The king averted his gaze, his cheeks reddening. “You are more destructive than I ever was.”
“Tsk-tsk,” Kaysar replied in a singsong voice, earning moans of pain. “You cannot make the monster, then complain when it bites you.”
Hador scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for what occurred between us, Kaysar. So incredibly sorry. You must know that.”
Do not close the distance. Do not rip out his heart. He deserved only suffering heaped upon suffering.
Kaysar schooled his features. “Ah. We’ve reached the excuses portion of our interactions. My least favorite, I must admit, but please. Do continue. This always precedes your harm by my hand.”
A lone tear slid down the king’s cheek, quickly followed by another. “I assure you, I’ve paid for my crimes a thousand times over.”
“Do tell. Fill my ears with your miseries.”
A muscle jumped in Hador’s jaw. He offered no response, just heaved his breaths.
Because he was a liar, and he had not paid enough.
“I’ve changed,” the king insisted. “I’ve learned the value of life.”
“You’ve learned the value of nothing.”
Once again, the doors burst open. Everyone turned to face the newest intruder. Kaysar went still as a stern-faced Chantel marched into the room. She’d anchored her mass of sable hair into a severe knot at her nape. Not a single strand of pink. A voluminous black robe draped her.
He shot to his feet, aware of a hammering pulse migrating through his body. Such power. Such passion and beauty. She was a fae queen without equal. A velvet-covered blade. A woman beyond compare, and every sexual fantasy he’d ever had come to life.
Why hadn’t he savored her these past nights?
Why hadn’t she savored him?
The fierce glaze in her mercury eyes struck him as slightly demented, and he nearly dropped to his knees to worship at her feet.
She climbed the dais steps and crossed over, stopping at the throne. She held his gaze, telling him with a firm voice, “Please, excuse me.” The request fit her actions but not the added weight in her tone, as if she asked for multiple pardons at once.
He moved aside, waving toward her throne and bowing his head. “Your majesty.”
She sat with quiet authority, magnificent with her back ramrod straight. “Shall we proceed?”
Vines shot from the floor, marble slabs flying. The stalks snagged the two men and their guards in punishing vise-grips. Poisonvine thorns injected venom directly into their veins, preventing them from flittering. Or moving. Wet crimson dripped upon emerald leaves.
“Micah,” she said, using that same uncompromising tone, “I’ll start with you.”
As the thorns retracted, the frozen man eked out, “What gives you the right—”
“The Dusklands are mine,” she interrupted sharply. “I can do what you never could. Revitalize the land. Perhaps you heard the laughter outside on your way in? Or noticed the garden? It’s the first of many.”
The pounding cadence in his head that screamed for retribution...weakened as she spoke. Kaysar was unsure what was happening. Or how. Whatever it was...soothed his battered mind.
Micah scowled, saying nothing.
Chantel banged a fist on the arm of the throne. “With that settled, the First District Court of the Dusklands is now in session. The perfect Judge Cookie presiding. Micah the Former King, how do you plead?”
* * *
A CAULDRON OF rage boiled inside Cookie. What Hador and his brother had done to young Kaysar sickened her. The Winter king would be dealt with. Soon.
After her visions of Kaysar’s past, she understood him so much better. He stood beside her, a strong tower. And yet he’d never needed her more. Today, he settled his case. Tomorrow, she settled hers.
Had the peek into the past steered their future, as she’d feared? Oh, yes. Everything changed today.
Cookie frowned as the silence stretched on, everyone looking at everyone else for answers. She waved an imperious hand. “This is the part where you enter your plea, Micah.”
“Plea for what?” he demanded. “I plead for nothing.”
“You are charged with the crime of attacking the future and current king and queen of the Dusklands upon their arrival. Fair warning. I’m also the witness of the crime, so I’m going to be difficult to sway.”
Micah bellowed, “You are not the king and queen of—”
“So you plead guilty?” She scanned the room and nodded. “Everyone else heard guilty, yes?”
“We attacked the maddened king who randomly appears in the Dusklands to ravage our fields and destroy our beasts,” he spat. “The help and the hindrance we will hide from no longer.”