Page 152 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Alarm needled its way into Atlas’s spine, suspicion and mistrust keeping him on edge. Wary and alert. He glanced at his father, guarded, and his voice dropped. “What have you done?”
“I did what is best for the longevity of my kingdom.” Oldrich tucked his hands behind his back and turned, climbing the few granite steps of the dais. He seated himself on his throne of obsidian—the engraved wolves seeming to snarl at his presence—and leaned back, rapping his knuckles across the curving arm. “You see, not so long ago, the fire ruby mines began to suffer. As you know, the rubies are one of Prava’s main sources of wealth, and the jewels make for excellent trade.”
Atlas glanced down at Veros, who was staring straight ahead, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
“What does any of this have to do with Everinne?” Meeting his father’s complacent gaze, Atlas dared one step forward. The kralv’s guards remained in place, only Jarek met his advance.
Oldrich disregarded him once more, instead he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a glittering black stone. “Without the rubies, there would be no wealth. Then one of the mining prisoners discovered this.”
He lifted the gem and held it high, so the waning light of the chandelier reflected a thousand stars against the stone’s polished surface. The jewel looked exactly like the one Everinne pointed out at the witch’s shop in the Marzena.
“It’s a nightfall diamond. Rare and desirable. And its value is excessive.” The kralv cradled it in his palm, coiling one finger around it at a time, hiding away its beauty. “Unfortunately, mining for the diamonds is quite dangerous.”
“The immortals,” Atlas breathed, shock radiating through him. He knew his father was vile, but never did he think the kralv would stoop low enough as to send innocent lives to Rizenrok Forge just for more wealth. They were citizens of Prava,his people, and he’d betrayed them. “You’re not hunting them. You’re enslaving them.”
That was why Oldrich continuously brushed off Atlas’s concerns, that was why he attempted to distract him by forcing him to marry.
“Rather brilliant, don’t you think?” Oldrich chuckled. “The demon summoner so graciously agreed to grant me an endless supply of bodies to mine for nightfall diamonds.”
Atlas’s gaze shot to Jarek.
He stood utterly still, his hands folded before him, his expression one of quiet contemplation. His jaw ticked. There was a flicker in his gaze, barely imperceptible, but Atlas noticedit all the same. Jarek knew the entirety of the story, whereas Oldrich only seemed to be aware of the most intriguing chapters.
The kralv had been fooled.
“In exchange for what?” Atlas spun on his heel to face his father. “What did you promise him?”
The kralv smirked. “Your soul.”
Atlas reared back as though he’d been slapped. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Quite. Though I couldn’t give up my only son, not without ensuring I had a proper heir.” Oldrich leaned forward, his knuckles whitening over the arms of the throne, his brutal aura looming like a storm of tyranny. “Which is why I will raise your son or daughter to be the next kralv or kralvina. And you will become the next Zolvost.”
“What?” Atlas rounded on Jarek and stalked toward him, his malice expanding. He met the demon summoner’s cold glare head on. “You’re going to turn me into a sex-crazed demon? That’s your plan?”
Jarek said nothing, but Oldrich answered for him instead. “You must admit, it’s rather fitting.”
Atlas raked his hands through his hair, pacing before the dais. This couldn’t be real, it had to be some kind of fever dream. Maybe he’d indulged in too much honeyfire and his sound, rational mind was suffering the repercussions of exorbitant intoxication. His fists clenched at his sides, squeezing until his nails bit into his palms. He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them a moment later, he found Veros staring at him in solemn resignation.
He’d known. He’d known this would happen and could do nothing to prevent it. Because he was bound to the power of time.
Atlas sent a scathing look at his father, ignoring the way Jarek was closing in on him. “And what of Ever?”
The kralv shrugged and lounged back against his throne. He waved one dismissive hand through the air. “I intend to have her thoroughly broken and then I’ll use her as I see fit. I’d wed her myself, but I can’t have all of Prava loathing me for stealing my son’s betrothed.”
Atlas lunged for him, darting up the steps of the dais. It didn’t matter if he was without a dagger or sword, he would rip out his father’s heart with his hands.
His father’s answering laughter rattled through his mind as a blast of fiendish energy slammed into him. Without warning, he was airborne. The surge of power threw him down the stairs so his back smacked soundly against the granite floor and glowing skulls danced in front of his eyes. Pain cracked up and down his spine, and his breath wheezed out of him, leaving him gasping for air.
“Not so fast, playboy prince.” Jarek’s shadowy outline came into view, his eyes pulsing red beneath a drawn, dark brow.
“You can’t change me yet,” Atlas rasped, the words slipping between broken ribs and punctured lungs. He rolled his head, pinning his father with a look of retribution. “Your plan will fail. Everinne will never wed a demon. Our family bloodline will die with me, and you’ll never get your precious heir.”
His father flashed a cruel smile. “She will do exactly as I say…because you’re her mate.”
It was all the warning Atlas had before Jarek’s demonic powers consumed him. The air crackled and hissed, pressing in on his chest so he thought his lungs would collapse. Blood boiled through his veins as his bones elongated, forming new tendons, distorting his body into that of a hulking beast. Silver claws emerged from his hands and feet, and the sound of ripping fabric and tearing flesh pounded against his skull. Pain magnified and he writhed in torment, suffering beneath Jarek’s corrupt magic. Atlas’s chest expanded, his arms and legs bulking to an immensesize, carving him with solid, corded muscle. Before his eyes, he watched as his skin morphed into a hideous red shade, like the charred flames of an inferno. Curving onyx horns protruded through the top of his head, and when Atlas opened his mouth to scream, the agony worse than anything he’d suffered before, a serpent-like black tongue lashed out from between his lips.
The crush of demonic magic was too much, it slithered into his mind, absorbing his thoughts and dominating his emotions.
