A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies, #4)

by Stacia Stark

“I don’t know what you did,” I ground out. “But you don’t get to leave me here without you. You will fucking come back to me, or I will follow you and drag you back myself.”

“That’s the Bloodthirsty Prince attempting to save his mate,” someone else whispered. “I suggest you be very, very quiet.”

“I need to see my sister,” Tibris said. “And…I need to tell her about you. About us.”

“I didn’t want to serve you,” Blynth said suddenly. Next to me, Lorian tensed, and it was my turn to squeeze his hand. “When I learned you were alive,” the general continued. “I asked myself what you could possibly have to offer—a village girl who knew nothing of our history.”

truly bring our people home…I’ll happily kneel to you for the rest of my life.”

“Listen to me, wildcat. Our story doesn’t end when this life does. You’ll be mine in the next life––and the life after that. If you hadn’t wielded time, I would have waited as long as it took to see you again.”

“Perhaps I’m not being clear. I want you to sit on my face until all I can taste, all I can smell, all I can feel is you. Now.” “Who put you in charge?” I muttered, slowly lowering my hips. “Arrogant—ohh…”

“And you fell in love.” “Love?” He raised one eyebrow. “At the time, I thought it was love. Now, I know it was nothing more than infatuation. Seeing the way you and Lorian are together… it proves I didn’t have anything real with her.” My chest clenched. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. Your love gives me hope, darlin’. There’s something so pure about it—even when you both want to strangle each other.”

grabbed Galon’s arm. “I need you to—” “I know. If you fall or if it looks like there is no hope left, I will get her out. I promise.”

“Rekja knows this city will fall,” I said. “But while he may think he understands what that means, it will be very, very different when it actually happens.” Rythos nodded. “This is his first test as a king—not yet crowned. And unlike his father, he truly cares for his people. He will likely attempt to stay. If he dies, there is currently no successor to the Gromalian throne.”

And then Marth screamed Rythos’s name.

“To your right!” a voice roared, echoing through my head until I spun. A voice that made my heart leap into my throat. A voice I’d thought I would never hear again.

But Marth was too slow to meet the knife still aimed toward Rythos with his own blade. So he met it with his body.

“I’m fine, Prisca.” His words were carefully neutral. He didn’t snap or snarl or sneer. But I flinched all the same. Because he was lying to me.

and my gaze slammed into Galon’s. His eyes were dark with concern. Concern and fear.

“There’s something else,” Lorian said. Stepping forward, he cupped my chin, gazing down at me. “I want to marry you.”

“If you’d prefer to wait until we’re in our kingdom, we can,” he said. “But everyone you love will soon be gathered here. They’ll all be together for the last time— likely until this war is over.” My mouth had gone dry at the thought. He was right. “You want to make sure everyone can attend.” Because there was a very real chance that we might lose more people we loved.

“We have approximately seventeen thousand fae and hybrids in the hybrid camp, ready to fight,” Blynth said, drawing me from my grim thoughts. “More are joining every day.”

He nodded at whatever he saw on my face. “We will march with you to war. But I can only spare thirty thousand soldiers.”

Dude even your lowest is higher than anyone else

“I made a deal with someone for the location of the weapon. After years of keeping the location from me, he finally told me—on his deathbed. What he failed to mention was that only someone pure of heart can wield it.”

“Don’t tell Prisca.” That caught her attention. Daharak’s brow lifted, her gaze settling on my face. “Why?” “Because the idiot will do something stupid like attempt to sacrifice herself for the good of everyone else, and Lorian will finally lose control and lock her away somewhere. I don’t want to have to deal with the dramatics.”

“Heed my words, Madinia Farrow, for I have a tiny drop of my mother’s sight. If you refuse to open your heart to those who would lay down their lives for you, you will not arrive on the eastern continent with just a purse full of coin. You will also carry with you a heart full of regret. And that heart will be much, much heavier than any coin you can imagine.”

“You think feelings are a weakness. And sometimes, they are. Sometimes, those feelings eat at everything you thought you were. But a life refusing to feel, to love? That is worse than a weakness. That is a travesty. To refuse to feel the full range of emotions, to deny yourself joy in an effort to protect yourself from the loss? I may not know much—may have no true glimpse of the future the way my mother does—but I know without a doubt that one day, the tiny moments of joy you keep turning your back on? They’re the moments that will keep you alive.”

“What did they do?” “You said pieces of yourself were…disintegrating.” I nodded, and she sucked in a rasping breath. “You were losing your soul, Prisca. Your mother and grandmother gave you enough of their own to keep you alive.”

Two other dresses hung close by, with flower crowns waiting on the vanity. Once, long ago, Prisca and I had planned our weddings. I’d told her I would wear whatever she liked, so long as she crowned me with flowers.

“I’m not sorry that you care, Madinia. Because when someone like you takes an interest…worlds change.”

My heart clenched. He was picturing Cavis next to him. And I watched as his eyes gleamed with a flicker of amusement––as if his dead friend had made some pithy remark.

“I vow to be the roots that ground you, the branches that help you reach for your dreams, and the shelter that forever keeps you safe. I will love you in every life.”

Prisca was my wife. She was also my mate. She was my everything.

“Are you terrifying our guests during our wedding feast?” I gave her my most charming smile. “I missed you.” “I was sitting right next to you.” “You were looking at other people.”

“You say that now. Titles aren’t meaningless, Lorian.” I shrugged. “I was a fae prince, and now I’m Prisca’s mate and husband. I know which titles mean more to me. Which titles I wear with pride and will until the day I die. Besides, she has a title of her own.” “Her title as the hybrid heir?” “No.” I bared my teeth. “Mine.”

You won’t experience it for a very, very long time.” That seemed unlikely, given the current state of this continent. I raised one eyebrow. “And why is that?” “Prisca needs you.” He gave me a teasing grin, and I marveled at the sight of it. Just months ago, I would have laughed at the idea of seeing such a happy, relaxed expression on his face. “Besides, I quite like the thought of having a sister,” he mused. “That means you will live a long, happy life.”

“Is this a pity dance?” “Yes. Herne isn’t here. Take pity on me.”

Tibris shifted us so we could both watch Prisca laughing up at Lorian as he snatched her hand. “Gods, I hope they get a future,” he said. “I hope we all do.”

“And why would you want to see me?” Prisca asked the woman, her expression as cold as I’d ever seen it. Stillcrest took a step closer. And then Marth was there. “Careful,” he snarled.

“Why did you allow me to come with you?” His lips tightened. “Because I want you where I can see you. Alive.”

“I was furious. I looked up, and you had disappeared, reappearing near the top of the stairs. It was then that I realized that you could leave me at any time. If you wanted to escape me, you could.”

I’d almost drifted off when he kissed my head. “I heard Cavis today. I saw him too.”

“If I am to be haunted by the people I have killed, so be it. But I didn’t kill Cavis. And seeing him on my wedding day…hearing him…it was a gift, Prisca.” My throat swelled. “What did he say?” I whispered. “He said you looked beautiful. And that I had better treat you well.”

“You don’t think we should sneak into Zathrian’s camp at all,” I said, and my hands began to shake. “No,” Lorian said gently, taking both my hands in his. “We’re going to walk in.”

“It’s a good thing Rythos isn’t here to see this. He’d befriend the bitches and create chaos like they’d never seen. On second thought…it’s a shame he couldn’t attend this little meeting.”

Eadric took one look at Lorian and raised his hand, stabbing his finger toward him. “Lies,” he hissed. Zathrian’s eyes met mine. And he grinned.

“Do you know anyone pure of heart?” I asked him. Surprise flashed across his face. “What exactly does that mean?” “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Probably someone who doesn’t enjoy killing bad people.” “You know,” he said, running his hand over his face, “I don’t think I do. That probably says a lot about the people I surround myself with.”

“You seem…nice. Occasionally.” He just shook his head at me. “Not nice enough for that.”

“I’ve never seen that expression on your face before,” Rythos said. I instantly controlled my features. “What expression?” He flashed his teeth in a brief smile. “Something like awe. Or wonder.”

“I didn’t want to return here,” he said. “It holds mostly bad memories for me. So thank you for allowing me to see it through your eyes.”

“Out,” Verdion snarled. “I don’t think so.” Rythos crossed his arms. “Where is Brevan?” “Your brother is away. He will return later today.” “And was he away for the summit as well?”

“I heard what happened with those wards,” Verdion said quietly. “I know that hybrid bitch interfered.” “That hybrid bitch is already twice the ruler you’ll ever be,” I snapped.

Horror flickered across his face as he watched his council vote unanimously for the Arslan to join the war.

Within a moment, Rythos had disappeared through another door, and I stood in the entryway, heart pounding. Retching sounded. It went on and on as Rythos vomited, the sound broken only by what sounded like rough sobs.