Page 4 of Insurrection
A part of me momentarily considered not going to the meeting. I looked longingly at the crimson red velvet couch stationed in front of the fireplace. The dark, skinny windows showcased the storm flashing outside, and my bookcase was practically calling to me, urging me to curl up on the couch and escape to somewhere that wasn’t filled with judgmental jerks.
I mean, did my dadreallyneed me there?
Then again, Drayven would likely be there for the open court session, so, if I wanted to prove that I was a better successor than him, it would do me good to show up.
Every century, the six houses held a Summit to determine the next Supreme for the hundred years to come. The Supreme was the tiebreaker and final vote on all decisions funneled through the kings and queens of each house during the hundred-year span of their rule. They were also given enhanced abilities in order to be able to keep the other houses in check if they stepped out of line. Because of this unique benefit, it was a prized appointment that needed to be given to the right person. If someone with the wrong ambitions received it, it could easily be abused to give their own house a tremendous leg up over the others.
It was generally understood that someone with an even temperament and unbiased mindset, focused on the good of the realm, was the best fit for a position like the Supreme.
That’s why my father had held it for so long.
My dad liked to keep me informed as much as possible on his plans regarding the House of Death, which of course made me feel like he not only trusted me but had faith in my potential as a leader. That thought gave me the final push I needed to go to this meeting. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted to make him proud. Even if it meant attending the open court after a meeting consisting of our royal court of the House of Death asking a million and ten questions about the Summit and our plans moving forward.
I inhaled sharply, pulling myself out of a particular relaxing fantasy of lazing around in bed reading, and moved with determination towards the door. I would not hide away. Even if the concept of arriving alone was more intimidating and frustrating than I would like to admit.
The heavy door of my suite closed behind me with a loud bang before I could talk myself out of going. Two guards offered me nods of greeting from where they stood on either side of the door. I offered one of them a smile, not recognizing him and wanting to be friendly. I quickly realized my mistake.
Annoyance with myself filtered through me as a pink blush hit his cheeks and a hazy look invaded his dark eyes. The look associated with my Succubus allure. The one that I never used because it reminded me so much of all the harm those powers could cause.
Being a hybrid sucked.
Being rejected by the territory you half belonged to was awful.
But managing to keep one half of your essence tied down because you weren’t comfortable with what it was capable of? Yeah. That was a new level of pain, if I was being honest.
Sometimes it became overwhelming—the need to feed off others' lust and desires. Sometimes it was so bad that I would feel like I was getting sick, my throat drying up and a fever spiking. I still never gave in.
I refused to be likeher.My mother.
Luckily, I could gain energy and feed in a different way, and while it was still uncomfortable not using that side of me, I had figured out a way to make it bearable. By using Reaper magic to feed off the lust that had accumulated in their souls over their lifespan, I was able to subdue the part of me that wanted to feed off the physical component of that energy. One that I had yet to experience myself and likely never would.
You would think, as a Succubus, I would have made it a point to experience as much lust as possible, but I didn’t. Not only did I actively avoid it, but I also had yet to truly feel it. Well, ok, that wasn’t completely true. There had only been one person that I had felt an insurmountable sense of desire towards—Drayven. So, now those emotions were gone. Sort of… okay, I was a bit of a liar. I thought about Drayven far more than I cared to admit, especially when I was alone.
It was crap that I would still be attracted to such a jerk. Why couldn’t I feel an overwhelming desire for a man who wasn’t an ass? Luckily for me, the hatred I felt towards him made not using that side of my magic far easier. Plus, this way I was able to use my scythe more and remind myself that I didn’t need that other half of me.
I was itching to go on another mission to reap souls soon. Thankfully my dad understood my need to feed in that manner, and assigned me to go more often than others my age. Unfortunately, it definitely did me no favors with blending in. It often angered the others that I was being given special treatment. A reaper’s scythe was a symbol of their power levels, the more souls they reaped, the more energy their scythe was able to hold. They thought he was giving me the opportunity to become more powerful than them, when really, he was just giving me the opportunity to stay alive without being forced to use the half of me that I despised.
I couldn’t blame them for feeling anger towards me, but I also didn’t feel comfortable sharing why I had to feed that way with individuals who hated me. I literally needed to do it to satisfy the other half of me. No. They didn’t need another reminder of how different I was from them.
As I thought of my scythe, my power hummed in pleasure at its appearance, the metal warm beneath my hand. My Reaper magic took the form of black smoke streaked with small electrical currents of crimson that matched my hair, circling and crawling up my arm in greeting before dissipating.
All Reapers had scythes, but mine was particularly badass, as it was crafted with a special mixture of metals that only the royal line had access to. It was a reminder of my status here, no matter how many times people tried to belittle me and tell me I had no claim to the throne after my father was gone.
I made my way through the private quarters of the royal family and headed down several sets of stairs, noting that more people had begun to appear. The castle itself was usually very crowded, the dark gothic halls and large array of rooms containing everything from social gatherings to business meetings throughout the day. It was one of the reasons I was glad my father had sectioned off our personal quarters from the rest of the castle, allowing for some semblance of privacy.
I didn’t want to have to worry about people interrupting my leisurely time spent reading. That had happened once last year, and I had nearly thrown my book across the room to avoid my tutor realizing I was smack dab in the middle of a steamy scene.
No, thank you. I did not need my seventy something year old tutor realizing that I had taken a liking to romance novels.Graphicromance novels.
That would have been beyond awkward, and I hadn’t wanted to be held responsible if he’d collapsed on the spot upon finding out. I hadn’t thought his old heart could take the shock to the system.
I could feel judgmental gazes on me as I roamed down the hallway, and I summoned my favorite accessory. A cool metal weight settled on top of my head, resting like a shield. I found people were far less likely to openly make rude comments about me while I was wearing my crown.
Although, it was a bit uncomfortable. Probably due to the black encrusted diamonds and dark metal frame that rested around my horns a bit snuggly.
As I neared the throne room, the crowds grew, and I walked through the heavy groups of people until I reached the doors. Instantly, individuals were moving out of my way as the guards let me cross into the large, nearly four-story ceiling space that contained not only the royal court, but also my father’s throne.
Upon my entrance, my father immediately looked up, a happy smile filling his face as the person he was talking to turned to look at me with a disapproving expression.
