Page 2 of Merciless Is My Crown

“Bring it.” The witch-forged collar the two ironsmiths carried seemed…bigger, somehow, than the others, the spikes sharper, the thrum of nulling magic colder. “Once this is on you, I will always know where you are, like a dog and its master. You will have no magic to speak of, only enough for rudimentary battlefield healing, but no more. So try to remain intact.”

Breath sawed in and out of my lungs when they clamped the iron around my throat, a dark, paralyzing cold leaching through my veins before my magic guttered away to nothing.

Roaring power was replaced by fractured emptiness; no trace remained of the deathly magic I’d taken for granted for so long. I thought I knew what it was like to be powerless, but in that moment, I realized I was only now discovering true vulnerability. To exist like this for the rest of my life would be worse than death.

I should have fallen in battle. I should have…

“Closer, Zorander. Witness the fall of those who betray me. Look at your predecessor, who believed he could rise up against me and steal my fucking throne.”

Serpens face grew colder, crueler. “Much like my brother, you tried to take my power, you common-born bastard. Now, you’ll learn what it is to be at my mercy.” He stepped back. “Now hold the collar in place while I forge the lock.”

Zorander’s misery-filled eyes met mine for a split second before he pressed the two halves of the collar together, the iron heating hot enough to scald my throat when the king’s dark magic melded the two halves together and turned me into his slave.

Rage. Regret. A thousand other things bloomed in Zor’s dark eyes before he dragged his cold, unfeeling gaze back to the king.

“That is all, Commander.” Dismissed, Zorander stepped away, fading into the lines of loyal—and some not-so-loyal—guards.

Serpens crouched down so we were eye to eye, the rings on his fingers glinting in the afternoon sun. “Because I know you’re a clever fuck, I added an extra layer of protection to your lock. Blood magic. Can you smell it, Raziel?”

My nostrils flared, and damn him, but yes, I could.

“You used Zor’s blood.” Spit frothed between my broken lips, all my hopes of escape crumbling to dust. “You fucking bastard.”

“It’s come to my attention you are friends with my new patrol commander. Thus, his magic was used to forge the lock that imprisons you.” His teeth glinted in the sun. “You know how this goes. Break the collar and he dies. Attempt to escape this realm and he dies. Override my magic and I will personally spike him to the Keep’s doors until his body rots and his bones crumble to dust.”

It was one thing to hold onto hope, even the fleeting kind.

But this…this was a door slammed shut, because I would never sacrifice Zorander for my own freedom. The best I could hope for was he’d continue our fight to kill this fucking monster in front of me and free this realm from his cruelty.

“Oh, one more thing.” Serpens grabbed a handful of hair and yanked my head back so I had no choice but to peer into his pitch-black eyes. “You breathe a word of this to him, I will collar him, right alongside the rest of you poor bastards. You chose the wrong side, Raziel. Now you belong to me, and I will use you as I see fit until the day you die.”

1

TAVION MONTGOMERY

Huddled around Anaria’s unconscious form, I kicked my horse to a gallop, the tunnel walls blurring as we streaked toward the exit.

This breakneck speed was suicidal in such a narrow space with no light, the hewn walls rough enough to shred flesh from bone within seconds if I miscalculated.

If my beast stumbled.

Zor’s shout of warning echoed through the darkness behind me, but I didn’t stop.

We couldn’t get out of these fucking tunnels fast enough because Anaria was writhing—fucking writhing—in my arms, her sweat-slicked body burning up, every keening whimper tearing holes in my heart.

We’d been in the tunnels for hours when Anaria collapsed, Corvus’s poison flooding her system, but we didn’t have hours to find her help. She was running out of time, if I didn’t get her to a healer soon. I hugged her closer, feeling every frantic beat of her racing heart thudding against mine, counting down the moments she had left.

The tunnel spit us into the now-verdant forest of Caladrius, and I ground my teeth when I realized the others were too far behind for my wolf’s hearing to detect. I brushed back her sweat-slicked hair. “Hang on, Anaria. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Every instinct urged me to take away her pain…but I didn’t have that kind of magic.

Night was on us, but my wolf’s keen eyes picked out the Reapers circling above the deserted city, their shadowy forms outlined against the star-flecked sky.

This was too fucking dangerous. I glanced into the darkness behind me, but there were no sounds from the tunnel. Too slow. They were moving too fucking slow. Although…I took another look at those Soul Reapers. Maybe this was good.

A large group would only draw attention.

“I’m taking you to the Wynter Palace,” I murmured. “We’ll wait there for the healer. Torin had better fucking come through, or I swear I will gut her.” Maybe Anaria’s lips twitched, but I couldn’t be sure.

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