Page 108 of In the Ravenous Dark
“Kill them,” he repeats, growling. “I am still your king. And a truer one you’ve never had since Athanatos.”
“It’s literally beenonlyyou, since him,” Japha says, their sardonic tone carrying across the courtyard. “But that doesn’t mean you’re true. You’ve kept the throne through an endless string of lies and regicide. You’ve ruled by deceiving your people. I’d say we’re done with all of that.”
“You did this.” The king turns slowly to Japha, those flickering red eyes finding them across the gap between the two forces. “Tumarq would never betray me otherwise, not for the little blue-haired witch. You’re a disgrace. You’ve never belonged in this family.”
If the words are meant to be damning, they don’t have their intended effect. Japha grins. “Or maybeyoudon’t belong anymore.”
The king’s eyes don’t leave theirs. “Indeed. Our blood is too diluted. This latest generation is a shame. I’ve had to tolerate you as a bloodline because your sister was inadequate and took her own life. Kineas was a fool, Lydea willful. And Crisea has always been her mother’s greatest weakness.”
Tumarq’s hand tightens on his sword. “Never mention my children with your foul lips ever again.”
The king ignores him and looks at Ivrilos, his brother. “Children are always a liability. He should have entirely rid himself ofyou, bastard.”
“You too, then,” Ivrilos says.
“No, because I made myself indispensable. His greatest strength.”
Tumarq takes a step forward, moving closer to his children.Bothof them. “Then Japha and Crisea are mine.”
I hear Japha’s breath catch. And then I hear a door slam open. Footsteps over the courtyard’s cobblestones.
“And perhaps I will be my father’s,” says a voice that makes me flinch, “even if he doesn’t have a say in it.” Lydea comes striding out from the storage building. Her wine-colored peplos flows around her like a storm, her dark eyes practically sparking in the torchlight. I shake my head at her, willing her back inside. She’s in too much danger out here. And yet she stands in a line with the rest of us, hands held ready by her strophion-twined hips.
The king smiles down at her from atop his horse. “Why would I not have a say in your significance, daughter dear?”
“Because you’re not my father,” Lydea says, and then waves a hand over the bloodmages. “No one will be charged with treason if you resist this man… if you stand with me. I am Thanopolis’s future, so help me. Help your polis. Because my father is gone.”
The king stares at her, death in his red eyes.
“Children are nothing without their fathers,” he says. “Headless beasts without guidance.Youare already nothing. But some of you are still too much.” His gaze flickers. His hand moves even faster.
I realize what he’s doing, but too late. I’ve been focused on protecting Lydea. Japha, Bethea. Even Ivrilos. I spin toward Tumarq just as the king reaches for him.
The father of Japha and Crisea. Head of the army.
I try to block whatever it is the king has thrown. It looks like liquid darkness, slithering like a snake through the air. I rip up the stones of the courtyard as a shield, but his magic just flows around it.Fire, I think frantically—I could burn it, turn the liquid to mist, but that much heat would scorch everyone around me.
The toxic darkness coils and strikes.
And hitsJapha, square in the chest, who has thrown themself in front of Tumarq at the last second.
Japha stumbles. They look around, almost in confusion. And then I see the poison streaking up their neck, deeper and darker under their skin than their bloodline. They collapse to their knees.
“No!” I shriek.
Tumarq cries out at the same time. He catches Japha’s shoulders as they topple sideways, cradling them in his arms. The darkness is bleeding into Japha’s eyes, turning them fully black. Their limbs shake uncontrollably against the cobbles. Their chest convulses.
“Fight this,” Tumarq commands, his strong hand cupping Japha’s cheek. “You are my greatest strength. You always were. You were always enough. Now fight. I’m begging you.”
Japha opens their mouth to respond, and blackness like tar bubbles out.
Tumarq’s words grow more frantic. “I’m supposed to beyourshield. It should have hit me.” His voice breaks. “Why, Japha?”
I’ve moved without realizing it. I’m almost to them, fingers outstretched, mouth opening to stop this however I can. But no words come, no sigils, because I hear Japha’s heart stutter… and stop.
Tumarq lets out a bellow of anguish. Lydea stands frozen, hands over her mouth, eyes flown wide in horror. Crisea and Bethea both dive for Japha, taking their hands and muttering frantically, but there’s nothing either of them can do.
Japha just called themself the luckiest of us. And now they’re dead.
