The slave and the queen have little in common. When they talk, it is often about the king, long conversations to help themselves cope with his behavior and moods. Most often, though, they do not talk at all, instead using their meager time together to retrace ugly touches with tender ones, replace pain with pleasure, like plants desperate for water.
One cannot underestimate the power of such a thing. It is enough to build a connection that deceptively resembles love.
And who is to say it isn’t? It feels like love. It tastes like love. It consumes him like love.
Perhaps these two people would not have found any reason to be with each other in any other world.
But in this one, they became each other’s only reason to live.
The slave quickly learned that it was far harder to care about something than it was to care about nothing. For the first decades of his imprisonment, he curated his apathy like an art. Now, in a matter of weeks, it shatters. Every strike hurts more because of the way she reacts to it. Every debasement is more shameful because she witnesses it. Every act of violence against her sends him closer to a line he knows he will not be able to return from—no matter how she begs him for restraint.
Who wins? she asks him, tears in her eyes. Who wins if he kills you?
So the years pass, and the slave does not fight.
But that kind of hatred never fades. It just festers. For years, decades. It consumes his heart like a fungus, until he can no longer remember a life before it.
The king grows more paranoid, more desperate for power, as rumblings of rebellion build in the distance. The Kejari approaches, an open door for all the king’s greatest enemies. As the world beyond his walls spirals further from his control, his desire to control the world within them grows more merciless. He requires constant distraction. Constant reminders of his own power.
The fungus grows.
The idea starts as a little knot of rot buried deep within. It spreads so quickly that even the slave cannot tell when it becomes more than a fantasy—only that one day, it is no longer a possibility, but an inevitability.
The slave starts paying attention to the whispers of the city. He learns of a promising Hiaj warrior, a man who makes no secret of his brutal commitment to his brutal intentions.
The first trial of the Kejari, the slave is allowed to attend alongside the king.
He sits behind the queen and watches her adjust her hair to hide the bruises around her throat.
He watches the bloody colosseum below as the blond vampire hacks apart his enemies with the same ferocity he would use to hack apart the world and take what he wants from it.
He watches the king, and the fear he tries to pretend does not exist.
And the slave, at last, sees an opportunity.
The kingdom is already drenched in oil.
He is more than willing to provide a match.
43
ORAYA
I had no idea where we were going.
It was impossible to fly well with Raihn’s weight dragging me down, even though he did try—unsuccessfully—to help. But that was probably for the better. We dropped low quickly, hiding between the buildings of Sivrinaj while I frantically tried to keep us airborne. I managed to get us to the edge of the human districts before we crashed down on cobblestone streets.
Raihn, despite his injuries, somehow managed to get up quickly, limping along the walls of crumbling brick buildings. As soon as I got to my feet, I tucked myself under his arm to help support him.
I squinted up at the brightening, cloudless sky above.
“We need to get you inside,” I said. “Fast.”
I looked around, searching for an empty building to take shelter in, but Raihn kept dragging us forward, jaw clenched.
“I know where we’re going,” he said.
“Your apartment? You’ll never make it. We’ll find—”
“We’re going,” he snapped.
I was ready to argue with him again, but he shot me a look—stony, determined—that made my mouth close.
In these hazy minutes between night and dawn, it was quiet on both sides of Sivrinaj—vampire and human. But soon, I knew, we would attract attention in the human districts under a rising sun. We made it a block and a half before I spotted the first set of eyes peering through a bedroom window, hidden hastily when I met them.
“People will see you,” I muttered. “We have to find somewhere faster.”
“No.” The word came between clenched teeth. Raihn was moving slower, leaning heavily on the walls—and clinging, with limited success, to the shadows they cast—but he still dragged himself forward. “We’re close. One more block.”
Mother, I didn’t know if we would make it that far.
It felt like an age later that the building came into view, and I felt his breath of relief at the sight. But by then, dark burns marked his cheekbone on one side, slowly spreading across his face.
His steps were so, so slow. I was caving beneath his weight. The sun was rising higher.
“You’re close,” I said quietly. “A little farther.”
We were so fucking close.
And then, mere feet away from the door, he collapsed.
I dropped to my knees beside him, dragging him as far into the shade of the buildings as I could. Every inch was difficult—he was heavy, and I was hurt.
“Get up,” I said, trying and failing to hide how scared I was. “Get up, Raihn. We’re so close.”
He grunted and tried to stand. Failed, falling back against the wall.
What was I going to do? I couldn’t carry him. The sun encroached quickly. I tried to shove him as far into the shade as his hulking body could fit.
A door opened and closed, and my hands went to my sword—
I looked up to see a large, balding man standing over us.
He looked familiar, though at first, I didn’t recognize him. Then it hit me: the man from the apartment building. The one who was always asleep at the desk.
My mouth opened, but I didn’t know what to say—whether to snarl at him to stay away or beg him for help. No disguises today. We were so obviously vampires. So obviously helpless.
A million possibilities ran through my mind as to what a human would do when faced with two stranded predators.
The man spoke before I could. “I’m no fucking fool. I know who you are.”
He approached, then paused when I visibly flinched away, positioning myself between him and Raihn.
His eyes were... kinder than I’d expected. “You got nothing to be afraid of. Neither of you.”
He nudged past me, knelt down, and grabbed Raihn’s left arm. “You take the right,” he said.
He was helping us.
Goddess, he was actually helping us.
I did as he said, supporting Raihn’s right side. Between the two of us, and Raihn using the last of his strength to assist us, we got him into the apartment building. The keeper kicked the door shut behind us, yanking the curtains closed with his free hand.
The moment the sun was gone, Raihn let out a sigh of relief.
“Better,” he managed. “Much better.”
“Sh,” I said. I didn’t want him wasting his energy on words when there was still a staircase to tackle.
But without the sun, he immediately had more strength, mostly able to get himself up the stairs, even if he had to lean on us for support. When we made it into the apartment, he immediately sank onto the bed.
The human man stood in the doorway, arms crossed.