Read Online Alterant by Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dianna Love - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dianna Love
Ads: Link
His abrupt stop sent the hem of his cherry-red robe whipping around his skinny ankles. “Is it true or not?”
Flaevynn now lounged on the onyx and gold chair carved in the shape of a dragon. Her eyes gleamed with a predator’s confidence and her voice dropped low with threat. “You know the answer to that or you would not be here. As you can see, my enforcer waits to give her report. State your business and be quick, elder.”
His mouth pinched tight as a raisin. “This realm exists to shield us while we fulfill our duties according to the timeline set forth. The hostility myst was not to be used this soon. You endanger all of us by rushing ahead without knowing the entire prophecy.”
“It’s a curse, not a prophecy,” Flaevynn snarled at him. “I will not sit quietly as my death approaches and condemn yet another queen to my fate.”
Kizira doubted any altruistic intentions on Flaevynn’s part about future queens.
Undeterred by Flaevynn’s caustic bite, Gruin argued, “I am your advisor—”
Flaevynn cut him off with, “I don’t recall asking for your advice, old man.” She pointed a long black fingernail sprinkled with diamonds at him.
He backed up a step, then froze as if his feet wouldn’t move. “I’m an elder . . . protected by Cathb—”
Flaevynn swirled her finger in a tiny circle.
Kizira had never heard of an elder being killed, as the punishment for harming one was severe, but with Cathbad in the dungeon there was no one else powerful enough to intimidate Flaevynn.
Gruin’s lips yanked open. He started gagging as his tongue slid out, stretching until the pink flesh narrowed to the thickness of a pencil. A strangled cry squealed from his throat when his tongue began looping into a knot. From nowhere, a thin metal spike appeared and drove down through his tongue between the knot and his mouth.
Blood from the wound ran down his chin, spiking the air with a coppery scent.
He fell to his knees, fingers gouging his throat. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks. A pitiful sound streaked past his constant gagging. His face turned deep red before he fell forward on the marble floor and stopped moving . . . or breathing.
Kizira felt Flaevynn’s eyes on her, observing . . . judging. The queen punished weakness. Any aid Kizira might offer would only make this worse for the elder as well as herself.
Tapping into the role she’d created so long ago for survival, Kizira smiled at Flaevynn when she remarked, “I hadn’t considered the spike. Effective and brutal. Nicely done.”
Flaevynn appeared satisfied, almost smiling. She glanced down at the inert form, made a sound of disgust and snapped her fingers.
The elder jerked, then started gasping and coughing. He struggled to his knees, breathing hard through his open mouth now that his tongue had been released. Blood coated his thin lips.
Flaevynn told him, “I allow you to breathe again so that you can take my warning back to the other elders. Do not interfere where you are not needed or invited.” She looked from him to the entrance, where two guards built like ancient Spartans stood. They each hooked one of the elder’s arms and walked out carrying him between them.
Flaevynn moved her hand to the right of her throne and held it there until a young man with black hair and a perfect body appeared. He wore leather chaps and a silver choker. The punishment collar consisted of spiked links that would stab the man’s neck when anyone yanked on the braided silver rope dangling from the choker.
The queen gave the rope a light tug, and the collar pricked bloody spots on the young man’s skin.
He didn’t so much as flinch, and, like a well-trained animal, he turned his body to face her throne.
Flaevynn believed that a constant supply of young men in her bed would keep her beautiful and desirable,but she had no control over aging . . . or the last day of her predestined life.
Not without conquering Treoir Island first.
“You’ve
Flaevynn now lounged on the onyx and gold chair carved in the shape of a dragon. Her eyes gleamed with a predator’s confidence and her voice dropped low with threat. “You know the answer to that or you would not be here. As you can see, my enforcer waits to give her report. State your business and be quick, elder.”
His mouth pinched tight as a raisin. “This realm exists to shield us while we fulfill our duties according to the timeline set forth. The hostility myst was not to be used this soon. You endanger all of us by rushing ahead without knowing the entire prophecy.”
“It’s a curse, not a prophecy,” Flaevynn snarled at him. “I will not sit quietly as my death approaches and condemn yet another queen to my fate.”
Kizira doubted any altruistic intentions on Flaevynn’s part about future queens.
Undeterred by Flaevynn’s caustic bite, Gruin argued, “I am your advisor—”
Flaevynn cut him off with, “I don’t recall asking for your advice, old man.” She pointed a long black fingernail sprinkled with diamonds at him.
He backed up a step, then froze as if his feet wouldn’t move. “I’m an elder . . . protected by Cathb—”
Flaevynn swirled her finger in a tiny circle.
Kizira had never heard of an elder being killed, as the punishment for harming one was severe, but with Cathbad in the dungeon there was no one else powerful enough to intimidate Flaevynn.
Gruin’s lips yanked open. He started gagging as his tongue slid out, stretching until the pink flesh narrowed to the thickness of a pencil. A strangled cry squealed from his throat when his tongue began looping into a knot. From nowhere, a thin metal spike appeared and drove down through his tongue between the knot and his mouth.
Blood from the wound ran down his chin, spiking the air with a coppery scent.
He fell to his knees, fingers gouging his throat. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks. A pitiful sound streaked past his constant gagging. His face turned deep red before he fell forward on the marble floor and stopped moving . . . or breathing.
Kizira felt Flaevynn’s eyes on her, observing . . . judging. The queen punished weakness. Any aid Kizira might offer would only make this worse for the elder as well as herself.
Tapping into the role she’d created so long ago for survival, Kizira smiled at Flaevynn when she remarked, “I hadn’t considered the spike. Effective and brutal. Nicely done.”
Flaevynn appeared satisfied, almost smiling. She glanced down at the inert form, made a sound of disgust and snapped her fingers.
The elder jerked, then started gasping and coughing. He struggled to his knees, breathing hard through his open mouth now that his tongue had been released. Blood coated his thin lips.
Flaevynn told him, “I allow you to breathe again so that you can take my warning back to the other elders. Do not interfere where you are not needed or invited.” She looked from him to the entrance, where two guards built like ancient Spartans stood. They each hooked one of the elder’s arms and walked out carrying him between them.
Flaevynn moved her hand to the right of her throne and held it there until a young man with black hair and a perfect body appeared. He wore leather chaps and a silver choker. The punishment collar consisted of spiked links that would stab the man’s neck when anyone yanked on the braided silver rope dangling from the choker.
The queen gave the rope a light tug, and the collar pricked bloody spots on the young man’s skin.
He didn’t so much as flinch, and, like a well-trained animal, he turned his body to face her throne.
Flaevynn believed that a constant supply of young men in her bed would keep her beautiful and desirable,but she had no control over aging . . . or the last day of her predestined life.
Not without conquering Treoir Island first.
“You’ve
Similar Books
