Page 98 of Vicious Is My Throne

“They’ll put their slaves in front of the doors,” she said quietly. “Force them to take the brunt of the attack. What do you suggest?”

“Wyvern,” Tristan said with no hesitation.

“Something a bit more subtle, I think,” I murmured, eyeing the front of the building. “Let’s keep casualties to a minimum, shall we?”

Tristan bristled. “I’m not a loose cannon, so you can fuck right off.”

“Just this morning you were complaining about how hungry you were.” Tavion gave him the side-eye. “And there’s no reasoning with your wyvern, so that’s a hard no.”

“Do you remember your grand entrance the day you killed my father?” Anaria asked me, her eyes fixed on the faces peering out the windows. “If anything would convince Lord Rivière to come out and talk to us, that would be it.”

“I’d be honored to be your bad guy.” I winked, because deep inside me, I sensed Anaria’s fear like it was my own and would do anything to ease her burden. “Your wish is my command, princess. Let’s get the lord of the house out here for a civil conversation, shall we?”

My magic felt sluggish and unwieldy in this realm, but unspooled, dark tendrils gleaming with blue unfurled around us as I strode away from the protection of Anaria’s shield.

The archers leaned over the lip of the roof, bows creaking as I left the others on the drive and climbed the stairs leading to the front doors, the scraping and shouting inside the manor house increasing to near-frantic proportions as a flock of arrows hurtled toward me, only to disintegrate the second they touched my magic.

“Tell Lord Rivière to stop hiding behind his slaves like a fucking coward and come out, or I’ll drag him out by his hair.”

The prospect appealed to me on so many levels, the humiliation, the restrained violence against these fuckers who’d hurt Anaria even peripherally. I wanted nothing more than to make them pay, though my princess’s message was clear.

No casualties.

I could work within those parameters. Up to a point.

Magic spun around me in lazy circles, poking at the doors, crawling through cracks and keyholes, the shouting inside turning to dead silence as I penetrated their pathetic wards. Little more than parlor tricks, thin as an eggshell and as easily broken.

Checking to make sure Anaria’s shield was still up, I gave the doors a yank, breaking them free of their hinges, and tossed them onto the front yard with a thud, knocking one of the statues from its plinth.

“Sorry about that,” Tavion yelled gleefully.

Behind the stacked furniture and the line of stock-still, frightened slaves, Fae scrambled to get away, some dressed in the same livery as those footmen, but one…one of them was fleeing dressed in a foppish coat, enough gold sparkling on his fingers to fund a small war.

I tore through the wall of furniture, wood and glass shattering into the grass. My magic snaked carefully between the terrified slaves and caught Lord Eirik Rivière’s ankle. I dragged the weeping, spineless Descendant across the floor, between his slaves, through the doors, and down the steps, tossing him at Anaria’s feet.

But Anaria barely registered him, stepping over his prone form and heading toward the line of slaves, some of whom had collapsed, faces pressed into their hands, shoulders shaking.

“It’s alright,” she whispered. “We’re here now.”

Anaria helped one girl to her feet, brushing the dust off her shoulders. “You’re going to be alright.”

The slave trembled so badly I didn’t think her legs would hold her, but Anaria folded her into her arms and hugged the sobbing girl tight.

“My name is Anaria Centaria, and from this moment forward, consider yourself free.”

41

ZORANDER

“Zor, don’t be a fool. You don’t have enough magic,” Torin warned as I shoved the pendant deep into the pocket inside my jacket and buttoned the flap.

“Not enough to get past the blight, and landing anywhere in that forest will be suicide. Wait one more day.”

“I can reach the Wynter Palace.” I exhaled, slow and even, willing myself calm. To adopt the steadiness required for what came next. “I will make it to the Wynter Palace,” I said again, louder this time.

“Tell Cosimo thanks for the distraction. For buying me time to do this.”

“Thank him yourself when you see us again.” She hesitated then threw her arms around me. I froze for a moment before hugging her back. “Stay safe, drop that wall, and tell Anaria to not let that bitch lay her finger on a single drop of magic. That’s the only leverage we have right now.”

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