This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death, #1)

by Stacia Stark

My generation….none of us knew who we were or where we were from. All of us grew up hunted, without a home.”

“I spent my entire adult life away from my kingdom. Even now, I would die to protect it.”

“Stay alive, Calysian.” His expression turns almost tender. “Would you mourn me, sweetheart?” I level him with a hard stare. “No. If you left me alone in this place, I would curse your name and spit on your corpse.”

He may have given me privacy, but unless he asks me to return the favor, I’m going to enjoy the view.

“Now that’s a pretty sound. Say my name like that again, and I’ll reward you, beautiful woman.”

“I’m the one in control here, sweetheart. I suggest you lie back and enjoy it.”

“I think you’ll come to me when you no longer want to fight this thing between us. And tonight will be just a shadow of the pleasure I’ll give you.”

“Does what help?” “Pushing away anyone you might grow to care about. Does it help you feel less pain when they do leave?”

I was worried about him. And that’s unacceptable.

The woman infuriates me until I want to wrap my hands around her pretty little neck. And she fascinates me until I want to force her to tell me all of her thoughts and secrets.

“You think you can find those memories again? Then you can wander the mortal lands until you do. But don’t worry, brother. We won’t make you wander alone.”

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

If this woman ever learns that it’s thoughts of her I use to block out my own despair, she will laugh and laugh.

“If you think temporary access to my body means you now have the right to determine my actions, you are so very, very wrong,”

Agony erupts in my chest, hot and horrifying. It blazes through my body, until the only sound I can make is a choked moan. I stare uncomprehendingly at the arrow lodged in my chest.

“If I can’t have your life, I’ll gladly take your death. Think of me as you die choking on your own blood.”

WHAT

Pain. I thought I knew what it was. What it meant. I had no idea.

“I have not given you permission to die.”

“I am the dark god. I don’t complete last wishes or answer deathbed pleas. If you want something done, you’ll have to live and see to it yourself.”

I’m living again. Even as I’m dying. The irony isn’t lost on me.

I may be the dark god, but even I have a conscience.

“Live, Madinia. You have much to stay alive for.”

His soul aches. And I’m going to be the one responsible for ensuring it continues to. Because the glimpse I saw of Calpharos was enough for me to know one thing: I will never allow the dark god to fully wake.

She wears her personas like borrowed cloaks, slipping in and out of them as effortlessly as breathing. A scowl here, a smile there. A feigned blush. A calculated threat. By the time she is done, I’m filled with reluctant admiration. And hard as stone.

It’s a strange feeling—knowing we can trust each other with our lives, but not with information.

“I’m going to make them pay for every second of life they stole from you.”

Reaching out one hand, I stroke his cheek, and his eyes immediately turn heavy-lidded. How is it possible that he’s this touch-starved after so many centuries walking this world?

Beautiful woman. Calysian has called me this since we met, and yet he’s never made me feel as if that’s all he can see.

I’ve wanted many things over my lifetime. I wanted Regner dead. I wanted my freedom. I want Vicana and Kyldare to pay for what they’ve done. But my craving for Calysian burns inside me with frightening intensity.

She’s heavy-lidded, her eyes so blue, it’s as if they were formed from crushed sapphires. Her hair is tousled, her skin flushed with sleep, and when she leans forward to press a gentle kiss to my chest, I almost claw through my skin, crack open my ribs, and hand her my beating heart.

For the first time since I met Calysian, I feel truly…alone.

Dread burrows into my stomach. Madinia Farrow is a survivor. But she likes Haldrik. And she won’t see this betrayal coming.

“Of course you couldn’t fall in love with an ordinary man. You couldn’t choose a fae or a hybrid, or a prince. No, you had to go and fall in love with a god.”

“I’ll kill you.” “That will need to wait until I’ve finished saving your life.”

Something dark stirs within me. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll kill them all.

If Madinia Farrow says she’ll do something, she will do it.

Whatever feelings she has—and despite her pretenses, I know she has such feelings—they are for the man who wandered alone for centuries. They’re not for the dark god. And they never will

There are things worse than death. He taught me that.

Both of us know the unspoken rules. We can trust each other with our lives, but no more than that. Not for the first time, I wish things could be different.

“As you die, your last thought will be this: Harming Madinia Farrow was the biggest mistake of your life.”

Perhaps I should show mercy. Perhaps I should at least feel some regret. But I don’t. I feel vindicated. I feel satisfied. I feel content.

“I promised you I would make them pay for every second of life they stole from you. This is just the first. What I will do to that witch will be spoken about for centuries.”

And then it hits me. Calysian chose this place as a gift. It’s a place where we will make final memories together before he takes his grimoire. A gift…and a goodbye.

Besides, even if there was something deeper, it wouldn’t matter. Calysian will always choose his grimoires. And I will always choose to betray him.

A strange sensation washes over me. A sensation that’s not quite dread but close to it. It feels as if I’m at a turning point in my life. Choose one way, and I can go on as I have. Choose the other, and my life will fundamentally change.

“You come to warn me, Eamonn? You, who suggested Calpharos visit the seer who told him who she would be to him?”

WHAT

I catch sight of the bejeweled blade. I’ve carried that blade to her altar every day for two decades. How ironic that it is now to be used to kill me.

A strange longing slides through my veins. A longing for something intangible. Something that might have been.

Eamonn’s eyes meet mine. They’re haunted, shocked. He’s looking at me as if I’m already dead. Pain. Vicious, all-encompassing pain that burns like a fire in my chest.

This woman I worshipped has ended my life. She took any hint of happiness I might have found and ruined it.

I know exactly how hot the flames of vengeance burn. They flicker within me even now. For Vicana. For her witch. And for that bitch goddess who stabbed me in the heart.