Page 73 of Ashborne Phoenix

Voski gave the same predatory smile as his mother’s, and for the first time, I saw the resemblance. It gave me goosebumps.

“Sire, as you witness, my power outstrips Breckon’s, as will my rank, soon enough. And this is my Pair—or rather, she will be. I laid claim to her, which is why our poor Lord finds himself unable to control his magik as it rebounds upon him. But we can clear this up quickly: I am here to claim her officially—before the witnessing Circle.”

“No!” Breckon choked again. “Her blood is alight for me! She is mine!”

Voski rolled his eyes and let his upper lip curl away from his teeth. “You, sir, are far too weak, far too old, and far too… well, you.” He gave a dismissive wave that incorporated all of Breckon, his nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something awful.

A few of the women tittered.

The king was furious. “Who are you? And why, if you have had her, have you not spoken up sooner?”

To my surprise, it was his mother who answered. “He’s my son. The Heir. And—”

Voski gave a bow that was somehow elegant and sarcastic in the same movement as her words were overwhelmed by the roar of shock and protest that rose from the surrounding Cruors—all of whom had been told he was dead, and who now called foul.

“Vane Ashford is dead!”

“She’s lying!”

“She’s using this imposter to take the Lady Barnslow’s blood!”

While they surged forward, and the king snarled at them all to stand back, Voski turned back to me and smiled. I gazed at him, avid, as if there were nothing more fascinating in the world than his jawline.

‘Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?’ he sent with approval.

I smiled wider. ‘I haven’t had to lie yet.’

Ignoring the furor around us, Voski raised his voice, but spoke to the king. “As I mentioned a moment ago, I have only very recently learned this, er, man would bind her. She is mine—already. Claimed by blood and power. I didn’t allow her to speak it outside of my presence for obvious reasons. He’s attempted to steal her—but as you can see, his attempts will only kill him.”

“That’s bullshit! This is a trick—the Dominus attempting to garner further power!” Breckon rasped. “They wish to keep her from me!”

Voski shot him a sneer. “I am Heir Apparent, which means your choice, sir, is to submit, or die. The power will not allow you to bind her when I have already sparked her blood.”

There was a collective gasp as they all grasped what Voski said, who he was, and what he intended. They watched on, in avid fascination, as Breckon spluttered, tripping on his words as he tried desperately to defend himself and regain the king’s assistance.

Voski’s gaze grew sharp and, when Breckon didn’t quiet, snapped his fingers in irritation. Breckon began to strangle again—only this time, there was no coughing. The man clapped hands to his throat, his eyes went round, and his mouth opened and closed, yet no sound came out.

“You are an annoyance. You waste my time, and the king’s. When I open your throat, use your air to tell the truth of your schemes to remove her from me. Speak of your arrogance to attempt to thwart my plan for the Cruors’ power.” Then he addressed the king. “There is no competition here, Sire. This man is not a rival to my power. He was warned, and still believed himself capable of stealing from me. As you can see, he has been proven wrong.”

Voski opened a hand toward Breckon as if displaying a meal.

Breckon sank to his knees, his mouth moving, but no sound in his protest. The watching Court went silent in fear. The king’s eyes were wide with horror, snapping back and forth between Voski and Breckon.

“Let him speak!” he spluttered.

Voski shrugged, then waved a hand again, and suddenly, Breckon tipped forward, catching his weight on both hands slapped to the floor as he heaved, and sucked at the air like a dying man.

“You said you recognize him,” the king barked at the wheezing lord. “So, you were aware of his claim?”

“His claim… is not as a… Cruor… he claims… a dragon bond—”

Our audience gasped and the king snapped his head to look at Voski—his eyes suddenly wary. But Voski rolled his eyes. “Sire—once again, the man deceives you. While I worked secretly among our enemies, he learned of my claim over her and stole her away, using your name to convince the Vosgaarde Queen that she was his, then attempted to bond her here, to thwart me. He’s a jealous schoolboy, using your stature to forward his own ambition.”

“I am no such—”

“Best you listen, Breckon,” Voski drawled. “Otherwise someone might kill you.” Then he smiled an eerie, cold smile, that raised the hair on my neck. I instinctively leaned back, away from that predatory gaze leveled at Breckon.

There was a flinch in the bond. A pang because he caught it. But it never registered on his face. “Sire, this man invoked your power in a rival nation to gain control of her and remove her from me. He couldn’t, of course. Not permanently. Though, I’ll admit, it was an annoyance to have to find her again. But I assure you, he did not know of my Cruor claim. He was too thickheaded to ask himself how she’d come to be in my possession to begin with. As you can see, my claim on her is upheld. Though if you believe it a trick, please instruct him to vow again. By all means. The man is a gnat I’d rather squash than deal with his buzzing annoyance again.”