A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

Boaz grimaces at the name. He hates Lord Adley more than I do. But not as much as Zander does, I’m sure. How much my brother must regret not having that lord executed as his first order of business. “Of course. If that is all?”

“Yes.” The dull headache from earlier has traveled between my eyes where it sits, a constant irritant.

He’s halfway to the door when I blurt, “Wait.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Have Sabrina sent to my chambers.” I’m in need of some respite in my life, even if only for a few short hours.



“Good evening, Your Highness.”

I lounge in a wing chair, watching my tributary saunter in. The fireplace blazes next to me, chasing away the dampness that clings to the air from the falling rain. “Sabrina, thank you for coming.”

“When you call, I come.” A coy smile curves her lips at the double meaning, earning my chuckle.

She always lightens my mood within moments of arrival, before I’ve even laid a hand on her. My tributary before Sabrina—Genevieve, whose blood was tainted the night of Ybaris’s attack—was also pleasant to look at and perfectly willing, but not as responsive as this one.

I sense Sabrina’s pulse racing, and it stirs my growing need on more than one front. The first time I was with her, I mistook her reaction for nervousness, until she pushed her gauzy white sleep dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I realized then that it was excitement I was reading. Later, she admitted that it was the first time she had ever enjoyed her role as tributary. And I, in turn, enjoy her as much as any king can enjoy a transactional relationship with a mortal servant, while ignoring her aspirations. I sense them in all tributaries when they slink into my bed. Those delusions that they will be different from all those before them, that they will be special enough to win over my royal immortal heart, that I’ll break all the rules and choose only them.

But none of them have any clue what it means to be queen of Islor.

The guard who escorted her stops beside her, and Sabrina’s body tenses.

I groan. “Must we do this every time?”

“To ensure her blood is pure, Your Highness, yes,” he answers with forced patience. We go through this same song and dance every time Sabrina comes to my rooms.

I wave him off. “But Sabrina would never harm me.”

She shakes her head. “Never, Your Highness.”

The guard’s mouth twitches. “Captain Boaz says to remind His Highness that her blood can be tainted without her knowledge and that he’ll execute me if I don’t perform my duty.”

“We wouldn’t want you executed.” Maybe I should stop being a prick about it. Boaz can be overenthusiastic at times. He will put a blade through this guard for disobeying an order, and he won’t wait to hear my thoughts on the matter. “Be quick about it, though, if you will.” I’m already half undressed, several buttons of my tunic unfastened, my weapons cast aside.

My appetites gnawing.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Sabrina shifts her lengthy blond hair off to one side, but her smile is gone. No one else is permitted to feed off her now that she is mine, and she hates this part, she’s admitted as much. But she tips her head to the side, exposing her long, delicate neck.

“It’ll only take a few seconds, and then I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I rake my gaze over her curves.

The guard opens his mouth to call two needlelike fangs to emerge. He leans in and sinks them into her flesh, earning her wince.

My own teeth descend in anticipation of that taste.

And then the guard drops, his bloodcurdling scream ripping through the calm.





CHAPTER NINE




GRACEN


Sleep is welcoming me into its warm embrace when a commotion outside our door yanks me from it. Voices, so many voices. Deep ones, barking orders. Fists, pounding. Somewhere in the mix, I’m sure I hear Corrin.

A candle burns within its holder in our windowless bedchamber, granting just enough light for me to find my way around should Suri need me in the night. Beside me, Mika’s and Lilou’s breathing remains slow and deep. Not for long, if this keeps up.

With my heart pounding in my throat, I slide out from under the blanket and tiptoe to the door to see if I can glean what’s going on. It doesn’t sound like anything good. Fates, it can’t be another uprising, can it?

I’ve just pressed my ear against the door when a fist bangs against the other side, causing me to jump back, a pained rattle in my head. “Open this door now!” an angry male voice booms. It can only be a guard.

“She has young children asleep in there!” I hear Corrin scolding. “Can you not come back in the morning?”

He ignores her pleas, his fist pounding against my door again. “Open the door now, king’s orders!”

“Mama, what’s happening?” Mika sits up, his eyes still half-closed from sleep. Beside him, Lilou stirs.

“I’m not sure, but don’t worry.” At least Corrin is there. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to us.

A whimper sounds from the crib.

“Open this door now!”

“Yes! Just a moment!” My hands tremble as I fumble with the latch that secures it, and then I rush away.

Two guards in full armor barge in, their size eating up our meager room.

“You take that side, I’ll take this one,” the one says to the other, each carrying a lantern. “Everyone out of their beds now! Stand over there,” he barks, pointing to a far corner.

“Children, come.” Corrin ushers them over. They scamper to her side, Lilou’s thumb in her mouth to soothe herself as she stumbles.

I collect Suri from her cradle and calm her as the two guards toss sheets and blankets, overturn our pallet, and rifle through our belongings.

Searching for something.

“What has happened?” I whisper, rocking my baby.

Corrin smooths her palm over Suri’s forehead. “They did not say, but if I had to guess, someone in the castle has been poisoned.”

“Dear fates.” There hasn’t been a case within these walls since the royal repast. “Please tell me it was not the king.”

“It’s not likely. The captain would insist on a tester.” But worry mars her face.

The guards shift their focus to stones in the wall, exploring for any loose ones that may prove good hiding spots.

“Search them all! Search for secret pockets!” a deep voice demands from the hallway and heavy footfalls march past. I recognize that voice—it’s the captain of the king’s guard, a stone-faced Islorian who never smiles. He’s known to be harsh.

The two guards abandon the loose stones and charge for our corner, each yanking one of my children away.

Lilou sobs as one rifles through her night clothes and paws at her tiny limbs with rough hands. Mika’s bottom lip wobbles but otherwise, he remains quiet as he is thoroughly searched.

My anger flares, but I bite my tongue. I have yet to meet a gentle soldier when they’re following orders, or a sympathetic one when they’re questioned.

“They’re children,” Corrin scolds, but she doesn’t move. She knows her place too.

“Search the baby,” the one who seems in charge commands, unfazed.

The other casts Lilou aside and reaches for Suri.

I flinch on instinct, turning away from him.