Page 1 of Vicious Is My Throne

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ANARIA

Waking up alive when you should be dead usually gave the morning a sense of infinite possibility, but not today.

In a few hours we would leave for Nightcairn, deep in the Taranth Mountains corrupted by Corvus’s ancient, sinister magic.

According to Zephryn’s latest report, every hollow and chasm oozed with the Old God’s foul darkness, which meant we’d face not only the treacherous terrain, but whatever dangers lurked in the shadows.

I’d tossed and turned all night, so before I even opened my eyes, I breathed in everyone’s scents, pine and musk and cinnamon, pinpointing where everyone was by smell alone.

Raziel dozing to my right. Tavion snoring on my left. Tristan was, most likely, in his own room and Zorander was…

My brow wrinkled. Not here.

My fiercest protectors kept me cocooned inside a warm, safe nest of powerful bodies while the outside world spiraled out of control.

In a few hours we’d face the worst of that chaos.

Ever since I’d dropped the protective ward between realms, magic ran rampant in Solarys, the burgeoning forest shoving up from the south like an unstoppable wave, while Corvus’s corruption crept down from the north, devouring everything we’d rebuilt.

Blackcastle was about to be crushed between two devastating forces. I couldn’t do anything about the forest, but Corvus had to be stopped.

After killing two kings and freeing their realms, I wasn’t ready to go back to war.

But—story of my life—we were the only ones strong enough to take him on.

I slid out from between Raziel and Tavion and climbed over Tristan, wincing when my feet hit the freezing floor. One glance at the cold fireplace told me Zorander had left hours ago, probably making sure the city was secure.

Which was turning out to be a full-time job.

A handful of citizens were locked in the dungeons for their own safety until they learned to control their newly emerged magic. Two were awaiting execution for murdering an innocent shopkeeper, while three would be banished for assaulting refugees.

Chaos was slowly becoming order, but stability came at a steep price.

And left me feeling…dirty.

I’d be a fool to think cities rebuilt themselves, and I chewed on my lip as I dropped a borrowed dress from Sophie over my head, then padded out to survey the three exhausted males still fast asleep in my bed.

There was something so perfect about the sight that my heart squeezed tight before I turned away, determined not to waste today tangled in pointless emotions. There wasn’t time for me to fall apart anyway. We only had this morning to tie up loose ends before we left for Nightcairn.

And then…I blew out a breath that left me dizzy.

Then we had to kill an Old God.

We’d discussed how, exactly, to do that many, many times, and while everyone else was careful to tiptoe around the truth, I saw things clearly. I was the only one of us with enough magic to face him, so when the time came, this would come down to me against Corvus.

I shivered, opening the door to our chamber—and nearly tripped over the heaping pile of packages outside, carefully tied with a familiar pale-pink ribbons.

I smothered my gasp because today was definitely looking up.

“Morning, princess,” Tristan ambled up to me, hair still tousled. “Are you ready for this?”

“I am now.” I grinned, gathering the boxes into my arms and staggering back inside, then dumped them onto the bed beside Raziel, who cracked open one eye with a lazy smile.

“Look at you, princess. Not so much as a splash of blood on your face, or a smear of soot. You must have just gotten out of bed.”

“I did, in fact, and don’t act so high and mighty. Not so long ago you dragged yourself home, stinking like a smoke-filled sewer.” I held up one of the boxes, bouncing on my toes, my voice high. “Look what I found outside our door.”

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