eyes on his back. With the presence of the prince, their bargain weighed heavier on his chest like a cement block. Like the sun burning the top of his scalp.
“My father favors his guard,” the prince added, stepping to stand beside Tensley. Tensley pursed his lips and tried to pay attention to his soldiers’ movements, grunts and groans filling the courtyard. “Seto was born as one of these men. A low-class boy with no family, no wealth, and no status. First, he was a beggar on the streets, soon becoming a street fighter to gain income. Then bought into slavery. Many say he killed his owners by slitting their throats in their sleep. He escaped, only to end up in the fighting rings here. He wasn’t skilled then. He was desperate, though, and once the army honed his skills, he grew hungry for more. For a higher status.” The prince paused, looking back up to the balcony. “He challenged Fallen’s guard and won. Your next move to get me my throne should be weakening Fallen’s defenses. Starting with his royal guard.”
Tensley’s eyes slowly lifted to gaze at Fallen and Seto, both still watching them.
“Weaken him and gut his underbelly when he least expects it,” the prince whispered and then moved along.
Tensley straightened his shoulders and eyed his men, but his mind was filled with Seto, Fallen, and the prince.
And Molly.
Kill Seto?
If he had to, he would.
MOLLY ignored the hushed voices as she walked down the hallway. Everywhere she went, the ladies whispered, eyeing her, their eyes crinkling with laughter or glaring at her like she was some kind of she-devil.
Paranoia flamed inside of her.
If the prince said one word to anyone in the court about the baby, they were doomed.
But she wouldn’t let them see her anxiety. She wouldn’t let them see her falter.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t bow her head as she navigated through the grand hallways. She was the daemon, and she would not bow to a court of snakes.
A group of ladies, dressed in lavish materials of the finest silks, stood in a huddle in the middle of the hallway. When they heard the clink of Molly’s high heels, they paused and all at once, turned to stare at her.
But not a simple stare.
Some glared, and others with upturned noses spoke enough.
“Daemon,” the woman called, her chin jutted out.
Molly’s jaw clenched. Really? Daemon? I have a name.
Molly didn’t respond, didn’t acknowledge her, and kept walking, her head held high.
“Daemon,” she spat. “Answer when spoken to.”
Molly continued walking toward them, not wavering, not bypassing them but watched as they parted.
They pushed back, letting her pass.
She calmed her muscles, allowing the glow only for a moment to surface, and the women were silent.
She smiled to herself once she passed, hearing the fury of chatter behind her.
“Molly,” Prim called as she entered the courtyard, lavished with rich green ivy and plants overgrowing the walls. An impressive oak tree full with fresh green leaves stood in the middle of the courtyard, its leaves a welcoming shade from the high sun of noon.
Prim dressed in a silk gown of pale blue, her white scarf blowing in the light breeze as she moved toward her, half her dark hair tied in thick braids and weaved towards the back of her head.
She took Molly’s hand and ushered her to the side, her eyes wide with fear.
“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, looking her over.
Prim’s chest heaved, breathless. “Lilith wants me to meet a suitor.”
Molly glanced at the courtyard, seeing Lilith to the side with her ladies in waiting and a few men.
“I told her I needed more time and she agreed but—” She took in a sharp breath and stared at the men. “She has changed her mind. She desires me to present myself to them—to show them my neck.” Her hand gripped her neck, the scarf tightening.
Molly’s stomach tightened. “To show your neck?”
“It’s tradition—to make sure the woman is unmarked,” she told her, those doe brown eyes glistening with tears. “They’ll punish me—”
“Ladies,” Lilith’s smooth voice said, dripping of sweet poison.
Molly turned to face her, seeing Prim’s skin turn pale, and smiled. “Lady Lilith.”
Lilith cocked her head. “Is there a problem, Prim?”
Prim’s throat bobbed, and she shook her head, but she couldn’t meet Lilith’s eyes. “No, my lady.”
Lilith stepped closer, far too close for Molly’s liking, and lowered her mouth to Prim’s ear. “Do not keep me waiting.”
Prim’s shoulders shook, and again, she nodded.
“Good,” Lilith said, smiling pleasantly again. “Let us present you.” She gripped Prim’s arm, but Prim pulled back, her head shaking back and forth.
“I am not ready, my lady,” she said fast, her bottom lip trembling. “Give me time.”
“Either you take a husband of my choice, or you leave my court,” Lilith hissed lowly, her lips curling back in anger.
Molly wanted to speak, to say anything, but she didn’t know what would happen if she went against the queen.
Prim shook her head violently and stepped further back. “Please, my lady—”
Lilith yanked at her shoulder, her eyes pitch-black, and pulled off the scarf. She froze, her hand clenching tighter around the white fabric, gawking at Prim’s visible neck.
Prim rolled her shoulders, trying to escape the queen’s tight grip, but Lilith grabbed a fistful of her dark locks and dragged her forward.
“You whore,” Lilith seethed. “You selfish, little brat.” Lilith pulled so hard Prim cried out, falling to her knees. “Let us see what your king thinks of one of his ladies going against his wishes.”
Prim sobbed, begging between battered breaths, but Lilith continued to pull.
“Lilith,” Molly said, her voice a warning, and stepped closer, but she had no power here.
Lilith’s razor-sharp gaze sought hers and darkened. “Be this a lesson to you, daemon. Do not disobey the law of the king.”
THE COURT was in a fury of curiosity and rage, and it held a wave of seduction as the members bubbled with excitement.
Prim was dragged in front of the king and queen and the rest of the court.
The hum of talking disappeared as the king rose from his throne of gold and iron, a crown of ivory on his head, his shoes a rhythmic click, click, click.
A bullet to Molly’s thumping, wild heart.
Someone touched the small of her back, and she jerked to see Tensley behind her. His finger smoothed along her wrist bone, a reminder of protection.
Prim sat on her knees, her hair a chaotic mess of darkness, her entire torso bent to the floor, lowest as possible from the king.
“A lady of the court has been marked without my permission,” Fallen announced, but he didn’t speak to the crowd gathered in his dining hall, the walls lined with court members, curious to what was going to happen.
Shadows of the setting sun slipped across the drapery on the high walls of oak frames, hiding the legends woven into the fabric.
“Tell me the name of the man who disobeyed me,” Fallen hissed, pacing in front of Prim.
Silence.
Fallen paused, facing away from the crowd, and then spun, his features contorted in rage, and he yanked at Prim’s hair, a cry of pain piercing Molly’s eardrums and heart.
Molly clenched Tensley’s hand behind her back.
“Tell me who!” he roared, black eyes glowing in anger, his long fingers tangling deeper into her scalp. Each pull, she cried out, her face scrunched in pain.
She didn’t speak, she didn’t utter Seto’s name, and Molly glanced down the line of onlookers, setting her focus on the man who marked her.
Seto stood behind the queen, his hand wrapped around the handle of his large sword. His face held no emotion, but his fingers twitched, flexing and tightening, over and over as he watched the king shame Prim.
He wanted to strike, she could see that clearly in the way he curled and uncurled his fingers, attack the man who harmed his mate, but that man was his king. His court and crown.
“Who did this? Tell me now,” Fallen hissed, yanking her hair so far back that her back bent almost to her calves.
“Please,” Prim begged, tears flooding her flushed cheeks.
“Please?” Fallen let go and moved around her, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, tracing each man as a threat. “Who disobeyed me?”
“No!” Prim curled her body away, but he tugged harshly, and she stumbled back.
Silence.
And then heavy footsteps.
Fallen turned to see Seto stepping forward, his head held high, and his jaw clenched tight.
Fallen’s chest rose fast, staring, unmoving at his own guard.
“Fuck,” Tensley muttered under his breath.
Seto, a soldier, the king’s guard, had betrayed his oath to the court and to the crown. For Prim.
“I marked her, my lord,” Seto said lowly. “The beast took over during the Sonolios’ Hunt, and I claimed her.” His eyes—were bloodshot and they challenged his king’s stare. “I’ll take her punishment.”
“Claimed her?” Fallen chuckled, pacing back to Prim. “A soldier doesn’t have the right to claim a lady of the court. You disobey me for your own desires? I am above those. I am above your wants, hopes, and thirsts. I am your king! Your god, your sun, and your moon.” Fallen caught his breath, staring down at Prim bent over, her arms holding her middle. “I will not punish you, but I will punish her. That will serve you well.” Fallen gripped Prim’s dress and tore the back of it open, a shriek of shock and terror leaping from Prim’s mouth, clutching the dress tighter to her front. Her bare back was exposed to the court, her pronounced ribs and spine, her pure ivory skin.
Seto’s nostrils flared as Fallen angrily shook his fist, another guard handing him a long leather whip.
He wound it around his hand and tested the strength, grinning down at Prim.
“Please, please,” Prim chanted.
“No!” Seto rushed forward, but guards gripped his thick arms and held him back. “Punish me—punish me!” He shouted it, his voice broken and powerful, like a chant of repentance over and over.
“Seto,” Prim cried. “Seto, Seto, Seto.” Her voice repeated that single word, and Fallen’s features turned vicious.
He lashed the whip next to Prim’s head, causing her to jolt at the snap of sound. “I won’t be touching you yet, though. The traitor will be serving you your punishment.”
Fallen held out the whip, turning to face Seto. The guards anchored Seto from attacking their king.
One second, and then it clicked for every single person in the room. Molly’s throat swelled, and she fought back the tears.
“No,” Seto bit out. “No!”
“Unless you would enjoy me ripping out her heart right now,” Fallen mused. “That can be arranged.”
Seto’s eyes fell to Prim crying softly on the floor, curled into a tight ball. Seto curtly nodded, and soon, the guards let him go.
“Seto,” Prim cried, her head rising to meet his hollow gaze.
Seto looked at her once, his chest heaving, and then he looked away and took the whip.
“You wanted to mark the whore without my permission, there, I'll make sure the whore is well and truly marked by you,” Fallen said, smirking at the two of them.
Seto fisted the handle, his fingers flexing, and Molly could see the battle in his movements.
He stood over top of her and bent low, and a spoke to her. “I’m so sorry, my Prim. This kingdom be bloody damned to hell.”
He bowed his head, took a deep breath and with Prim’s soft voice calling to him, he struck.
Molly jolted, jumping further into Tensley’s frame.
Prim bit back a cry, jolting forward.
“Harder!” Fallen screamed at Seto as he knew the demon was holding back from harming his love.
Seto gnashed his teeth, and his eyes grew more bloodshot. He struck again, harder.
Prim cried out, so loud, so heartbreakingly painful. Seto threw his head back, the veins in his neck straining as he screamed at the image of his mate’s beating. At his own hands.
“Harder!” Fallen screamed again.
Seto panted, his features drawn into remorse, into anger and pain.
And he struck again. Harder.
“Never disobey the court,” Fallen said.
Another lash. Tears fell from Seto’s bloodshot eyes.
Another piercing sob-cry-scream of agony. And the chilling hushed call to Seto.
“Seto, Seto, Seto.”
A prayer, a chant.
Seto’s chest heaved, his hands fisting to the point of white. He bit his wavering lip, choking on a silent cry.
“Never disobey the crown.”
Molly cupped her mouth, sucking down a cry at the sound of the flesh tearing, at the whip cracking skin.
At Prim’s red, blotchy back of fresh wounds.
No longer ivory.
No longer unmarked.
Molly felt like she was watching Tensley and herself—the consequences being played out.
It could easily be them.
“And never disobey your god.”
Seto stumbled back, his entire frame shaking, his head still bowed, unable to lift to see the damage he had done to his mate.
Tears streamed his features, and he choked on them, falling to his knees.
Fallen didn’t stop, though. He took the whip from Seto’s hand and struck. His strikes became more violent, more vicious, his hand raising higher, the gleam in his eyes growing darker.
Prim coughed out a sob, her arms giving out.
Seto growled, taking a daring step forward, but the guards held him back.
He thrashed, the way his body moved, and his teeth flashed. Molly knew the beast was taking over him. “Let her go!” he roared, the sound so deeply menacing even Molly shivered. “Prim!”
Fallen didn’t stop, even laughing as the whip shredded her back red with welts and blood.
Soon, Prim was barely screaming—only a mutter, only a whimper escaped her torn lips.
“Tensley,” Molly gasped, gawking at the horrifying scene before her. “He’s going to kill her.”
Tensley didn’t speak but pulled her closer. He knew it too.
Prim was a just a girl. A young girl who fell for a soldier unable to do anything to save her.
She didn’t deserve to die.
If that were her, if that were Molly on the ground, being punished for the pregnancy—
Molly stepped away from the crowd, her scalp tingling, the movement of energy expanding down her spine to her fingertips.
“Molly,” Tensley bit out, reaching for her.
She cast her eyes on Fallen, the ice-burn storming behind her eyes and they glowed.
Fallen paused, his hands limp, the whip lowering to the ground. He stared back at her, a brow raised. He bared his teeth.
A warning to her.
Tensley jerked her back into his chest, and she blinked away the glow, staring at Fallen, motionless.
Fallen cleared his throat and straightened. “Take her to the dungeon,” Fallen commanded, nodding at Prim’s lifeless body on the marble floor. Two guards grabbed Prim’s arms, lifting her limp body.
Blood dripped down her back and onto the white floors, a streak of red left.
Prim’s eyes were closed, and her head rolled back as they dragged her off.
“And him,” Fallen announced, directing his full attention to the grunting Seto. “To the hole. I want him to feel, see, and live in darkness until he returns to the beast he is. And then, I want to pay a visit to that beast, show it how I deal with disobedience.”
Seto growled, his body darting to attack, but the guards held him back and dragged him out of the dining hall.
Fallen clapped three times. “Return to your daily lives. We will feast tonight.”
Murmurs filled the hallway, and Molly watched Fallen move back to his wife, pausing to glance back at Molly.
He grinned.
“Molly,” Tensley whispered, pulling her with him.
She caught the sight of the pool of bright red blood where Prim had laid and gagged, clenching her stomach.
Tensley held her waist, walking fast through the hallways. He muttered soft words to her, but all she could think of was Prim and Seto—of the cries of agony, of Fallen’s cruel, vicious whips, and his crazed stare.
“Tensley,” Molly said, gripping his bicep in the empty hallway. He paused, frowning down at her. “We need to do something. Prim—”
“Is not our concern,” Tensley bit out and grabbed both of her arms, pulling her close. “We need to look out for us. We can’t risk putting us in more danger. They’re watching our every move, Molly. Waiting for us to make a wrong one, so they can eliminate us both.”
Molly blinked back tears. She knew he was right. How easily it could have been Molly on the ground, beaten and punished. Her hand went to her stomach, caressing lightly. “I know.”
The way his brows bent low, his dark eyes filled with a storm, she knew he was deep in thought. “I’m not waiting anymore. I need to speak to the court. About moving the wedding up. I’m not risking it any longer.”
She stared up at him and nodded.
With a soft kiss to her forehead, he left with a stride of determination and a glare of destruction.