Page 136 of Merciless Is My Crown

Then the Shadow King’s eyes widened in fear, all the color draining from his face. And I knew exactly what he saw.

Anaria’s magic hit the shield a second later, splintering through Serpens’s power like the barrier wasn’t even there, a star-drenched ball of pure power striking him full in the chest. But not to kill.

To incapacitate.

Because the king’s death blow was mine.

Mine for what I’d endured. Mine for what I’d lost. And mine because this fucker had to die in order for the world to thrive. Otherwise, he’d consume this world and everything in it like his brother had.

And I would not allow Anaria to have his filthy blood on her hands.

I was her blade. I was her vengeance.

I would take this life as I’d taken Carex’s.

Dealing out death had been my calling my entire life. It was no surprise I was Gattica, the God of Death. If Anaria was life, then I was her antithesis, and I would become the darkness for her.

So she could always remain in the light.

Two slices through his wrists sent those heavy, cruel hands thumping to the floor as he collapsed in his throne.

The knife slipped between his ribs, so smooth I didn’t know I’d struck true until dark heart-blood coated my hand, the king’s eyes flaring in understanding.

“You will never rule this realm,” he hissed through a gurgle of blood. “You will never sit on this throne.”

I twisted the knife in deeper, his body jerking. “It’s a damn good thing I want no part of thrones or crowns. As far as I’m concerned, both can rot, right along with you.”

For all his blustering, Serpens went to his grave like any other man, his blood rushing out of him too fast for his heart to keep up with. I savored every beautiful second of his death before I heaved his body to the floor.

“Rot in the Pit, motherfucker.” I cleaned my knife—Lyrae’s knife—off on the king’s finely embroidered waistcoat before handing the blade back to Lyrae. When she reached for it, I yanked it out of her reach.

“Try not to stick this in my back, will you?”

“Oh, I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

We were all on our feet and out of those fucking shackles, and the throne room was half empty except for a few dazed, frozen courtiers in front splashed with the king’s blood. I crunched across a floor of broken glass toward Anaria. My thundering heart didn’t quiet until I’d buried my face in her hair and inhaled a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” I murmured, running my hands over her before pulling back to inspect the bruise beneath her eye, a blaze of fury heating my blood.

Then I knelt before her and lifted the hem of her gown, fear turning to icy fury when I saw her ruined knees, split and bruised. One gentle wave of magic had the wounds mending, the dark bruises fading.

“I’m okay. I didn’t think Tristan was going to set off that explosion in time.” She blew out a shaky breath, her fingers stroking through my hair. I wondered what we must look like to the onlookers, a queen and her most loyal knight.

“But we’re all alive. The plan worked.” She spoke like she was trying to convince herself, her gaze sliding to where Lyrae was crouched, staring at Crux with loathing written all over her face. I half expected her to stab him again, to make sure he was dead.

“I can’t believe our plan worked, Raz.”

“All because of you.” I watched her scrub her pale face with her hands, watched the fear turn to courage as she remade herself into the queen these vultures expected to see. “Now let’s finish this. How soon before Torin arrives?”

“An hour, give or take. They should make quite the entrance.” I smiled despite myself. “Give these people something to talk about, besides…well, what just happened.”

We both stared at the blood and bodies a shade too long.

Anaria cleared her throat. “We’re giving them hope, Raz. Hope for the future. Don’t forget that.” She nodded to a stone-faced Zorander, then we all turned to face what remained of the Shadow King’s decimated court, his throne room lying in ruins.

“The king is dead.” Zorander raised his fist above his head and faced the court. “His daughter Anaria Centaria is now queen, through blood and name. I will command the army, and Tavion Montgomery will liaise between the queen and her royal court.”

Tavion’s lips peeled back to reveal his fangs, a low, feral growl emerging that no one would mistake as friendly. “And by liaise he means if you fucking cross me, I will gut you faster than you can say I hate rich aristocrats.”

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