The Cursed King by Abigail Owen

Chapter Five

Angelika slammed her fist into the heavy bag she was working, careful to keep her knuckles flat, thumb out of the way, hitting straight on and moving from her core, not her arm. It felt so good she did it again. And again, moving her body with the bag as though she was working over an opponent, focused and intent.

Airk was going tonight, and she needed something to calm her nerves before then.

The sounds of Samael’s fighters training all around her in the large cavern faded away as she pictured Pytheios’s face—rotten, as it had been before he recently mated.

By the time she finished, she was drenched in sweat and sucking wind. Like a damn human. She steadied the swinging bag, then dropped forward, hands on her knees, breathing hard. She was no Skylar when it came to fighting skills, but now that she was no longer pretending to be a wolf shifter, she’d gone back to her regular training and workouts.

Even more important now, given what she was about to do. The ability to defend herself was going to be critical. Probably.

“My, my.” Beside her, Arden, Ladon’s sister and one of his reps here in the Black Clan, raised her thick, dark brows and grinned. Dressed in pink and with glitter lining her eyes, the impression she gave off was total princess, but Angelika knew for certain this woman was a badass. Not to be underestimated. Skylar said Arden liked to use her femininity and male dragons’ ingrained perceptions to keep the upper hand. And good for her.

“So do all you Amon sisters know how to fight?” she teased.

Still breathing hard, Angelika swiped her T-shirt-covered shoulder over her face and grinned back. “Our mother made sure we were never going to be helpless. Even when we were human.” Or still are.

Arden sobered at that, turquoise eyes, which reflected the color of her scales when she was dragon, turning serious.

Angelika held up a hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag the conversation down.”

But Arden shook her head, deep black ponytail swinging. “I was thinking that I wish my mother had done the same for me.”

Angelika straightened and crossed to the other woman’s side. She hadn’t had much opportunity to talk with Arden. “You seem to have done okay for yourself.” She glanced at the heavy bag the other girl had been working.

Arden lifted a single shoulder. “My ability to fight is all thanks to my brother. Ladon taught me in secret.” She made a face. “Then acted all shocked and shaken when I wanted to be one of his guards.”

With a snorted laugh, Angelika shook her head. “Dragon shifters. What are you going to do?”

Arden’s eye roll was directed not at her absent brother, but over her shoulder at the man who’d come here as the other representative of the Blue Clan. Reid, the Captain of Ladon’s guard as well as his Viceroy of War, stood across the room, speaking with Samael and Airk. “Mate them,” Arden murmured. “It’s the only way to tame them.”

Almost as though he’d heard her, Reid glanced up, right at Arden, and stilled, visibly arrested. Then he slowly lifted a single eyebrow in teasing inquiry. Arden blew him a sarcastic kiss, which only made him laugh before turning back to his conversation.

Angelika scooted closer. “I know Ladon gave you permission to mate, but I hadn’t heard that you had yet.”

“We haven’t.” Pursed lips hinted at hesitation.

“Why not? If you don’t mind me being nosy. It’s clear there’s a connection.”

“Because mating me would mean he can’t mate anyone else, and I’m female-born.” Arden winced. “I’m sterile. I’m a fighter. How could I do that to him?”

Reid was suddenly right there with them, wrapping his arms around Arden’s waist. “Because I’ll haunt you and never look at another woman anyway.”

The way Arden melted against Reid sent a twang of longing through Angelika. Samael looked at Meira the same way. Total and utter adoration.

“Take it from me,” she said. “I watched my mother pine for my father all her life. Love is precious. A gift from the gods and the fates. Not perfect. Not easy. But don’t turn your back on it just because of a few ‘what ifs.’”

She slid a quick peek in Airk’s direction, not wanting him to think she was saying this for him. He’d said no. She respected that. But he wasn’t paying her any attention, anyway.

Returning her gaze to the couple, she tipped her head. “Not for all the what ifs in the world would I walk away if I’d found someone who looked at me the way that he looks at you.”

Not even Jedd, who thought himself desperately in love with her, had ever had that light in his eyes. Yet another reason she’d known that mating him hadn’t been right.

Two pairs of stunned blue eyes gazed back at her, and Angelika laughed. “Sorry. According to my sisters, I have a tendency to butt in with advice.”

“No. That was…” Arden swallowed. “That was good advice.”

“I got it!” Meira’s euphoric call had everyone in the room turning.

The patter of running feet sounded down the human tunnel a few seconds before she came hurrying into sight. Meira sprinted straight to Samael, who caught his mate as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Got what?” he asked, humor and love lighting up his face.

“That bastard’s hidden stash of treasure.”

Holy smokes. Meira had done it? Found Pytheios’s wealth, taken from all the clans. Stolen or taxed. They’d suspected—in actual fact, the previous King of the Black Clan, Gorgon, had suspected shortly before his death—that the red king would hide it using modern technology, and Meira had been tracking it for months with no luck.

“You found it?” Samael asked, as though he couldn’t quite believe it.

Meira nodded, as giddy as her serious sister got, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Found it and took it back. Every damn penny.”

The rotting king wasn’t going to like that. Angelika grinned, even as in the back of her mind she knew that would only escalate Pytheios’s plans against them. Still, it was harder to wage a war without funding.

With a burst of laughter that had every warrior in the room gaping at their king, Samael lifted Meira right off her feet. “Thank the gods. Maybe now you can get more sleep.”

…

Meira snuggled into Samael’s arms, drifting to sleep knowing she was safe and loved. But they had to get up soon. At a soft brush of his fingertips over the nape of her neck, her eyes fluttered open to find her mate watching her with a smile both tender and possessive.

“Gods, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. “No wonder all it took was one look in that mirror. I was yours before I even knew you were real.”

Meira grinned, an effervescent sort of happiness bubbling through her. Not just hers but his, too—she could sense it through that magical link that bound mates together. She propped herself up on one elbow to look him in the eyes. “I didn’t think it possible, but I love you more every day.”

He hummed in his throat. “Well, I am damn lovable.”

She pinched his pec, and he yelped but laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. Instead of tugging her closer, though, he flipped her to her back, then scooted down to lay his ear against her barely rounded belly covered by her softest nightgown. A little more than three months along, and thank the gods the nonstop nausea had finally ceased, but her breasts were still terribly sensitive. Samael hadn’t liked the nausea part at all. She’d never seen her big, strong dragon warrior so…helpless. Kind of adorable, actually.

“Hello, little one,” Sam murmured to her belly, as he did each morning and each night.

As happened every time, her heart swelled with love for them both. No scan had told them for sure yet that they were having a boy, but she’d seen him in a vision the night they’d conceived him.

Samael was still cooing to her belly, and Meira buttoned her lips around a grin because no way would she take away Sam’s joy in this moment by giggling at his antics. He was going to be an amazing father. He would need to be, raising the first boy a phoenix had ever given birth to.

One who would be next in line for the Black Dragon Clan’s throne and, possibly, for the position of High King, depending on what these next hours and days and maybe years revealed. Maybe not, though. High King was for the dragon shifter king mated to the phoenix. Rumor held that he had to claim her like a prize, but in actual fact, he needed to claim her heart. But that was before, when there’d only been one phoenix at a time. Not four. And always women.

This war wasn’t over, and the absolute dread of losing this wonderful thing they’d found together hung over every decision they made, and only darkened with terror of losing their child.

An alarm went off on the phone she’d left on the bedside table, telling her it was time to send Airk to his next destination. She’d already sent Angelika in ahead of him an hour ago.

She hadn’t shared Angelika’s new mission with Samael. She’d promised her sister to wait so that he wouldn’t feel obligated to tell Airk. But as soon as Airk was in, she would tell him.

“We’d better go,” she said.

…

Airk made his way to Samael and Meira’s personal chambers. The queen had had a massive wall of mirrors installed in what was essentially a guest suite. The reflections were what Meira used to move individuals between the Black, Blue, and Gold Clans’ mountains. The same one he’d come through a day ago after his first assassination.

He had a new target now—Belyy Zver.

Once the man had been a member of Zilant Amon’s Curia Regis, the king’s council members—a trusted friend and advisor to the phoenixes’ father.

None of Zilant’s original council members remained on that body of advisors now, a fact that Airk had discovered with careful research and speaking with those white dragons who’d already switched sides and joined the rebel kings’ cause. Most council members had “disappeared” shortly after Zilant’s death, when Pytheios had encouraged the clan to place King Volos on the throne. The few still alive had been given different positions of power elsewhere.

Belyy was now the Tribune of the second biggest base established by the White Clan, in charge of all that happened within his mountain. Mönkh Saridag—a peak in the Sayan Mountain Range, located on the current human border between the countries of Russia and Mongolia—was perhaps the most strategic location for the White Clan, given its proximity to both the Red and Green Clans to the south and east, as well as the Blue, Gold, and Black Clans farther west in various directions.

Any leader who had been in power when Zilant and Airk’s parents were killed could never be trusted. At the very least, they were cowards too afraid for their own lives to speak up against evil. Belyy’s death would perhaps put a small piece of Airk’s soul back for the killing.

Forget diplomacy. This is what he should have been doing all along.

Killing the man who’d once been Zilant’s personal bodyguard yesterday had not assuaged anything, but that had to be because of how it had happened. He’d found that asshole hiding in a small village in the most northern part of Siberia. The Unnamed Mountain, where most dragons preferred not to live. Hells, it even remained unnamed because it was insignificant, so why bother. Even with their fire…too cold.

The ex-guard—a coward who’d stood outside the room the day Pytheios killed his king, never once coming inside to find out what all the ruckus was about—hadn’t even defended himself, almost as though waiting for his life to end this way all this time. If Airk licked his lips, he could still taste the blood that had splattered his face.

A knock at the door was answered by Samael, who glanced down the hall before ushering Airk inside.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asked.

Each trip, he took with him easy-to-travel food and an extra set of clothes, all packed in a modern backpack, in which he’d stuffed various other items—a knife, water bottle, toilet paper, poison. Plus other items in the pockets of his utility pants. One never knew, and it was best to be prepared. “I am ready.”

Meira was already in the mirrored room. Black-tipped flames—the color of her mate—danced across her fingertips as she stared into the reflection.

An enticing image of Angelika covered in white fire filled his mind.

Not real, because she’d never lit on fire. This was pushed at him by his dragon and wishful thinking. He knocked the picture from his head as fast as it showed. He’d seen the image of her face in the midst of taking a knife to that ex-guard’s throat, too. His dragon was determined to make him think of her all the fucking time.

A distraction he couldn’t afford.

Samael clapped him on the shoulder, and Airk had to swallow a snarl before it could rip out of his throat. Touching was still a trigger after so long without. Only Angelika’s touch didn’t set him off. Or…not in that way, at least.

Samael lifted his hand immediately, though he didn’t comment. “Are you still sure this is what you want to do?”

“Mrrrow.” The small cat appeared out of nowhere, winding around his ankles.

Samael cleared his throat and picked the creature up, holding it against his chest.

“I have proven effective at it already,” Airk answered the question still hanging out there.

“That doesn’t make it easy for you. Killing your own kind.”

“Traitors who let all this happen?” Airk stuffed the small twinge left over, the image of that guard’s eyes right before he killed him, down in the same hole with his dragon and emotions. “It is what I should have done to start with.”

Samael nodded slowly, then looked to Meira, who placed her hand on the mirror. She didn’t have to, but Airk had noticed that she did when she wanted to be pinpoint accurate in the location she sent him to.

Which she would need to be. This time she was placing him directly inside a mountain rather than on the outskirts.

As soon as she connected with the glass, the image changed, revealing a beautifully luxurious room beyond. Not unlike Meira and Samael’s suite within Ararat but more opulent. Marble floors covered by fur rugs, gilded light fixtures…and was that a dragon carved from alabaster in the corner?

“Where is he?” Airk asked, referring to his mark.

“Currently in his lover’s chambers.”

Airk nodded. Samael’s contacts had come through with information, including the fact that Belyy kept a human lover inside his mountain. Not one who showed dragon sign, either. The human remained in a clandestine chamber, never emerging, but that’s where the white dragon spent much of his time.

Their information also told them that Belyy would return to his own suite in the middle of the night to wash away her scent before sleeping. He would not expect Airk to be waiting.

Deadly purpose settled into him, and he leaned into the emotion. He would look this traitor in the eye while he slid his dagger between his ribs, then twist and twist until Belyy was too weak from blood loss to heal himself. Then, and only then, would he snap the man’s neck.

Even dragon healing couldn’t do anything about that.

Raising a hand in farewell to both Meira and Samael, he stepped through the open mirror, then turned to face them. “I will see you in a week.”

Several corrupted leaders cowered inside this mountain, and he intended to take the life of each and every one. Enough, hopefully, to cause chaos within the ancient halls. It would be up to the three allied kings to take it while it lay exposed as soon as he gave the signal. Then he planned to move on to the next man on his list.

“Be careful,” Meira cautioned.

She lifted her hand from the mirror, and suddenly he was staring at a hideous mirror edged in gilded bones. Those of other creatures. Airk had seen enough of them in the dungeons of Everest to know, but he couldn’t do anything for those poor souls. Then or now.

He could only punish those responsible.

The first thing Airk did was check every room. He trusted Meira, but he had to be sure he was truly alone. Belyy had certainly appointed himself the best of the suites within the mountain, greedy fuck.

He frowned over the oddly familiar scent inside the common living area at the center of the suite. Who had Belyy been hosting?

Airk narrowed his focus. Based on a vague memory of visiting this mountain with his father as a boy, he was fairly certain this had been the king’s chambers when the royal family visited. Not that they did often. The Unnamed Mountain was more of an outpost…or a punishment. What did Belyy do when King Volos would come to visit this mountain? Although perhaps Volos, the recently deceased puppet king, loyal to Pytheios before his clan, hadn’t bothered to inspect his mountains or visit the people he ruled.

Did that mean Belyy’s power was even more than a typical Tribune?

Assured that he was alone and that no recording devices existed inside the suite, he determined the best place to lay his trap.

The last thing he could allow to happen was to have Belyy run to the perch outside the large window in the living area. From there, the man could shift, call for help from his guards, or fly away, and Airk would have no way to defend against shifted dragons, or even multiple in their human form, if they came to take him.

Likely, however, that the man would come in from that direction, being the fastest way to reach these levels.

With that in mind, Airk decided to tuck himself into a small room, one of several family or guest bedrooms, at the opposite end of the suite from the bedchamber Belyy used. By the stale smell, the spaces went unused. From the doorway, he had a view down a dark hallway of the living area Belyy would have to pass through to get to his bedroom on the other side, regardless of which entrance he used to access the suite. Once the man was inside and had gone to bathe, Airk would corner him there.

Likely hours from now.

Best if he spent the night in here, containing his own scent to a space that his mark shouldn’t need to visit. He took three steps toward the small hallway, then paused as a stronger, now entirely familiar perfume drifted through the open window.

One whose presence here was impossible—sunlight and summer and fresh air.

Angelika.

Was he descending into madness, scenting her everywhere now? Sheer white curtains covering the windowed door out to the dragon’s perch in the atrium suddenly blew in a wisp of breeze, and he caught the outline of a woman. She stood on the other side of the glass, looking inside. Watching him.

Airk’s dragon roared to the fore, and he clenched his jaw, holding himself together, but a spike of unaccustomed fear—for her—managed to break through. “Angelika?”

She parted the curtains and stepped through, white hair braided in a crown across the top of her head, moving cautiously, gaze wary.

Of him.

She lifted her determined little chin in the air. “Don’t be mad.”