Page 34 of Vicious Is My Throne

Tavion was right behind me, muttering something so foul I was glad Anaria was already inside. “I swear to the fucking gods, I’m never flying again.” His face was the color of pea soup.

I lowered my voice. “I hate to tell you this, but flying’s the only way in and out of here.”

He glared back at Tristan. “I’d rather walk through fucking fire than go into the air with him again.”

We stepped into the soaring marble entry and found Anaria shoved behind Zor, his sword digging into the chest of an interloper, who was mumbling out a breathless apology.

“Raziel. Thank the gods you’re here.” A very frightened Bexley tightened the blanket around himself as he flashed a watery smile. “I honestly didn’t expect to see anyone ever again. Please don’t kick me out. Please. I have nowhere else to go.”

I rolled my eyes, because as far as Anaria was concerned, if there were ever magic words, those were them.

“The infection started small a few days ago. Six days, to be exact. I was scavenging what I could from the shops when I first noticed the smell. I thought, of course, I smelled those horrid Reapers, but the stench grew stronger. Then I noticed black tendrils growing out of the Citadelle. I went to investigate, even collected a tiny piece to experiment on.”

The old mage shook his head ruefully. “That was a big mistake. The rot infected my entire laboratory in a matter of hours. I was only able to save a few possessions.”

His eyes shifted to the dining room door.

“I didn’t know where else to go, and I had to save as much of my research as I could, so I came here.” He lunged to his feet when Zor headed for the dining room. “Wait, no. Please, wait…”

Zorander flung the doors open and revealed a long table covered with open spell books and half-filled beakers and vials, something thick bubbling over the fire. But there, on the sideboard…

“Where did all this food come from?” I picked up a loaf of bread and sniffed. Fresh, like it had been baked this morning. I tore off a piece and my stomach growled as I stuffed it into my mouth.

“I made it, of course. Nobody trusts mages, you know. I’ve had to fend for myself for a long time.” He nervously twisted the ring on his finger, a big gold monstrosity with a black stone, nodding to some baskets by the fireplace. “I picked those apples before the forest was infected. Some fox grapes and ramps I found by the river. The meat’s all that’s left from the butcher. I cleaned him out since I figured nobody would ever come back to the city.”

The entire room overflowed with food.

Enough to last us for months.

“You can stay,” I decided, chewing. “Is that going to blow us all to pieces?” I nodded at the bubbling cauldron of gods know what, steam hissing out beneath the heavy metal lid.

“That’s soup, you moron,” Bexley grumbled. “Don’t you know the difference between a potion and food?”

Even Anaria managed a wan smile at that.

She looked like she was about to collapse, and my breath caught, the protective side of me raging at how drawn she looked. She needed sleep. Real sleep, not a few hours here or there in the dirt, leaned against a stone wall.

Real sleep in a real bed, warm and safe, between all of us.

After a long, hot bath.

“Truth be told, I’m glad to see you.” Bexley wet his dry lips. “Well…as long as I can stay, I’m happy to see you.” His eyes drifted to the windows. “Was that a wyvern or were my eyes playing tricks on me?”

“A wyvern,” I said, taking another bite of the bread. Fuck, Bexley was a decent baker. “Word of advice, don’t let him fly you anywhere unless you have a fucking death wish.”

Tavion headed straight for the liquor, bypassing the food altogether. Zor left to secure the palace, while I pulled a chair over beside the fire and led Anaria to where it was warm then handed her the hunk of bread. She was pale, the shadows beneath her eyes standing out in stark relief.

She looked so young, so vulnerable, my heart clenched.

All I wanted was to scoop her into my arms and shield her from this entire world. But from the determined way her eyes steeled on Bexley, the mage would be answering some questions first. So I settled myself beside her, letting the heat of the fire sink into my frozen bones.

If this fucker so much as looked at her wrong, I’d gut him.

Anaria’s smile was tired but genuine. “I never really thanked you for healing me before.” She accepted a cup of water from Tavion, who took up position in the back of the room, his back braced against the wall, arms folded over his chest, gaze fixed on the mage.

“I would not be here if it was not for you.” She laid her hand over her chest and inclined her head to the mage, who looked positively charmed. “Thank you for your kindness, Bexley. I never got to say goodbye, we left in such a hurry.”

“It was my pleasure. Torin and I…have a long-standing agreement, you see.” His face softened the longer he gazed at her. “We magical folk have to stick together, don’t we?”

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