Chapter 79: KISS ME

The sound of metal scraping against metal rang through the dungeon.

Keira dragged her claws down the bars again, slower this time, feeling for weakness, for give, for anything that wasn’t the Queen’s magic locking her in place. Sparks flickered briefly where claw met enchanted iron, then died just as quickly.

The cage didn’t so much as budge.

Behind her, mounted on the far wall like some sick trophy, Lita’s head stared back with glassy eyes.

Keira refused to turn, refused to look, refused to give them the satisfaction.

Her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, her body trembling with the kind of rage that didn’t burn out, didn’t fade, just coiled tighter and tighter until it had nowhere left to go.

Maren and Faye.

Alive or dead, she didn’t know right now.

That was the worst of it, the not knowing.

Her legs gave out beneath her, and she dropped to the cold stone, dragging in a breath that shook on the way down. Her claws retracted, and her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms as heat gathered behind her eyes.

She forced it back.

Through the narrow slit in the wall, the moon was climbing slowly into view.

There was a red shimmer threaded through it, subtle at first, then deepening.

A memory brushed her mind, faint and distant. Nana’s voice, low and steady, telling stories by firelight of the wicked moon.

Hold tight, little one.

Cairo’s voice slid through her, steady where everything else was breaking.

Valen comes with his army. The King will fall; have faith.

Keira’s throat was dry.

“He rides with his betrothed,” she murmured under her breath. “I saw through your eyes. She looks like a queen already.”

A pause.

Then Cairo, quieter this time.

She is not you. She is not the one he rides for.

Keira closed her eyes.

“That doesn’t change what I saw.”

We are close, Cairo continued, firmer now. The horde is near.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

A low rumble answered her.

Always.

Silence settled again, thick and suffocating, until it was broken by heavy footsteps.

Keira pushed to her feet as the guards approached, keys jangling at their belts, their expressions already telling her everything she needed to know.

“The King wants you,” one of them said. “Try anything, and your friends die. They’re already at the chopping block.”

Her stomach dropped, sharp and immediate.

So that was the game he still wanted to play.

They led her up through twisting stone corridors until the air shifted and opened into the night.

They had taken her to the battlements, now bathed in a soft crimson light.

Wind swept across the high walls, sharp and cold, tugging at her hair as the red moon loomed overhead, staining everything in a dull glow.

The King stood waiting with the Queen beside him. A madman in the flesh.

Keira’s chest tightened, but her face gave away nothing.

“Ah,” the King drawled, turning toward her with a smile that never reached his eyes. “The wildcat learns to behave.”

He gestured lazily.

“Go on. Wave to your friends down below.”

Inside the castle, towards the executioner's block, Keira could see them. Her friends, Maren and Faye, kneeling, the axeman standing behind them.

His smile thinned.

“One wrong move,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice dropping so only she could hear, “and I paint those stones with what’s left of them.”

She wouldn’t give him a reaction, but she was relieved they were alive, for now.

“Yes, I understand,” she said through clenched teeth.

His grin returned, wider this time.

“Good girl.”

Keira said nothing.

She didn’t look at him again.

“If you listen,” he continued, louder now, spreading his arms, “you’ll hear him coming. Your barbarian.”

A low tremor rolled through the air, distant but growing.

“Don’t mistake this for salvation,” the King added, “Not with my Queen standing at my side.”

Keira’s gaze shifted.

The Queen was trembling like a leaf, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her lips moved in a whisper that didn’t match the moment. Her eyes landed on Keira, and she tried to convey something she couldn’t quite grasp just as a familiar voice cut through the air.

“George…”

Selene drifted onto the battlements, a thigh-high slit dress clinging to her body in a way no Queen would wear, her hips rolling as she walked, and a smile on her face that looked like victory.

She pressed a kiss to the King’s mouth.

He recoiled slightly.

“Filthy.”

Selene laughed, low and amused.

“As are you,” she winked.

Keira’s lip curled in a sneer.

She should have killed her when she had the chance.

“Wildgirl, looks like I win. Maren and Faye can’t save you now.”

Keira gave her a death stare.

Below, the ground trembled harder now.

A rising storm of sound thundered closer, the horde.

“I see the castle,” Cairo’s voice came again, threaded with something darker now. We are upon it.

Keira stepped closer to the edge despite herself.

And she saw him, a wargod in the flesh.

Valen, at the head of it all, his presence cutting through the chaos as his men surged behind him.

Her heart lurched and then broke.

Beside him rode a woman who looked like she belonged there; she already knew who it was.

Brenda.

Keira’s stomach turned violently, something bitter rising up her throat as she tore her gaze away.

The King noticed.

“Oh,” he said, delighted. “It seems your barbarian lover has found better company. I do hope you didn’t give your precious virginity to such a dirty animal.”

Keira said nothing; she couldn’t.

“Hold!” the King's commander shouted.

The soldiers along the battlements raised their bows, aiming for Valen’s men.

Below, Valen’s army thundered forward.

“Now!”

Arrows filled the sky.

At the same time, the Queen’s voice changed.

No longer a whisper, a chant.

Magic surged outward from her, visible this time, a ripple that spread across the castle walls like chains snapping into place.

Every gate, every entrance was sealed.

Keira stared.

The Queen swayed where she stood, sweat already slipping down her temple, her breathing uneven.

She’s not doing this by choice; he is forcing her hand, the same as mine.

Below, the horde raised their shields, the arrows clattering harmlessly against them as they pressed forward to the castle's entrances.

The King snapped his fingers.

“Use fire arrows.”

“The barrier works both ways,” the Queen choked out, her voice thin and strained. “You will trap us with the fire; there will be no escape.”

He stopped, momentarily annoyed.

He’s not sane, thought Keira. A mad dog that needs to be put down.

Valen dismounted below, stepping forward, his voice carrying across the distance.

“Come down and face me, King George!” roared Valen. “Let’s see who the best man is.”

The challenge rang clear, but the King just laughed.

“No. I don’t think I will.”

He grabbed Keira by the arm and dragged her forward into full view.

Valen stilled.

“It seems,” the King called, “I’ve already won what we all desire.”

His grip tightened.

“Try anything,” he whispered in her ear, “and they die.”

Keira didn’t react or try to fight.

Her eyes found Brenda again and held until they locked with hers,

Valen’s voice cut through it.

“This is a trick.”

He moved at once, charging the gate alone.

And was thrown back by an unseen force, the magic snapping him off his feet and sending him crashing hard into the ground.

The King laughed again, louder now, drunk on it.

“The Warcat chooses me, you fool, and we all know what that means.”

Victory before the war had even begun.

He turned back to Keira, stepping closer, his breath foul against her skin.

“Kiss me,” he said softly.

“Or I let them die.”

The wind howled across the battlements, sharp and restless, tugging at her hair, carrying the scent of blood and war and something else she couldn’t quite place.

Keira didn’t look at the King or Valen; she couldn’t move.

But something inside her shifted.

And far beyond the walls, a beast was moving closer.

I remember now, Nana warned of the blood moon.

“Keira,” Valen shouted out.

She looked down at him as the King pulled her close, his voice in her ear.

“Kiss me now, or choose which one of your friends dies next.”