Page 25 of Taken By the Alien Siren King

Sweat dripped into my eyes. My wounded arm screamed in protest. But Nedaris was tiring faster, unused to the brutal reality of real combat. Vigas had beaten that lesson into me years ago.

I feinted left, then spun right, bringing my sword down on his wrist with all my strength. The ceremonial blade clattered to the floor.

The hall fell silent. Nedaris’s eyes darted to his fallen weapon, then back to me as understanding dawned. The first stage was over.

I tossed my training sword aside and raised my fists. “Ready for the next lesson, brother?”

He attacked with a roar, all technique abandoned. His fist grazed my jaw as I twisted away, countering with a sharp jab to his throat. He gagged, stumbling back.

“You see a throne,” I said, circling him. “I see responsibility.”

His kick caught me in the side, sending pain lancing through my ribs. I grunted but didn’t fall.

“You see subjects.” I drove my fist into his stomach. “I see people who trust me with their lives.”

Blood and spittle flew from his mouth as he doubled over. The Knights watched in silence, none daring to interfere with the sacred combat.

I grabbed his hair, yanking his head up to meet my eyes. For a moment, I saw the brother I’d grown up with, the boy who’d followed me through the palace corridors, who’d once looked up to me before our father’s machinations turned us against each other.

“Yield, Nedaris,” I hissed, low enough for his ears only. A plea. “It doesn’t have to end with your death.”

For a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes. Regret, maybe, or recognition of his defeat. Then his gaze shifted past me, focusing on something beyond my shoulder.

Because that boy from my memory was gone, replaced by the man who’d ordered Stillwater destroyed to get to me.

“I will never yield to a king who beds animals,” he spat.

Before I could react, he twisted free and dove for his discarded sword. But he didn’t lunge for me.

He lunged for Emme.

Time slowed to a crawl. I saw the gleam of the blade as it arced toward her. Saw the shock in her eyes as death came for her. Saw my future—our future—about to be severed with one stroke.

No.

With a roar of fury, I leapt after him. My hand closed around a fallen Knight’s blade. Three steps. Two. One.

The sword entered Nedaris’s back with a sickening squelch, the tip erupting from his chest in a spray of crimson. His momentum carried him forward another step before his legs gave out.

I twisted the blade, ensuring the wound was mortal. No mercy. Not for this. Not for threatening my mate.

“You never understood,” I whispered as he slid off my blade. “A king protects what’s his.”

Nedaris collapsed at Emme’s feet, eyes wide with shock as his lifeblood pooled beneath him. The ceremonial sword slipped from his fingers with a dull clatter.

I met Emme’s gaze over my brother’s dying body. No horror in her eyes, no judgment at what I’d done to protect her. Just fierce satisfaction and a hunger that matched my own.

“Release her,” I ordered, my voice sharp enough to make the Knights holding Emme flinch. They dropped their grip immediately, stepping back as she straightened her spine.

The Knight who held my crown swallowed hard and extended it with trembling hands, unable to meet my eyes.

“Commander,” I called to Vigas. “Can we secure Stillwater?”

“We’re retaking it sector by sector, my king.” His gruff voice carried authority that had the remaining Knights shifting uneasily. “Stillwater Hold is yours.”

Loyal guards shook themselves out of the grasp of stunned Knights. Only a handful resisted, but when faced with unflinching determination from warriors they’d once trained alongside, the resistance crumbled.

“Good.” I settled the crown back where it belonged. “Begin the executions at dawn.”

---