The Emperor of Evening Stars by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 8 A Body to Curse

220 years ago

In the royal crypt beneath my palace, I stare at my father’s body. He’s laid out on a white stone slab, his body cleaned and dressed. Down here the fae lights glow weakly, making the arched marble walls around us glitter in the low light.

Even in death there’s something about his face that’s haughty, cruel, unconquerable. One look at him and you would’ve thought he’d been the victor of our duel.

I touch my forehead, where my crude bronze circlet sits. I refuse to wear Galleghar’s crown or any other, save this one. It’s a soldier’s crown—simple, unassuming, and most importantly, it doesn’t get in the fucking way if battle breaks out.

I’ve lived too long in the muck to develop a taste for fancy things.

I drop my hand. That last night of Galleghar’s life, the night I killed him, he’d known I’d take his kingdom from him. Even I hadn’t really grasped that. I’d assumed I could come in, finish him off, and disappear into thin air. Ruling had never been a part of my strategy. But even if I weren’t Galleghar’s son, killing kings is how conquerors come to power.

So here I am, reluctant to lead, but even more reluctant to abdicate and let one of Galleghar’s scheming sycophants inherit the throne.

I walk around my father’s body and rub my lower lip with my thumb. I hate that he’s here, lingering in this castle even now. I have no intention of letting him stay, but for the moment, there’s no other place for him to go.

It’s been weeks since I ran him through with my sword, and in all that time his body has failed to decay. The creatures won’t eat it—not the hounds, not the birds, not the fish, not even the monsters that live in the wilds of Memnos. Those were my first attempts to dispose of him—much to the shock and horror of all the haughty nobles. They’re more frightened of me and my barbaric ways than they ever were of my father.

When the creatures wouldn’t consume Galleghar’s body, I tried to bury him, only to have the earth spit him back out. I tried to set his body to sea, but the water refused to take him in. Not even fire would desecrate his flesh; the pyre burned to the ground, and once the last dying embers extinguished, Galleghar was still there, every hair on his head intact.

I study him now, my eyes narrowing. There are only four reasons a body fails to decay: One, the fairy is not dead. Two, a fairy is too powerful to kill. Three, a fairy is too pure of heart to return to the earth. And four, a fairy is so depraved that nature refuses to claim him.

This last reason sounds the most accurate.

My mouth thins as I look at the incorruptible body of Galleghar Nyx. Far above me, the last women of his harem are packing up their things and leaving. Of his hundreds of concubines—and by the end, there were hundreds—dozens upon dozens mourned his loss, some even going so far as to be openly hostile to me. He killed their children and yet they mourned him. I can’t wrap my mind around that.

Their living quarters will be converted into a weapons room, a library, and guest suites. All vestiges of the rooms’ previous use will be wiped away. It’s the least I can do to honor my mother’s memory.

And that’s what this all really comes down to: I killed Galleghar because he took the one person I’d ever loved from me. I’d called it justice, but this doesn’t feel like justice; my mother is still dead, I’m still alone, and this emptiness inside me is still there.

I give the Shadow King a final look. So many things I still have to say to him. So many ways I still want to hurt him.

I’ll never get the chance.

I grab his body and toss him over my shoulder. No matter. The king is dead, and tonight will be the last night Galleghar Nyx will haunt these halls.