Maybe he was that stupid. “Yes.”
He struck out pacing again, which was out of character. Fydor usually remained unreadable and still. Right now, he was agitated to the point of being twitchy. Slayers were trained from birth to be calm in the face of adversity or danger to promote concentration and effectiveness. If his physical life were an accurate indication, his uncle was highly ineffective right now. Good.
“Get out,” Fydor shouted at the bear shifter guard lurking in the doorway.
The huge hulk of a man lumbered away from the cell, leaving the door open behind him.
His uncle came within inches of him. So close, Nik could smell the elven elixir on his breath. Fydor had been hooked on it since the death of Ivan Itzov. A sickening churn rolled through his gut. This was his fault. He had been so selfish and consumed with revenge, he’d allowed this weak-minded, drug-addicted sadist of a man to destroy everything his father had built. He had to stop him. Elena had changed everything. He saw clearly now. His duty was here, to his people. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late.
“I will need you to prove yourself before I allow you any kind of freedom again,” his uncle said, still right up in his face.
“Of course.” He would say whatever it took to get out of these cuffs so he could kill the bastard.
“You will lead the first massacre.”
Fuck. “What massacre?”
“The only way to let the humans know that fighting us is futile is to make a bold opening statement when we lift the Veil. I have an army ready to invade. Until that happens, you will remain captive.”
No fucking way was he going to let that happen. “When?”
“When I’m given the command.” His face paled when he realized his slip.
Finally, a foothold. “Who commands you?”
Fydor stormed to the other side of the cell. “No one! No one commands me.”
Whether it was the drug in his system or fear, something had his uncle rattled. Nikolai just needed to find out how to exploit it. Only one person could hold that kind of power over the Slayer king.
“The sorcerer Borya,” Nikolai said.
Fydor stopped pacing and closed his eyes.
“Borya holds your strings and uses you like a puppet.”
“No one uses me!” he shouted. “I am the king!”
If only he were not chained to the wall. With his uncle this agitated and out of control, Nikolai knew that even injured, he could take him down with his bare hands. “You are nothing but his tool. A pawn in his game.”
Fydor pulled a vial of purple liquid out of his pocket, uncapped it, and drained the contents into his mouth. Never looking at Nikolai, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. After a few moments, his shaking subsided and he opened his eyes. “I answer to no one.” He dashed the vial on the stone floor like a spoiled child. “My offer no longer stands. You will be executed at midnight tomorrow.”
“You’d better get permission first,” Nikolai shouted at his back before the door slammed shut.
Fuck. Not good. Not good at all.
Elena pulled the cloak tighter around her as she descended the stairs to the dungeon. The guard at the top had been no problem at all. One zap from her palms and he was out cold.
As she neared the bottom of the narrow, uneven stairs, gold candlelight flickered across the pitted bricks of the wall and floor, making them appear to move like scales of a slithering snake. She stopped and closed her eyes, hoping for a vision of how Aleksandra was faring, but received nothing. She ran her fingers around the short sword strapped to her thigh and took a deep breath. She’d only need it if she ran out of electrical energy or if she had to really kill someone…or something. She hoped it didn’t come to that.
“Who goes there?” a man’s voice called.
Rounding the corner, she readied herself, allowing charge to build in her hands. The man looked up from where he sat behind a table and scanned her head to toe, then gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Nobody’s allowed to see the leach. Take your fantasies elsewhere.”
She simply stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant. His dark hair and gold eyes indicated he was a Slayer, but she didn’t see a sword. He wore a dark blue military outfit of some kind.
He shook his head. “Oh, yeah. Play dumb. We get girls down here all the time wantin’ a look at him. It’s not permitted. Off with ya. Shoo.”
“She’s with me,” Aleksandra said from behind Elena’s shoulder, nearly causing her to launch out of her skin.
The guard stood, removed his cap, and bowed. “Lady Aleksandra. I apologize.”
She was wearing a long, hooded cape that obscured her face, so he must have recognized her voice.
“No apology necessary. You were doing your job, Claude.” She ran her finger from his throat to his waist. “Very well, I might add. Please unlock the door.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead. “I…I… I’m sorry, Lady Aleksandra. Nobody goes in without a pass, not even the royal family.”