“There is more.” I didn’t think I could have kept the disgust out of my voice if I had tried. When Edmund made no move to look at me, I continued, my heart rate accelerating in both disgust and anticipation. “My brother has bonded himself to the brat. She wears the délka vedení královsk.”
He froze at the admission, his eyes unwavering from in front of us, before he began to laugh. The sound was deep and rich as it echoed through the barren wasteland. The servants who cowered around him backed away slowly as the depth of his anger rippled in a sound that should have been joyful.
The marriage of his eldest son.
However, his joy was full of wicked manipulation.
Anticipation of what was to come swelled through me.
“So he has chosen his queen. I would like to see how long he plans on keeping her around.”
He spun to face me, more of his hair coming loose from the tight hairstyle he always kept, the curls falling over his eyes in such a way that he only looked more mad, as if the insanity he kept within himself was about to explode.
I met his gaze head on, the pain of the controlling poisoning lessening somewhat as my body tensed in expectation.
“I will forgive this … travesty … that you have inflicted on us, Ovailia. But we must play our pawns in a much wider net if we wish to win, yes?”
“Yes, Father.”
He smiled at my assent, the charcoal beneath his shoes crunching with each step as he approached me, the wicked creature he held in his hands growling with a feral sound that twisted through me. It was the sound of pain and eagerness, as if he knew what was coming.
A flinch shook my torso at the realization, the need to plea for commiseration strong.
I wouldn’t let my weakness show, though—not to him, not to anyone.
“We will continue with the attack on Prague as planned.” His voice was hard as it carried around us, the cowering peasants slowly righting themselves as they prepared for his instruction. “Send out word to begin closing off the city. I don’t want any mortal coming in or out. Cut off their power, their water, and shield them.”
One by one, the cowering Trpaslíks nodded in understanding, their bodies bowed as they ran away from their master across the charred earth to do his bidding.
Fear I had felt only moments ago faded into an exhilarating anticipation.
“Are you sure it is wise?” I asked cautiously, expecting the scold that would come from my impertinence. “Ilyan still lives. Joclyn is healthy and well from what I could tell. Everything could be for naught.”
“Or I can destroy them as I do all others. Over a million of my little pets descending on the city, and in the middle are Ilyan and his broken subjects.” He laughed at the image, his joy feeling as infectious as the thunder that clapped above us, the sound deep and low as if the earth was screaming at what had been decided, at what was going to happen.
There was no way Ilyan could stop it. There was no way he could survive it. He would be bitten like all the others, and if he was … He would become little more than Edmund’s puppet at that point, just like everyone else the nasty little creatures would infect. Edmund’s army, all of the magic under his control. It was only days away.
Finally, the golden boy was right where he was meant to be.
I couldn’t stop the smile.
“Are you sure it will work? We don’t even know if that is where they are going.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “Sain has infected the sight, and Ilyan will do anything to protect that pathetic city he loves so much. He doesn’t want me to control Imdalind, child. I know that is where he is going.”
“Right into your hands.”
My father moved so close I could see the blood vessels in his eyes, the veins much darker than they should be, the lines casting a shadow over his face as he leaned into me. His thick fingers lifted my chin up, holding me in place, holding my gaze as he sneered.
“Right into the end,” he whispered, his breath moving over my face, and I tensed. “It’s time to show the mortals who really owns the world. To show them how safe they really are. All the magic in the world belongs to me. I was the first to bare the mark of the Chosen Child. I saved the world from fire. The wells of Imdalind chose me to create the magic of the world into something more, and I am going to make sure it stays that way.” He smiled as he stepped away, continuing to stroke the monster he held in his hands, his eyes scanning over the barren wasteland as if he was looking for something in particular.
“We may have failed today, but everything is working to our favor.” His voice was like honey, and I tensed for what was coming. “But that means we have to work harder. We cannot fail a second time. If we do, only death will await those who fail me.”
“Yes, Father.”