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Lord of the Mir that called men to take two wives. A godly man chose his wives in line with the teachings of the Brotherhood, whose towers loomed tall over the capital city of Beldurn. Mirror images of each other, the structures nevertheless served entirely different purposes. The Tower of the Mind was where the Brotherhood worked and studied. The Tower of the Heart was a place for worship and celebrating feast days. The Lord of the Mir called for balance in all things, thus a man’s first spouse should be the wife of the mind, and the second the wife of the heart. And as in the body, mind and
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But as a man of twenty, he was experienced enough now to understand the practical realities of having two wives. Two queens. Two courts. Two beds. Queen Amantha was not mourning Vessa—and his lady mother would never consent to mother the princess.
The brothers of the Tower of the Mind had predicted Princess Given of Sithistra’s birth one year before it occurred. That made her a Child of Prophecy. It was a somewhat rare designation.
Lord Varick was rumored to share King Laurent’s bed.
“Look at that,” he murmured, “you’ve bared your little fangs.”
“Careful, Princess. The monsters on this side of the Rift have a much deeper bite.”
“I gave you an order,” he said, stumbling against the bed’s footboard. His breathing picked up, and a wild light danced in his eyes. His fangs showed between his lips. “That’s how it works, General. I give the orders. You follow them.”
I bared my fangs. “Oh, that’s not at all how it works between us. Maybe I should remind you.” Silver eyes taunted me even as he struggled for breath. “I could have your head for this.” I loosened my grip, my gaze locked on his mouth. “Fuck you,” I muttered, then crashed my lips to his.
By his own admission, few in Nor Doru knew the truth about his father. It was almost certain Rolund didn’t know. But Laurent had told me. Which meant he had no intention of letting me go home. Whatever his plans for me, I would never see Sithistra again.
Gods, she was lovely. I couldn’t resist touching her. I untied her cloak and draped it over my arm. “I do. But I don’t need spies to tell me of your brother’s struggles. No matter how powerful he is, every king feels the pressure to sire an heir.” I tucked a pale strand of hair behind her era. “My Lady of Lar Satha.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean, Princess.” I smiled. “Like when I promised to punish you when you use my title instead of my name, I definitely meant that.” The tiniest hint of fear sparked in her eyes. “Laurent—” “Wed me.”
Gods, she was cute. And so easy to rile. I wanted to fuck her while she was angry and hissing like a cat. But I also wanted her soft and purring. Mostly, I just wanted her. Maybe it was time to make that clear. After all, I was running out of time.
“Trust me, you’ll enjoy being a slave in my bed.”
The question caught me off guard. Not because she expected an answer, but because she already knew it. Her deep blue eyes—which normally lent her an air of innocence—were assessing. Calculating. She was politically savvy enough to know I’d already decided to wed her, and that my asking for her hand was merely a courtesy. It only made me more determined to have her.
“You want to watch Varick fuck me?” I pressed my thumb harder, and she made a sound that bordered on a squeal. “Or maybe you want me to fuck you while he fucks my ass. We could do that, you know. We could do a lot of things, the three of us. Just imagine it, two men in bed with you. Two sets of lips on this gorgeous body, on your nipples and your sweet, juicy pussy. Two cocks filling you. Stretching you. Making you come.”
“Good girl, Princess, making all this nectar for your king. Open wider, sweetheart.”
When I made her mine for good, it wasn’t going to be in a borrowed bed in some tumbledown tower house. I had a reputation for irreverence when it came to royal traditions. It was partly true. Maybe mostly true.
Soon he was yelling, his shouts and curses almost as loud as the smacks I delivered to his ass and thighs. He was a mouthy fucker in bed, and he gave me an earful, bitching and yelping and threatening retribution. I spanked his balls a few times, which shut him up. His skin turned pink, then red. His buttocks trembled and his grunts grew hoarse. Finally, he growled and craned his neck, trying to catch my eye. “Fuck you, you’ve made your point.” He flung a hand back, trying to cover his ass.
“Powerful. And what good is power if you don’t use it?” His bushy white brows pulled low over his eyes. “This isn’t what we discussed. What we planned. We need her blood, yes, but not for this. She’s to be at your side if and when Nor Doru invades the South. And she and Varick will produce a—” “That won’t be necessary if I can restore the Deepnight.” I nodded toward the altar. “And I mean to try. Tonight.” His voice took on the tone he used when he was warming up for a lecture. “You reach too high, boy, toying with power you don’t understand.”
Given of Sithistra was put into your path, my lord. When she stepped into Nor Doru, yours was the first face she saw. Magic can be unpredictable, but sometimes it doesn’t miss.”
“And what of Laurent? What does magic say about him?” Jordan’s smile was as soft as the flower tucked in my hand. “Just because you can’t see blooms like that in the Wastes doesn’t mean they’re not real.” “I’m a soldier, Jordan. Symbolism is wasted on me.” His dimple peeked out. “I’m not so sure about that, my lord. But let me put it this way. I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for here in the north. But I have a feeling it’s waiting for you in the south.”
“Given of Sithistra, the last elven-born of Nor Doru, will conceive a child with another elven-born. Bound in the blood of old Eldenvalla, that child must perish in the Rift and then reemerge to save the Deepnight from destruction.” Blood rushed in my ears. Whose child must perish in the fucking Rift? “Who is the other elven-born?” I asked. But I already knew. “You.”
“Your Grace! There’s been an attack. Many are dead. You have to come with me.” As he finished, three more bloodied knights burst from the trees. All had their swords drawn. “Save the king!” one bellowed, hurtling toward Laurent. “They’re coming!” The thunder of hooves and the snapping of branches grew louder. The fog covered everything. Shadows rushed the clearing from all sides. “No!” Laurent yelled. Through a gap in the fog, I saw him grapple with a knight who was trying to pull him onto a horse. “I won’t leave Varick!”
Slowly, the black-haired elf turned his head toward me. Behind him, the other elves did the same. Their heads swiveled in perfect unison, and dozens of glowing eyes latched onto me. The black-haired elf smiled. “Given. Now is a good time to run.”
But as the horse drew near, I saw that it carried a rider. A man sat in the saddle, his tall form blotting out the light behind him. He was human, his broad chest covered by an armored breastplate embossed with a mountain inside a laurel wreath. In some dim corner of my mind, I noted that he was handsome. Dark eyes met mine as he leaned down and extended a gloved hand. “Quickly. I can’t hold them for long.” My heart pounded like a drum. “I’m with someone,” I gasped. “I can’t leave him behind.” The dark-eyed man shook his head. “If he was behind you, he’s already dead.”
“We’re dancing around the point. Why train her at all if you’re going to make her a prisoner?”
The blond elf’s face returned to its former state. “You come for Varick of Lar Keiren?” He shook his head. “No, little sister. You come here with stolen power.” Terror clutched me in sharp claws, but I didn’t miss his words. “I’m no kin to you, demon.” Rhys’s features smoothed over his face, and when he spoke, Rhys’s brogue colored his tone. “Aye, and more than you know.” The laughter echoed in my ear again. The blond’s face shifted back. His fist flew. Darkness swallowed me.
“I’m going outside to look. If anyone besides me comes through this door, hit them in the head with the frying pan and run. Don’t look back. Understand?” Her eyes darted to the corner. “Shouldn’t I use the sword?” she asked, her voice a thread of sound. I shook my head. “An experienced fighter will expect a sword and know how to defend against it. No one expects a frying pan.”
shameful, Your Grace, it’s proof that magic chose well when it placed you at the center of the prophecy. You are exactly who you’re supposed to be. Human and vampire. Elven and demon. You are all of Ter Isir. Who better to save the realm than someone who embodies every corner of it?”
Midian’s words snaked through my head like poison. “How does it feel knowing the men in your life could never want you like they want each other?” The demon king was a liar, but even the worst liars told the truth sometimes.
I knew what I’d gotten myself into when I wed Laurent. I was never going to come between him and Varick, and I didn’t want to. But seeing them reunited so swiftly after Eldenvalla was a shock I hadn’t prepared for. I’d been stupid not to. Laurent and Varick had been together for two decades. What was that compared to a handful of stolen hours in a sod hut? It was nothing. Laurent proved it when he stuck me in one tent and summoned Varick to another.
