Page 141 of Vicious Is My Throne

But my fucking brain still worked just fine.

“Tristan. Can you carry both Bex and Anaria?”

He nodded gravely. “I can, but I can’t carry them both plus food. If we plan on eating for the next week, all of that”—he jerked his head to what was piled on the table—“has to come with us. And we’d better pray the water coming down out of the mountains isn’t contaminated.”

“Bexley didn’t have an issue transporting all that food from his workshop in Tempeste to the palace.” I gave the mage the evil eye. “Surely you can do that again?”

“Believe me, we’ve already discussed this, Commander.” Bexley looked apologetic down to his core. “We are two realms away from the palace. My magic gets…spotty over long distances. We can’t risk losing the only food we have.”

“Our best option is for me to carry Anaria and fill bags with all of this.” Tristan scanned the table slowly, like he was calculating every ounce. “I can carry this weight plus the princess to the palace. Add in Bexley and a stiff headwind and none of us will survive the trip.”

“Then go,” I told him. “You should have been in the air hours ago.”

“We tried that, too.” Raz gave Anaria the side-eye. “Didn’t work.”

I groaned in frustration. “Anaria, you have to be smart about this. Let’s get this food packed up and you in the air. I think we’ll all feel better once we know you’re safely out of danger.”

“Just like I’m not the only one who can be a martyr, Zor”—I winced at the ice in Anaria’s tone—“you’re not the only one allowed to protect the rest of us. None of us are leaving you behind.”

“That’s not what I was saying. If you’d let me explain…” I burst to my feet, teetered back and forth, arms flailing like a duck’s, before I promptly tipped backward. I tried, I really fucking tried, but I couldn’t stop myself from falling flat on my arse.

“Godsdamn.” I wanted to rip Tavion’s grin off his arrogant, gloating face. “Fuck the steps, I’ll bet you twenty gilder he can’t stand back up.”

60

ANARIA

Ididn’t know where to look first.

At Zor, wings trapped beneath him splayed at two totally different, uncomfortable angles, glaring up at Tavion. At Tristan and Bexley, frantically stuffing food into the bags so Tristan could fly me to the palace, even though no one had bothered asking me my opinion on the matter.

Or at Tavion, fingers tapping impatiently on the table as he waited for Zor to climb to his feet.

“What? Nobody wants to take my ten gilder?” My husband’s grin faltered when my glare fell on him. “It was a joke,” he muttered. “Just trying to lighten the mood. Sheesh.”

“Read the room, you idiot,” Raz muttered, moving forward at the same time I did, both of us reaching for Zor’s arms.

“Fucking leave me be. I can do this myself.” There was a biting edge to Zor’s low snarl, and I snapped my hands back, but Raziel just grasped Zor’s arm and heaved him to his feet.

“Stop snapping at us, you grumpy bastard. This will take some getting used to. Remember when Grenfel lost an arm and had to learn to fight all over again with his left hand? This is like that.”

Zor paused and, for the first time, seemed to actually focus.

“Grenfel, huh?” Zor looked thoughtful, one wing standing higher than the other one, teetering back and forth as he fought for balance. “That fucker was a menace, even with one arm.”

“As you’ll be, as soon as you stop falling over,” Tavion teased, his eyes glowing with amusement. “But don’t worry, fearless leader, we’ll keep picking you up off the floor until the day that happens.”

Zor’s jaw worked. “You can fuck right off, wolf.”

Tavion winked at me. “Spoken like a true poet. Now, what’s our plan should Lord and Lady Whitehall show up? My wife will be on her way to the palace, carried safely on the back of our own pet wyvern…”

“Fuck off, Tavion, you wanker,” Tristan spat along with a burst of sparks. My dear husband only grinned wider.

“…leaving us to face them alone. Since your body is for shite right now, Zor, let’s put that strategic mind to work.” Gods, Tavion was enjoying this far too much, and that little possessive growl he did every time he said my wife was simply to get a rise out of the others.

“First of all, you are not the boss of me, husband, no matter how much you pretend you are. And stop being a pain in everybody’s arse. And for the final time, I’m not leaving any of you behind.” I stared them all down, daring them—just one of them—to argue.

When Zor scowled, I pointed to the windows dripping with rot. “Once this ward breaks, the blight comes in. Depending on the size of the opening, we might not have time to escape before we’re fighting the effects of the blight. Our best chance is me shoring up the shield, keeping the rot out.”

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