Cold Queen - K Webster Page 0,46
and Westa, forbidding such practice in all corners of our world.
She lifts up and frowns. “There always have been and always will be The Damned. You make sure of it.”
“Not me. My father. His father. And so on. Never me.”
“Why not?”
“My mother…” My voice cracks at the mention of her. “She was feral and hungry. A truly disgraced queen, sent away by her tyrant husband because she loved another.”
“Oh, Ryke,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“I killed her. What was left of her anyway. I vowed then I would find a more civil way to punish those who disobeyed the law. Danser has always helped me rule justly, as my mother would have wanted. I am the Truth Seeker, not a creator of The Damned like my father.”
She leans forward and kisses me. “There will always be traitors and murderers and rapists. Someone will need to punish them.”
“You’ll simply be The Punisher?”
“Simply so.”
“I don’t know what awaits in the Hidden Lands, but I assure you my heart won’t rest until I seek it out for myself.”
“We’ll seek it out together. Always together, Volc.”
I pull her over me and we make love so I can watch her perfect tits bounce as the snow falls all around her.
Beautiful.
My fiery, cold queen.
Elzira
A few days later…
The horse ride past Norta Layke and through the mountain passageway toward the Hidden Lands is quiet. Ryke is determined, aware, and fierce as ever. Despite earning a husband out of the deal, I can’t help but feel the bleeding loss inside of me.
My sister.
Cavon.
Two people whom I cared for most in this world betrayed me.
It’s not something you simply get over. Only time will heal those wounds. Until I reach that time, I will continue onward with my king. As if he’s inside my head, he darts his head my way, his amber eyes flaring with concern.
Before he can speak, Jorshi gallops our way from ahead. “There were a few lingering of The Damned, but that’s not our problem.”
Ryke uncoils his whip from his hip and trots over to Jorshi. “What is our problem?”
“Pariahs. Untouchables. Lost ones. They lack the madness, but they’re every bit as untamed and feral,” Jorshi explains.
“I thought we might run into these groups,” Ryke grumbles. “How many?”
“They’re in clusters,” Jorshi explains. “Small ones. But we can’t just k—”
I take off at full gallop, the sound of my horse clomping through the snow silencing the rest of his words. If these lost ones are in need of destroying, they will meet The Punisher.
Ryke calls out after me, but I lean down, closer to the horse, and inspect the trees ahead of me. A man steps out from the tree line and holds up a bow, pointing it at me. It catches flame before he can fire it and Ryke bursts past me. Several more men emerge from the trees and Ryke strikes out at them with his powerful whip, knocking them down long enough for me to shoot diamondblade spikes through their hearts. When I hear sounds coming from beyond the tree line, I guide my horse farther toward it.
“Mama!” a small voice cries out.
I come to a trot, staring in shock and horror at the people caged in wooden jails. All women and small children. They look at me as though I’m here to save them.
“Get the white-haired bitch!” a portly man yells from behind me.
His head flies from his shoulders and rolls toward one of the cages. I lock eyes with Danser and he nods as he swipes the blood from his sword. Danser and Ryke take off, chasing after a group of men with weapons. I slide off my horse and walk over to the cage where a woman near my age eyes me warily.
“Are you their prisoner?” I demand.
She nods. “Unfairly so.”
“What was your crime?”
“Being a woman. The Untouchables see women as currency.” She looks over her shoulder at a small child who whimpers in the corner. “The children are worse off.”
“You’re used as currency? What happens when you’re cashed in?”
The woman rubs her stomach.
“And the children are worse off, why?” I whisper.
“The men enjoy fresh meat and The Damned cleared most of the lands of game,” she says harshly, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m growing food for the monsters.”
My stomach clenches violently.
The Untouchables eat their own kind.
They eat children.
No.
No. No. No. No.
These are the fabled “monsters” in the Moral War.
When I was a child, I asked about the Hidden Lands. Father said it was overrun by The Damned, but they