Page 134 of Vicious Is My Throne

“I agree to no such thing, Tavion, and I’m sick and tired of you?—”

I cut her off. “You are the only one who really matters, Anaria,” I reminded her gently. “We’re down to it now, and you are the only one of us who has enough magic to face Corvus. You are the only one of us strong enough to face Corvus. We serve you.”

I took her hand, turned it over, and stroked my finger down the center of her palm. “We exist to serve our queen, as we always have. As we always will. And you cannot stay here any longer, Anaria. Your fate was always to the north, and it’s our duty to get you there. But nothing we’ve thus far done matters if you die in this place.”

Because Anaria’s survival was all that mattered. She was my life. And I could trust Raz to get her the furthest away and keep her the safest.

Her safety was the bedrock upon which I stood, her happiness the air I breathed. My entire existence was based on her wellbeing, and the second the Oracle showed her face, I would give my life to allow Anaria time to escape.

“And go where, exactly?” Tristan asked quietly. “We have so few options; we might as well have none at all.”

Raz dragged his hands down his face, his expression bleak. “Back to the original plan. Tristan flies to the palace to make sure it’s still safe. I’ll get to Whitehall and scrounge up as much food and water as I can. We rest, get strong, and wait for Zor to…fucking grow wings, I guess.”

57

ANARIA

The next few hours were a haze of waiting, making plans, those plans being scrapped, and a pointless, frustrating argument about which was more painful, growing wings or growing fur, which culminated in the flipping of a table and Tavion deciding that he did, in fact, need something to drink besides wine.

Right then and there, I resolved that when this was over, Raz and I were definitely going to the beach, even if I had to drag my broken, beaten body over the warm sand and down to the water.

Tristan should be almost to the Wynter Palace by now if he’d calculated the distance correctly. When he returned late this afternoon, we’d know if that was still a viable destination.

Or if we had to come up with yet another plan.

Raziel made that first trip to Whitehall count, bringing back an armful of day-old breads and fruits, choice dried sausages, and an entire wheel of cheese. But we all dove for the waterskin, so cold condensation dripped down the sides.

“The kitchen is stuffed with food. Stuffed. They have a well inside the kitchen and the water is clean. I need more waterskins to fill. The armoires are full of dresses, if there is anything you need, Anaria.”

“Time,” Tavion said wryly. “That’s what’s in short supply around here.”

My husband was right. I’d reinforced the warding around this wing of the castle and sealed the door to the cistern room, hoping to buy us more time. But for now, I’d enjoy this glass of crystal-clear water, which was, quite possibly, the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.

“What about Lord and Lady Whitehall?” Tavion asked. “Their guards?”

Raziel paused, looking uneasy. “Gone. The iron door was wide open, the padlock broken. Not sure who set them free, but the chances they’d come here…They’d never survive the blight. They’ll head west like everyone else.”

Tavion muttered in agreement, and I thought the logic sound enough not to argue.

Raz left for a second load while I filled a glass with water, piled food on a tray balanced on my hip, and headed back upstairs to Zorander.

Walking through the castle holding a tray was pure muscle memory, beaten into me since I’d learned to walk, and something I was incapable of forgetting, down to exactly where to place my feet to avoid the squeaky floorboards so not to wake the duke and risk a whipping.

Gods, I despised this place.

The way it stripped away any power I’d earned these past months, leaving me revealed as what I really was. A young girl with no discernible training or skillset, only enough raw power to knock down a building or destroy an entire realm.

All the realms, the way things were going.

I hipped my way through the door, taking a smidge of pride in the fact I didn’t spill a drop of water, nor shift the pile of grapes on the translucent porcelain plate, and nearly gagged when I hit a wall of choking humidity.

Magic was so thick the air was sludgy. Thick like I was walking through soup or molasses. Like down in the tunnel portal, I remembered, horror trickling through me. That odd, cloying stickiness that clung to my skin and hair like the magic was unwilling to let me go.

In any other circumstances, I would have opened the window, but considering that would be suicide, I headed in the direction of the bed, bare feet silent on the thick woolen rug.

“Zor. I brought water.” Besides the gloaming darkness, there was too much of Zor’s dark power in the air for me to see what was right in front of my nose. When my thighs hit the edge of the bed, I moved to my right, toward the nightside table. Three short steps and I set the tray down, almost spilling the water in the process.

“Wake up. I can’t see a thing, and you don’t want me to open the blinds. The sun’s even brighter than it was a few hours ago.”

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