I will gut him where he sits. Kaysar gripped the arms of the throne, barely able to hold himself back. “I told you to never speak of her.”
“Would you welcome a revelation about her? Because I’m willing to admit she’s yours. That much is clear. Your insanity complements hers, and I wish you both the best. I have no desire to take her from you. I’d prefer to...help you. To make amends for what I failed to do as a child.”
Help Kaysar? Fury churned deep, soon to erupt. “I need nothing from you. You cannot make amends.”
The front doors swung open without warning. Eye rushed inside the room, calling, “Sorry to interrupt, my king, but Hador and Micah have arrived, and they are mere seconds behind me.”
Finally. Every inhalation dagger-sharp, Kaysar lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. The prince was forgotten.
As soon as Kaysar had received word from Eye, he’d called off his guards. Nothing would hinder this meeting.
The oracle halted at the side of the throne, a fine glaze of perspiration glistening on her dark skin. “I would have gotten here sooner, but Cookie wished to change her clothes.” She winced. “My sincerest apologies for her latest choice, majesty.”
What aspect of her magnificent personality had she chosen to emphasize for the coming battle?
For the second time, the doors swung open. Excitement spun through him as King Hador Frostline and Micah marched in, their heads high. They’d forgone armor for the meeting, selecting tunics and leathers instead, as if they had no fear of Kaysar’s claws. Eight guards trailed them. Four fae, four trolls. The paltry number irritated him. Had he lost his edge? Were people getting comfortable around him?
Only Chantel had the right!
Hatred sharpened Kaysar’s focus as he met Hador’s ugly gaze. The urge to kill frothed inside him, reviled memories surging and crashing.
Wandering, grasping hands. Ragged pants. Hot breath on his flesh.
Growls brewed. Hurt him. Make him suffer. Yes. Kaysar would coat his skin in his enemy’s blood and dance to screams of his agony.
“What a wonderful non-surprise.” Pasting on an indulgent smile, Kaysar motioned to Eye. “Shall I send my oracle for refreshments now or after you’ve screamed in pain for a bit?”
“We won’t be staying long,” Micah replied. Either he read lips at this close range, or he’d taken the drug to deafen himself again. He dropped his gaze to the doll and blinked.
A tell of recognition? Confusion? Which, which? Kaysar struggled to mask his anxiety.
Hador pointed to Jareth. “I won’t leave without my son.”
To his credit, the prince remained seated, appearing furious about his father’s arrival. “I am where you should be. Unless you’d like to switch places, I won’t be going anywhere.”
The king narrowed his eyes but said nothing else.
Though the byplay bothered Kaysar, he maintained his indulgent expression. Where was Chantel?
“Leave the Dusklands of your own volition, King Kaysar.” Micah’s command boomed through the room. “I have no wish to destroy my kingdom and rebuild from the foundation up yet again. But I can and will do so if you force my hand. I won’t allow you to rule over innocent, hardworking people.”
How to explain this in a way the male would understand? “If you strike at me or mine, even once, the kingdom will be destroyed. I’ll make sure of it.”
Micah’s cheeks lost all color.
“Now that pleasantries are over.” Careful. No hint of urgency. “Do you recognize little Drendall, Micah?” He set the doll on the throne’s arm, allowing her big eyes to stare at the intruders.
The usurper’s gaze returned to Viori’s former companion, his brows drawing together. “Should I?”
Genuine perplexity? Kaysar barely stopped himself from ripping at hanks of his hair. He’d known the possibility was minute. He’d desperately hoped otherwise. “The doll belonged to my sister, long ago. One way or another, I will ferret out the truth of her time in the Dusklands.” Best to be clear. “Any who harmed her will soon seek the sweet release of death. Those who lie about an association with her will never find it.”
“Harm a child? A female?” Micah scoffed. “Never. The rules of my kingdom are simple.”
Kaysar...believed him. But the unsatisfactory exchange stripped another layer of civility from him. “Your choice of teammate confuses me.”
“Enough war,” Hador shouted. “I’m tired of fighting you, Kaysar, but I will help Micah oversee your defeat if I must.”
“You’re tired of fighting?” The words left him as little more than a whisper. “Well, let’s give the child rapist what he wants.”