He waved a dismissive hand. “They’re not my concern.”
“But . . .” The words were forgotten as another scream was wrenched from the Nebule, his flesh slowly melting beneath the heat of Sariel’s magic.
With a ruthless precision honed over centuries of battles, Sariel amped up his magic notch by agonizing notch.
The Nebule pleaded and cursed and threatened until he could no longer speak. Instead he tumbled forward, his body twitching with a pain that was unimaginable.
Sariel allowed it to linger for nearly an hour, his fierce need for retribution only partially fulfilled when the creature abruptly burst into flames. Within seconds there was nothing left of Raith but a greasy pile of sludge.
Walking forward, he passed a hand over the blackened pile, wrapping a layer of magic over Raith that would prevent his people from collecting his remains and giving him a proper burial.
He might be dead, but his soul would remain trapped in this spot for all of eternity.
“I suppose that shall have to satisfy me,” he murmured, turning to find his daughter clutched in the arms of the vampire. “You killed his partner?”
She gave a wary nod. “Yes.”
“You make me proud,” he informed her, knowing that his words of praise would be worth more than the finest jewel to his offspring. “Only the most powerful Chatri could destroy a Nebule single-handedly.”
She frowned, not seeming to appreciate how rare and precious it was to receive his praise. Some of his people had devoted decades of labor just to earn a faint nod of approval from him.
“It wasn’t single-handed,” she protested, glancing toward the vampire.
“Fah.” Sariel sniffed. His daughter’s bond with the vampire was something he needed to break. The sooner the better. “A leech couldn’t be of assistance.”
The vampire flashed his fangs. “I really don’t like you, fey.”
Fey? He was Chatri.
Sariel squared his shoulders. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”
Sally continued to frown, seemingly impervious to the male sniping.
“What did he mean?” she abruptly asked.
Sariel turned his attention to her tense face. “Who?”
“The Nebule.”
“Ah.” He forgot the vampire. This was a proper response for a true Chatri. “You wish to claim his treasure?” He offered a gracious smile. “It is yours if you desire it. You have earned a reward.”
Her brows snapped together as if offended by his generous offer.
“No, I don’t care about treasure.”
Impatience flared through him. What was wrong with the female?
“Of course you care,” he told her. “You are my daughter. We are judged not only by our beauty, but by the wealth we have accumulated.”
She snorted, indifferent to his careful explanation. “Then I’m destined to be low man on the totem pole.”
“You have a totem pole?” he demanded in confusion.
She shook her head. “No. What I mean is that I don’t care how you judge me.”
Sariel stiffened. Among his people such a response could have the offending person thrown into the dungeons, if not killed outright.
“You’re tired so I forgive you for your heresy,” he said stiffly. “We should leave this place.”
The vampire tightened his arm around Sally’s shoulders. “That’s the first intelligent thing you said.”
Sally grimly dug in her heels. “What about the people the Nebule mentioned?”
Sariel arched a brow. “People?”
“He called them your people.”
“Oh.” Sariel shrugged. He’d already forgotten the Nebule’s desperate attempt to avoid his painful death. “Raith and his partner would capture a group of fey and keep them imprisoned until they could arrange an auction on their world.”
“Where are they?”
He gestured behind him. He’d heard the screams of the latest prisoners just before Sally’s timely arrival.
“Somewhere in the portal.”
“Can you find them?” she pressed, ignoring the glares of her vampire.
“If I wanted to.” He curled his lips. “Which I most emphatically do not.”
“Why not? You’re their king.”
He clicked his tongue, running his hands down the rare silk of his gown.
“I am King of the Chatri,” he corrected.
“And the fey are still your people,” she ridiculously insisted.
He peered down the length of his long nose. A gesture that would have sent most of his court scurrying in fear.
“I sense you have some expectation of me.”
Not only did his daughter not scurry, she stepped away from her vampire to stab him with an impatient glare.
“I want to find the fey and take them back to our world.”
Roke and Sariel spoke in unison.
“No!”
Sally planted her hands on her hips, refusing to be quelled by the two men who were studying her as if she’d gone nuts.
And maybe she had.
It wasn’t like she could explain why rescuing the fey was important.
They were, after all, mere strangers.
But over the past weeks, Roke had taught her that she could no longer hide.
Not from her enemies. Or the world.
Or even herself.
She didn’t know who she was becoming, but she wanted it to be someone who could be proud of the choices she made.
Someone who could walk down the street with her head lifted high, not cowering in the shadows.
“I’m not leaving without them,” she announced in stubborn tones.
“Sally.” Roke cupped his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head to meet the stunning silver of his gaze. “I didn’t like your insistence on rescuing your father.”
“Understatement of the century,” she muttered.
His expression was grim as he no doubt battled the urge to toss her over his shoulder and force her to leave.
“But I understood that you felt it was your duty,” he continued.
“It was,” she agreed.
His thumb stroked the line of her jaw. “Now that you’ve done what was necessary, we have to get out of here.”
She wanted out of there as much as Roke and her father.
The swirling lights of the portal were making her dizzy and the weird smell of the smoldering Nebule remains was turning her stomach.
But she knew that if she gave in to Roke’s urgings, she would never forget that she’d sacrificed the lives of others because she couldn’t be bothered to save them.
“And leave behind innocents?” she asked, holding Roke’s gaze.
“You made sure that no more fey will be captured,” he rasped. “You’ve done enough.”
Her father couldn’t resist intruding into their conversation.
“As much as I hate to agree with the leech, he is right.”
She stepped around Roke to meet her father’s bored gaze. “So you intend to just abandon them to an eternity of being trapped in hell?”
He blinked at her unexpected attack. “It’s doubtful they will survive an eternity.”
“Good Lord,” she breathed. She was quickly discovering her father was a coldhearted narcissist who rarely considered anything but himself. Still, the knowledge he would easily abandon people who considered him a god was a breaking point as far as she was concerned. “Fine,” she rasped, moving before either man could react. “I’ll find them myself.”
She had taken less than two steps when Roke was at her side, his hand on her arm.
“Sally, you’re not thinking clearly,” he said, the words setting her teeth on edge.
She sent him a scowl. “Don’t tell me what I’m thinking.”
He growled in exasperation. “Why would you risk your life for a bunch of fey you don’t even know?”