The Goblin's Throne

Chapter Forty Six: Spilling Blood

The hate between Lysander and I was palpable. It thickened the air like a boggy fog. He looked at me like I was sure he'd always seen me like I were an ugly, inbred thing that didn't have the right to breathe at all, let alone the same air he did. I, likewise, let my own mask fall away and shatter at my feet and I looked at him as I had begun to see him in recent days. Something I wanted dead in the worst ways possible. I gave him a wolfish smile, baring my own teeth as my own eyes darkened. Knut had always told me that my eyes changed color with my mood. When I was happy, they appeared more golden, but when I was feeling especially violent, they turned as black as Rolland and Rhys' had been. Black and emotionless as fish eyes. Well, if it were true, I was sure they'd become as dark as an inkwell as my loving gaze revealed the murderous glare it had been hiding for months. 

Mindful of our audience, I stepped close to him and cooed as if telling him how much I adored him. "You're not as smart as you think you are." I watched the crowd over his shoulder, seeing the men in green cloaks joining with the crowd growing in number. The other faeries were beginning to sense that something was off, though most were already too drunk to know to be afraid yet. They'd forgotten about Lysander and I and were looking around like confused chickens, wondering why so many people would choose to wear matching outfits. I looked towards Cerise where she was waiting for me by one of the exits to find her staring back with a confused expression. "Help." I mouthed silently. I'd barely gotten the whole word formed before she began to move back towards me, slipping between bodies.

Her eyes too had changed. They hadn't shifted in color, but they were different all the same. I saw not an ounce of fear in her hazel eyes. Only a determined focus like an eagle with a hare in its sights. 

"Neither are you." Lysander hissed back, angling his head as if to whisper sweet nothings into my ear. 

I chuckled huskily at that. "Well, I was never the brains of Knut and I's relationship. That was him. I've always been more of the brawn."  I lifted my face a little until our lips were nearly touching. To all the rest, we might've looked like we were about to kiss, but we both knew we were each more likely to bite. "I just thoroughly enjoy watching my enemies suffer, which you're about to experience in spades, prick."

Cerise cried a strange, screeching roar when she buried an iron dagger deep into Lysander's shoulder. Lysander shouted, his eyes going wide, showing the whole whites around the ring of sea-like color. He dropped to his knees, clawing at his shoulder. When he pulled his hand away he looked at his own blood like Mab had that first time I'd cut her. Like he couldn't quite believe that it was possible that a human had spilled it. 

That was it. The spark we needed to set the raging wildfire. Her roar was a call to action and her fellow slaves listened and heeded it well. The slaves dropped their golden platters of shellfish and pitchers of wine and gripped their weapons tight. They leaped at their masters, at the faeries who thought they'd been too tamed to be worthy of fear, and they stabbed their iron through their immortal hearts. The faeries screamed. Their wings beat and fluttered, sending feathers dancing through the air. 

It was like they were slaughtering chickens for the afternoon meal. By nightfall, the goblins would be very well fed.

Cerise pulled her knife free and jumped back from Lysander's body. She quickly put an iron knife in my hand and I squeezed it like the hand of a loved one. "Run!" She cried. She really didn't need to give me an incentive. We bolted across the throne room, pushing people out of our way and jumping over the dead and dying. 

A guard staggered out of the mass of warring bodies and rushed at us, breathing fire. It spewed from his lips just like dragon's breath, scorching the marble floor at our feet. We raised our iron weapons to the level of our faces and clenched our teeth. The flames washed over us, bending around the blades and our bodies, the magic reeling away from the simple metal. I leaped just as he went to take another breath, angling my knife towards the underside of his jaw. He raised his sword in an attempt to block me, so I ducked instead and stuck it through his ribs through the bare space at his armpit. I felt it when the blade pierced his heart. The knife wobbled as it tried to continue beating. I pulled it out slightly and shoved it back in. His heart only beat faintly a few more times after that and with each trimmer, I forced the blade in again. His sword clattered uselessly to the ground. His knees buckled and he clung to me, his eyes wide and shifting in pain. He coughed up blood, spraying droplets across my face. "Does it hurt, Romulus?" I hissed, recognizing his eyes through his helm. "Be grateful, I made it quick."