Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King (30 page)

Gloria glowered at me.  “Oh, you’re so wicked.”

“Takes one to know one.”  But I was talking to myself, for with a burst of vampire speed, she’d strong-armed Adrian out of the room, vanishing in a blur.

THIRTY-TWO

“Second chances need to be

paid for.  I don’t do ‘free.’”

                                                  —Caine Deathwalker

About to step into the keep’s Great Hall, I sent golden magic into the ink of my Dragon Sight tattoo, heating the surrounding skin, tingling the nerves.  The activating magic exacted its penalty of pain: a sensation that razor wire coiling around my colon, about to burst out my ass. 

The psychic impression thinned to nothing. 

I drew a deep breath and went in.  The great space was filling from the far side.  I walked forward past the double thrones and moved right around the fire pit.  Several of my higher ranking demon captains nodded a greeting.  We’d never stood on formalities.  That was more a vamp or fey thing.  Speaking of which…

Izumi and her mother were sipping red wine from flutes, occupying a knot of fey gentry.  Izumi wore a white silk gown with diamonds winking in her styled hair.  A silver snowflake necklace glittered on the generous slope of her breasts.  Matching earrings hung from her earlobes.  Her laugh was easy and musical, as if the recent carnage she’d participated in couldn’t touch her.

The vamps had their own clique going.  Gloria and Adrian had brought human attendants, blood donors eagerly baring their necks in service.  Adrian had been persuaded to exchange his jacket with another guest.  The one he wore was acid green and looked a little big on him.  He looked a little like a child playing dress up.  The flash of angry fire in his eyes showed he resented the change forced on him.  That made me happy.

I noticed my dragon kin were in attendance, and that they were mocking me, having shown up in steampunk attire as if this were a science fiction convention.  The tight corsets on the women, the Victorian apocalyptic chic, somehow balanced the fey opulence.  I don’t think my family realized I liked this sort of thing.  Drake was seated at a table, stuffing his face with roasted game hen and candied carrots using a hand and arm covered with hardware that made it look like the steampunk equivalent of an exo-skeletal limb.  The intricacy of the get-up let me know this wasn’t a slapped together rig. 

Maybe Drake is a real fan, and I’m being too sensitive.

But there was Kinsey, watching me for a reaction. 

I smiled with little energy, waved once, and immediately looked elsewhere as if my family held little interest for me.

My were-kitties were by the buffet table, sniffing over the sushi and California rolls.  Angie was with them as well as the Fenris.  Gumbo and the rest of my security detail were sampling the fey food at the other end of the serving tables. 

Vivian and her Grandfather stood apart from everyone, looking uncomfortable in a room full of
monsters
that they weren’t allowed to kill.  Even though it was a party, the ex-slayers were covered in weapons, drawing nervous glances from the Winter Court guards.  Without stakes or crucifixes handy, I didn’t think Vivian could have felt comfortable.

There were fey and demon magic-users mingling, talking shop, and every now and then, I caught the red flash of Selene in a mini-dress drifting through the crowd.  They didn’t seem aware of her.  At one point, she ghosted past Izumi, giving my fey queen a cold stare that promised nothing good.  The crowd shifted and Selene was gone.  I turned toward the pile of kegs, deciding I needed fortification, and found myself nose to nose with the Red Lady.

“She’s all right, I suppose, for a lesser breed, but don’t you get tired of having to thaw her out just to fuck?” Selene asked.

“Ladies aren’t supposed to say ‘fuck,’” I said, “not in public.  I think it’s in the official guidebook or something.”

Selene slid her hands past my ribs, pulling me into an embrace.  “If ladies fuck, they ought to be able to say the word.”

I shrugged.  “Don’t look at me.  I didn’t write the rules.”

“Who did?  I’ll strangle them with their own intestines.”

“I already have the entertainment planned out.”  I held Selene tightly, knowing she was a wild beast at heart, beyond my control.  I danced her casually toward the barrels of booze.  The fey cider was supposed to be particularly good. 

She kissed the edge of my jaw and murmured in my ear.  “Are you planning to screw your frigid fuck-toy over there on her throne?  It is a nice throne, but it would look better with me sitting there.”

“I try not to whip out my cock with other guys around; it’s too dispiriting for them to know they have such an impossible standard to meet.”

“Don’t you feel though that it’s a bit like having three legs?”

“I don’t mind being a freak in a good way.  I think of it as nature’s compensation to me for making me under tall.”  I released her, reached over to an attendant’s tray, and snagged two mugs, offering one to Selene.  “You aren’t going to make trouble for me here, are you?”

“Trouble?  Me?”  She looked totally scandalized, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, an open invitation for my cock if there ever was one.  I was sorely tempted to drag her away and abuse the back of her throat.

She said, “This is a celebration of your triumph over the first of many kingdoms that are destined to fall.  I would never spoil what you have earned.  These sluts are your toys.  I know that.  Only I am your soulmate.  You just remember that, my Lord.”  The inflection she gave the title loaded it with amused mockery.

I gave her a cold, hard stare.  “You are a bitch,” I said.  “My bitch.  Keep it up and I will spank your ass raw.”

“Promises, promises…”

I drained my cup and handed it back to the attendant. 

From the embarrassed, fearful look on his face, it appeared he couldn’t see Selene, and had misinterpreted my statements.  Doubtless, he believed his ass to be in grave danger. 

“I was, uh, practicing a speech, for someone else, later.  Let’s not speak of this to anyone.”

He looked relieved.  “As my lord commands.”

I looked back toward Selene.  She was gone.  I suspected she wasn’t far. 

My sweeping glance hit Izumi.  She smiled.  The crowd around her split open as I walked up to her.  She reached out.  I took her hand.  Her palm was cold, her grip firm.  She drew me beside her, turning us so we faced her mother. 

“It is time,” Queen Kellyn said.  “If you will take your places on the dais…”

I drew Izumi with me, aware that the room was quieting.  We went past the fire pit to the dais and climbed up, turning in front of the thrones to face the room.  Kellyn stood just short of the steps, waiting as Lysande approached with a blue velvet cushion in her arms.  On the pillow were the two crowns she’d designed.  One at a time, Kellyn picked them up, inspecting them for danger. The tightening around Lysande’s lips indicated she resented this.

Tough.

I glanced at the crowns.  My
Dragon Sight
tallied up their worth, but detected no enchantments.  That was good; I wouldn’t have to kill Lysande for failing me a second time.  I don’t like literally wasting hot fucks.

Kellyn nodded and stepped up on the dais with Lysande matching her.  The queen lifted my crown and held it between us.  She said, “Chosen by the Land, this crown is a symbol of the bond that is in place.  Let all who would live upon this land give homage to its lord.  Let all other Lords and Lands know that this land will be defended from all aggression.”  She lowered her voice.  “Incline your head.”

I leaned forward, bending at the waist.  She settled the crown upon my head.  I straightened.

Kellyn whispered, “Try to say something worthy of a fey lord.”

I smiled at her, but let her see the cold death in my gaze. 

She nodded approval and moved over in front of Izumi.

Looking out at a hall full of allies, some better than others, I let my voice ring out.  By my will and strength, I rule.  By my choice, I take Princess Izumi as my queen.”

Kellyn crowned her daughter and left the dais with Lysande following. 

Izumi reached out again and captured my hand, staking her higher claim in the sight of the other women I often slept with.  Petty, but flattering as well.  I backed to my throne and sat down, drawing Izumi along so she sat beside me.

“Bring in the prisoners,” I ordered.

There was a stir as the guards began to drag in prisoners from the battle.  The fey were wounded for the most part, hands tied behind them, looks of desperation and fear on their faces.  The crowd opened a path.  The first ten were forced to their knees before the dais.  Being low-level conscripts, these warriors had never given direct oath to the lord they served.  That’s why I’d let them live while killing all the higher ranking enemy fey.

I stared down at the prisoners.  “You have shown courage and loyalty to those who have led you to your doom.  If you want to be destroyed, I will accommodate you, but if you want to live, there is a way.”

The looks thrown back at me included defiance, despair, and guarded hope.  One prisoner spat at me.  I nodded at Adrian.  “Thirsty?” I asked him.

“Do your own killing,” he said.  “I’m not your dog.”

I sighed, stood, and advanced to the dais stairs. 

I’ve a seldom-used tattoo near my belly button.  Its original name was
Dragon Pressure,
but in
a moment of weakness—and drunken nakedness—I’d let Izumi talk me into renaming it.  She’d insisted that
Dragon Stomp
was much better.  My golden magic heated the ink.  Pain awoke: the sensation of blood steaming in my veins, bursting them as my lungs combusted.  I stood perfectly still a moment, letting none of this show on my face. 

The sensations passed. 

I went down the stairs to stand in front of the spitter.  I smiled and placed a hand on his head.  He struggled, but I didn’t let him jerk free.  My dragon-born strength was more than a match for his fey nature.  I invoked the power of my
Dragon Stomp
tattoo.  There was a
whump
followed by a
crack
and a
p-pop! 
His skull imploded.  Little spurts of blood and pulverized brain jetted out.  The prisoners beside my victim winced away as if death were catching.

My gaze swept the crowd.  Adrian looked shocked.  Kinsey and Drake seemed intrigued.  Gloria looked bored.  Selene was there in back, a look of feral hunger on her face as if the murder only primed her for more.  Kellyn looked impressed.  There was a stunned silence in the hall—then clapping. 

The fey appreciate a good show.  Hell, everyone does, unless they’re next in line.

I moved to stand in front of the next prisoner.  “If you will pledge personal loyalty to me, I will accept you as a subject.  My kingdom is empty for the most part.  There is plenty of land.  You could build a good life for yourself and family here.”

The prisoner stared at me.  “You’d let me switch sides, just like that?”

“If you give me an absolute promise of loyalty.  You’re fey.  The fey can evade, but not directly lie.  Make me believe you.” 

Multiple emotions flashed across the prisoner’s face, vanishing as he reached a decision.  He nodded to himself.  “Dead, my usefulness to my lord ends anyway.  I will take your offer, my Lord.  I swear unreserved loyalty and will die in your service in exchange for the mercy you offer.  I will live for your best interest to be achieved.”

I nodded at the guard behind the prisoner.  “Free him.”

The guard bent down with a knife in hand.  A moment later, the prisoner’s hands were freed.  He rubbed his wrists. 

I said, “There’s food and drink here.  Help yourself.”

The man looked startled.  “Yes, my Lord.  Thank you.”  He struggled to his feet, bowed, and was allowed to back away.  The next two prisoners gave a similar oath.  The one after that got to sample my modified Vulcan death grip.  His skull imploded.  The headless body slumped.  After that, things went better.

Group followed group until we were done.  The last couple dozen were sent out of the hall to party with the rest of my troops, the hall having grown quite crowded and very noisy.  Izumi and I circulated.  We were over by the food table laid out by the winter fey when one of the attendants offered me a plate of delicacies.  My
Dragon Sight
was still in operation; a little tag appeared that only I could see, a skull and crossbones.  My dragon sense of smell detected arsenic.

I smiled at the attendant, and took the plate, my gaze scanning the nearby fey.  Kellyn went still.  All animation leaving her face, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes.

I whispered, “Gloria.”

She appeared next to me, her broadsword in both hands.  Before the attendant could scream, she was sliced down the middle to the waist.  She split open and toppled backwards.  Her intestines slithered out onto the floor.  Blood pooled quickly, a metallic tang in the air. 

Izumi gasped. 

I handed her the plate.  “Arsenic.  If I were you, I’d warn your mother not to try this again.  She won’t survive my displeasure.” 
Damn, there I go talking like the fey again
.  I tried again.  “I’ll fuck her with a meat clever and feed the pieces to the gators.”