Queen of Destruction Read online

  Queen of Destruction

  A Dark Sleeping Beauty Fairytale Retelling (Queen of Extinction Trilogy Book 2)

  Gwynn White

  Erin St Pierre

  4XOverland Ltd

  Contents

  1. Raith

  2. Aurora

  3. Raith

  4. Raith

  5. Jorah

  6. Raith

  7. Jorah

  8. Aurora

  9. Aurora

  10. Jorah

  11. Raith

  12. Aurora

  13. Raith

  14. Jorah

  15. Raith

  16. Aurora

  17. Raith

  18. Aurora

  19. Raith

  20. Jorah

  21. Raith

  22. Aurora

  23. Raith

  24. Aurora

  25. Raith

  26. Aurora

  27. Raith

  28. Aurora

  About the Author

  Also by Gwynn White

  Copyright © 2017 by Gwynn White and Erin St pierre

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Raith drained his glass of sparkling wine in one mouthful and handed it to the golden-haired whore seated next to him. Maybe his father had been right about alcohol all along. Maybe if he drank enough, his cravings for blood and magic would go away with his senses. He hadn’t had a fix since tasting Aurora’s blood almost a week ago in the eye of the mermaid Guardian. And even then, it hadn’t been enough. Inside the Ryferian border, he hadn’t been able to suck away a shred of her magic.

  Full, pink lips spread in a sultry smile, the whore asked, “Another, my lord?” Light flickered from a dozen candles suspended from the copper chandelier above, catching on the glass jewel in her belly button and her cheap, chunky brass bracelets, a brand every whore in the city wore. They, and the rose tattoos on the back of her hands, identified her to the world as a Ryferian pleasure worker.

  The saloon was deserted except for him, the unnamed girl, and another three pleasure workers, who tittered about pouring sparkling spiced pear wine for him, or lighting sticks of incense. All were beautiful, dressed in transparent gowns in sultry shades of magenta, periwinkle, and dusty scarlet that left little to the imagination. Plunging necklines dipped past their pierced belly buttons. Their pert nipples showed through the thin, cobweb fabric.

  Raith tugged the blond closer. She had a beautiful, slender neck that made his incubus fangs burn in his jaw. Her dress slid up her leg, exposing the side of her smooth thigh. Another place he wanted to bite…to suck…

  He absentmindedly twirled a lock of her hair. It had fallen from her elaborate curling upsweep, held together by pins made of pearl and colored glass. How easy it would be to pull one out and stab it through her neck—

  How could he be thinking like this? Stabbing people was what Carian did, not him.

  “How unsurprising. I thought I might find you here.” Carian leaned nonchalantly against the stone archway leading into the saloon and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “It’s so in character it’s almost comical.”

  Raith groaned, sinking into the plush purple cushions. “Maleficent’s ass, Carian, do you ever knock?” That drink couldn’t get here fast enough. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The second whore—not as attractive as the first, with her mousy brown hair—got up to pour Carian a glass of wine.

  Carian chuckled and rubbed a calloused hand over his face. After days of not shaving, his stubble had turned into a disheveled beard. “We are supposed to be working, brother. But of course, I find you here instead. Whenever you have a problem, you run away and hide in a whorehouse.”

  Raith’s gut twisted at what Carian implied. Coward.

  “Carian, do you have nothing better to do with your time? Leave me alone.” Raith’s tongue flicked over his dry lips. No matter how much water or awful whorehouse wine he drank, nothing could quench his dying thirst. Hunger slid beneath his skin like an asp, burning through his senses with that ever-fervent need. A craving he could never shake. A craving he had Carian to blame for.

  Giggling girlishly, the golden-haired whore sat up straight to survey his younger, stocky brother.

  Carian cocked his head and sighed through his nose, his gaze running up and down her body. “Hello, pretty little thing.”

  The girl—Raith couldn’t remember her name and wasn’t sure if he’d even asked—smiled sweetly up at Carian.

  Carian grinned and snorted. “I’m surprised, brother. I would have thought you’d go for a redhead with no tits. I think I saw one skulking around here somewhere. But she may have been too pretty for your refined tastes. Not enough freckles. Not as ugly as your little bitch princess.”

  Raith tightened his fist around the blond’s periwinkle dress. “What do you want, Carian? We’re a little busy here.”

  His brother ignored him, poured a second glass of wine, and handed it to the whore. “Your name, sweet girl?”

  Her curling hair fell across her breasts. “I’m Lavina, sir.”

  “Carian, get out,” Raith snarled, his fist tightening on the fabric. Lavina’s dress rode higher on her leg, exposing her thighs.

  Carian ignored him. “Tell me, Lavina.” He sat on the edge of the bench. “What are people saying about the horse-faced princess my brother nearly married?”

  Lavina stiffened, doubt flickering in her kohl-lined blue eyes. Talk had been flying around the capital, evolving as it slipped from mouth to mouth. She’d likely not know which version of the story would please Carian and Raith more. She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Some of the porcelain makeup on her neck had smudged, revealing dark splotches beneath. Bruises from one of her previous clients. Raith so desperately wanted to bite down…

  Carian smiled reassuringly. “You’re not in trouble. It’ll be our little secret.” His hand tickled up her bare leg, pushing the fabric aside, and stopping possessively, too high on her thigh.

  Straight white teeth showed as she breathed a nervous smile. “They say the princess is a traitor, sir. And they say she killed her brother, the king, so that she could be queen of Ryferia. And that the marriage trials she held were only to distract the people from her plans. They say her tutor and her bodyguard helped her, but they escaped King Artemis’s justice.”

  Carian’s nails scraped against her pale skin. “That is what King Artemis and the Intelligentsia are saying.”

  Raith growled under his breath. Artemis, Aurora’s Untalented uncle, had been crowned King of Ryferia only a few hours after Aurora had fled. Fearing retribution for all the insults he’d had thrown at Artemis, and for participating in Aurora’s trials, he and Carian had fled the palazzo. In their haste to escape, all of their possessions had been left behind, including their potion-making equipment. Given the posters nailed up all over the city with an artist’s impression of Raith’s face, the new king wasn’t too happy that they had escaped. Likely, Artemis wanted to execute Raith for his insults. To secure his and Carian’s safety, Raith had paid an extra silver coin for the whorehouse’s discretion.

  Leaving Ryferia wasn’t even an option. He could have slipped away, through the broken giant Guardian, but Carian would never let him walk away without fulfilling his part of the deal: to make Carian Magical. Also, Raith craved blood and magic too much to stop now. Any chance of turning away from the course had been nixed the day he’d killed his father, reaped his magic, and smoked magic from his tongue.

  There was no turning back.

  The trouble was, Artemis had ordered the tunnel Aurora used for her escape to be filled with stone and coal and agrimony. Musketeers now patrolled the streets searching for anyone out after the strict curfew Artemis had set for his citizens.

  Carian squeezed Lavina’s leg harder, nails digging sharply into the skin on the inside of her thigh. “That is what the king and his cronies are saying. Everyone knows that already. I’m asking you what the people are saying about her.”

  Lavina shifted her thigh, wincing, but Carian’s grip held. Her voice shook. “They say she has m-magic.” Her gaze shot to her mousy-haired friend, who had backed into a corner with her jug of pale wine.

  If a musketeer were to hear this—

  The girl whispered, “Some say they saw her use magic to sink one of the king’s ships the day she escaped the city. Fishermen in the bay and on the docks swear by it. And they say that her magic is what made her Infirm. And that—” She swallowed, fists grasping the folds of her dress. “They say that all the Infirm might be Magical, too. And that the king cast a spell on them to make them weak.”

  Raith snorted. At least that last part wasn’t true. King Artemis was anything but Magical, so spellcasting wasn’t in his repertoire. But the Untalented king was canny enough to spin that story to make people believe that Aurora had cast some wicked spell on the Ryferian people with her magic. It could be Artemis’s opening ploy to get rid of the Infirm entirely. If Artemis succeeded, he and Carian would be left with nothing. No magic to reap and no resources to make the potion they needed to give Raith access to his magic within the confines of the Guardians.

  But the potion wasn’t all Raith craved now. The taste of Aurora’s blood still lingered in his mouth. Its sweetness still thrum
med through his veins, thrilling and shocking—and completely useless. Having sucked from her while still under the Guardian’s influence, he hadn’t absorbed any magic.

  Aurora would be in Warrendyte by now with Jorah and the rest of the Magical. She’d be building an army to come and take back Ryferia. Her throne would be united in power with Warrendyte. And then Jorah and Aurora would kill him and Carian.

  Raith’s lips tightened. Without the potion, they’d be utterly defenseless against a Magical army. If he couldn’t access his magic in time to reap what he needed to defeat Jorah and suck Aurora’s magic from her, all would be lost.

  Carian clawed at Lavina’s leg. “Do you believe what they say, Lavina?”

  Lavina tried for a sultry smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “There is no magic any more, sir. The king and the Guardians protect us—”

  “That is not what I asked you, Lavina,” Carian growled, cunning eyes dancing with pleasure. “Do you believe what the people are saying?”

  Lavina’s red-painted mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. “Sir, I…”

  The door banged open, and ten of the king’s musketeers marched in.

  “What the—” Raith bolted upright. They’d come for him. That bitch madam must have given him up. He quickly pulled the hood of his cloak tighter around his face.

  Steel sang as a musketeer drew a sword and angled it at Carian. “Step aside,” he ordered.

  Carian tittered but obeyed. The whores at the bar yelped, pressing into the dark corners. Another musketeer grabbed Lavina by the hair and dragged her from the plush bench. Her glass of wine smashed to the floor.

  Raith’s eyebrows shot up. Was it possible they weren’t here for him?

  Kicking and slapping at air, Lavina screamed as the man threw her to her knees and yanked her head up. Tears burst from her eyes.

  “That’s her.”

  Raith's eyes shifted to the madam standing at the door with a musketeer captain. Bells jingled from the baubles dangling from her ears, which were poking out beneath the dark-red turban wrapped around her head. Too much jewelry and makeup still failed to hide her aging face.

  The captain rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “She’s Infirm?” His eyebrows knitted a long frown line across his forehead.

  “Yes, Captain.” Her face a deathly pallor, the madam nodded fervently.

  From beneath his hood, Raith gaped at Lavina. She couldn’t be Infirm. She looked so…normal.

  The captain seemed to have the same idea. “Lying to a captain of the king is punishable by death, whore.”

  The woman whimpered, “I swear it, sir. She has strange convulsions every other day. She falls to the floor and shakes, and her mouth foams white. She is possessed with Infirmity, sir. I swear it by my life.”

  The captain sneered. “What is your life to swear by? It means nothing to me.”

  Tears streamed down Lavina’s cheeks, and her eyes locked on her mistress. “Madam Talina. I beg you—”

  A distressed sound escaped the madam’s trembling lips. “I swear it by the Guardians, sir.”

  “Bring it in.” The captain waved beyond the door to someone Raith couldn’t see. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Another musketeer brought in a swinging incense ball, a little bigger than a fist and made from iron and copper. Smoke spilled from tiny holes punched in the metal. The smell hit Raith like a punch to the gut. It stank of the Guardians.

  They must be using it to track the Magical. Trying to smoke them out. Raith shrank back, pulling his hood higher over his face and praying to Maleficent that they wouldn’t look at him too closely. He held his breath and covered his mouth and nose as the musketeer brought the swinging ball forward, and hung it in Lavina’s face.

  Sobs racked her as the smoke wafted into her nose. She gagged like she would vomit, and her eyes widened and then rolled back to reveal the perfect whites. Her shoulders slumped, and she began to shake. Her spine arched, and she curled in on herself like a bug as the seizure took over.

  His desire to bite her neck…that hadn’t just been his craving for blood. He’d sensed the magic in her, but under the power of the Guardians, even his sharp nose had been dulled.

  Foam sloshed from her lips. Blood joined as she bit down hard on her tongue.

  The captain, now satisfied that she indeed was Infirm, shoved the madam aside. “Bring the bitch out,” he ordered. “Bring any other Infirm you find.” He turned to Carian with a smirk twisting his lips as Raith shrank back. Silently, he prayed to Maleficent that he wouldn’t be recognized. “I suggest you two gentlemen find better company. This establishment is now held under the king’s orders.”

  Iron manacles slapped down on Lavina’s wrists as she writhed on the floor. The stink of urine soiled the air, liquid darkening her dress. Musketeers dragged the other whores from their hiding places. Smoke swirled around from the incense ball, inching closer to where Raith sat. He leaped to his feet, head spinning as he held his breath. His gaze shot to Carian, who gave him a wild smile that didn’t meet his depthless eyes.

  Carian extended a broad hand to the open door. “Come, brother.”

  Lips and nose clamped closed, Raith stepped past Lavina and the puddle spreading around her and followed Carian into the hall.

  Musketeers marched around, swinging iron and copper incense balls. Some held whores by the hair as they led the Infirm ones, weeping and wailing, down the narrow winding stairs and onto the street below.

  Raith held his breath all the way down, not willing to risk being spotted if the smoke affected him. The king already had plenty of reason to seek his arrest. He didn’t take a breath until they were halfway down the street, and his vision had begun to blur.

  “Well,” Carian finally said, as they watched the musketeers shove a woman with crippled hands into the back of a wagon. “This is an interesting new development.”

  Raith scowled and clicked his tongue. “I knew Artemis would do something like this. Although I don’t see how he can conceive of doing this without backlash from the people.”

  Carian nodded absently as his eyes swept over every detail around them. “Lucky for us, I have a plan.” One corner of his mouth turned in a half smirk.

  Scowling, Raith rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. You just had to bully a woman to get one.”

  Carian turned down a quiet, dark alley. Rats skittered along the gutters, damp from the tide sweeping into the low-lying parts of the city. A rickety canal boat leaned against the slick wall, still tethered to a rotting beam beside a high wooden door. Nailed to the wall was a wanted poster with Raith’s face. He scowled at it and muttered a curse under his breath.

  Carian slowed. “Everything Artemis is doing to the Infirm could work in our favor, if we play our cards right.”

  “Artemis hates us.” Raith jerked a thumb at the wanted poster. “He wants me arrested, and then he probably wants my head to decorate the palazzo gates.”

  “True,” Carian mused, a smile still lingering in his eyes. “But look around you, brother. What does he hate more?”

  “Get to the point, Carian.”

  “Artemis hates the Infirm. He hates magic, and he hates Aurora.”

  Raith kicked at a rat that scuttled between his legs. His patience was wearing thin. “What do you suggest?”

  “I suggest we bring him what he wants. He wants you, and he wants the Infirm gone. So tonight after curfew, we kill a couple of Infirm vagrants. We make it nice and bloody, so Artemis takes notice. And then when he has us arrested, we offer our services to him based on common goals." He waved a hand at Raith. “You are the jilted lord who seeks revenge on the woman who betrayed you by spitting in your face after you had fairly won her hand in marriage. Artemis wants her head and the destruction of the Infirm so badly that it wouldn’t take much to charm him.”

  Raith arched a brow. “You want me to suck up to Artemis? He hates my guts. I insulted him at every opportunity during the trials. And who knows if we’ll even be allowed to see him before they execute us.”

  Carian rolled his eyes at Raith. “Have you read your own wanted poster? It says ‘to be brought directly before the king.’ If they catch us killing Infirm, he’ll think we’re on his side. Once we have his ear and his trust, we’ll know what his plans are, and we’ll have access to the burrow, where I can get to work on our potions.”