Reluctant King (Reluctant Royals Book 1) Page 5

  “Is that a gun?” Draven demanded, spotting the firearm just seconds after Brax.

  Sabre blinked guilelessly at Draven as she replied; “Why yes, Draven, it is. Good observation skills.”

  Draven’s own eyes narrowed and he commanded, “You cannot have a gun in the King’s presence.”

  “Why not? It’s not like I’m going to shoot him with it,” Sabre graciously pointed out. “Besides, I’m just as deadly with the other two dozen weapons I have concealed on my body.”

  Brax groaned and hung his head, he had a feeling it was going to be a really long fucking day.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sabre patted the great beast’s head as it leaned heavily against her side. The hell hound was much bigger than any normal dog, with a reddish, leathery hide, a dark blue tongue, and really big, pointy teeth. He was also the size of a pony, with his back reaching her rib cage and his head able to rest on her shoulder. Sabre had no doubt Styx would be well and truly taller than her six feet when he stood on his back legs. He was a sweetie though, and she couldn’t believe Brax was in possession of one. Hell hounds were extremely rare in Purgatory because they tended to like warmer, dryer climates. Not to mention that they were rather testy animals and weren’t known to be trainable. In Hell, they pretty much did what they wanted, when they wanted. The fact that Brax was currently shaking his head, yellow eyes warm and filled with humour as they gazed at the hound, made the man rise in her estimation. Anyone who was patient and kind enough to love an animal like Styx must have a good heart.

  Shaking off her gooey thoughts, Sabre gave Styx a playful shove, “Okay, buddy. Off you go. The adults have some things to discuss.”

  Styx seemed to groan in annoyance, but he dutifully trotted away to settle and keep watch under the shade of a large tree. The private royal gardens of the palace really were a rare treasure and Sabre had indulged herself in a leisurely stroll or two in the past. It was always easy to get past the guards unnoticed, given she had knowledge of and access to several secret passageways. She was wise enough not to say so in present company though, and she decided to get on with business.

  “I am here as requested,” she began.

  “Yes, you are,” Brax agreed. “How exactly are you here? My guards didn’t announce you.”

  Sabre merely shrugged, causing Brax to scowl and cross his arms over his chest. Her eyes greedily took in the way the movement stretched his shirt over his broad shoulders, and the way his biceps flexed. She wanted to lick him everywhere. Her eyes widened with the knowledge and she kept her mouth shut in order to guarantee her tongue stayed well away from Brax and his sinful body parts.

  “Not going to tell me how you got in?” Brax challenged.

  “No. But I’ll tell you what … I’ll compromise. Ask me another time. Sometime in the future after I’ve decided whether I like you or not, and therefore want to be honest with you. In the meantime,” Sabre rushed on to say, curbing any and all rebuttals, “I’m here for more information.”

  “What kind of information?” Draven, the ever-present, immediately asked. He was already eyeing her suspiciously.

  Sabre huffed in annoyance, “Does he have to be here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.” Draven and Brax responded simultaneously.

  Sabre mock-pouted, “But he’s so ugly.”

  Draven gasped in outrage and she was gratified to see Brax covering a laugh with a fake cough. Of all the things Sabre could say to the stuffy angel, she knew that would have to be top of the list to get a reaction. Draven was incredibly beautiful, from the top of his golden head – where she could almost see his fucking sparkling halo – to the bottom of his leather loafers. The angel was classically handsome and he no doubt knew it. Sabre also knew that he was likely quite vain, as most angels tended to be, and any slight against his appearance would be a massive insult.

  Predictably, Draven ran his hands through his perfectly styled locks, arguing; “I am not ugly.”

  Sabre pasted a look of disgust on her face, taunting him further, “You are from where I’m standing. Which is downwind by the way,” she pointed out, helpfully.

  Draven’s head snapped back, “Are you now suggesting I smell?”

  Sabre opened her mouth to reply only to be interrupted by Brax, who growled low in his throat; “Would you children quit it? Am I going to have to separate you two?”

  “Yes, please,” Sabre promptly responded, smiling widely at the king.

  “Sabre …”

  Brax sounded aggrieved, frustrated and tired. All things Sabre couldn’t blame him for. She kind of had that effect on people. Cutting him some slack, she decided to stop fucking with Draven and get on with the job. “Sorry,” she was so not sorry, “I’ll behave,” for now, “I promise,” not really. “The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner I can get out of your hair.” At least that final part was true.

  And what great hair you have, Sabre mused, silently. It was rakishly long and decidedly wild-looking. She bet he hated it. But to her it looked appealing … and like something to hang on to. Thankfully, Brax chose that moment to speak, derailing her treacherous thoughts.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Breathing in deep, Sabre consciously shifted the part of her that hunted and killed for a living to the forefront, “As much as you can tell me about the death of your brothers, father and uncles.” Brax winced, and though Sabre felt bad for the demon, she knew he could have some important information for her. “Start with the latest deaths; Zagan and Mikhail.”

  “I …” Brax looked a little helplessly at Draven, who stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm.

  “Zagan was killed while out nightclubbing about fourteen months ago. There were dozens of witnesses yet none at all. Nobody at the club saw who or what killed Z and his guardian angel – who of course had been with him at the time. His angel, Eli, was killed first – beheaded – followed by Zagan mere seconds later. He was doused in Hell fire and reduced to ashes in seconds,” Draven explained, voice carefully even.

  Sabre nodded thoughtfully, “I read about it of course. But I must admit, I thought it was the media catastrophising and dramatising the facts.”

  “Unfortunately not,” Draven intoned.

  “How could there be no witnesses? If a prince was there, I bet the place was packed,” Sabre said, wheels turning.

  “It was indeed. But everyone reports hearing the screams and seeing the bodies – and the flames – but nothing else. So many people were fleeing that the killer just melted into the crowd,” Draven stated.

  Sabre doubted that. If it was an assassin, they would have stayed to watch until Zagan was nothing but ashes. And a beheading? That was a messy business. Although, Sabre acknowledged that it was a very expedient way to kill an angel. With their speed, strength and rapid healing abilities, not much could kill their kind. Not to mention that nearly all angels created in Heaven – as all guardians were – were warriors by default and were extremely gifted fighters.

  There were just as many types of angels as there were demons. Each were born or created with different abilities and each with their own purpose in life. Most angels were born in Purgatory as descendants of the original, powerful beings. That wasn’t to say that born angels were in any way diluted or weak. They still held great strength and powers and were born sharing the abilities of their predecessors by blood – inheriting whatever power and purpose was tasked to the angel of their line. However, unlike demons and other supernatural creatures in Purgatory, there were still some angels who were created in Heaven. Such angels were fashioned by the Gods themselves with a specific purpose and were tasked with a higher calling. There weren’t many around these days but the few that were, held great power. The guardians of the royal line were always such angels. So, to get past not just one guardian to kill Zagan, but also Mikhail’s, their father’s and their uncles’ …? The chances of so many powerful angels being overcome was a statistical anomaly.


  Sabre decided to continue the new avenue of thought, asking; “What about Mikhail’s guardian? Was that angel killed before him as well?”

  Brax made a strange noise in the back of his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face, looking dejected. “You’ve asked the one question I can’t answer reliably. Mikhail … well, he didn’t have a guardian angel.”

  Sabre shot him a look of disbelief, “Excuse me? What do you mean, he didn’t have one? Every one of you royal demons gets a guardian angel, express delivered from the Gods themselves.”

  “Yeah, well, Mikhail didn’t.” Brax’s response was flat, leaving no room for argument.

  Sabre paused, taking in the serious countenances of both Abraxis and Draven, “How is that possible?”

  Brax stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, “We don’t really know. Father and Mikhail had theories of course. But nothing they could prove. Like, maybe his angel was killed before they could find each other –”

  “If that was the case, then another angel would simply be created to replace them. That’s how it works,” Sabre interjected.

  “Right …” Brax acknowledged slowly. “How do you seem to know so much about guardian angels and the royal family anyway?”

  Sabre kept her face carefully blank and ignored the looks of suspicion and curiosity on the faces of Draven and Brax. “I’m an assassin. It’s my job to know stuff. And what I don’t know, I find out. Isn’t that why you hired me?”

  “You’re prevaricating,” Brax stated. “But I’m going to let it slide. The other theory was that Mikhail just hadn’t met his angel yet. Guardians are delivered to Purgatory only when they are going to be of most use. Angels no more know who their charge is than we as demons know who our angel is. But there is a recognition – a knowing – when we finally meet,” Brax revealed. “Every demon in my family has met their angels at different ages. Although, Mikhail was the oldest by far. He was over one hundred when he was killed and still no angel. Mikhail never really seemed bothered by it – which I always found odd. Anyway, it’s a moot point now. My brother is dead and if he ever had a guardian to begin with, he sure as shit doesn’t now.”

  Sabre felt the line of questioning was pissing Brax off, so she quickly moved on, “Okay. No guardian angel. Whatever. Moving on; witnesses?” Sabre prompted, “Who found the body?”

  “I did,” Brax’s response was cool and flat but the fire in his eyes was bright hot. “And the vision of seeing my older brother, so strong and noble and wise, bleeding out from a single cross bolt to the heart, still gives me nightmares a year later. How is any of this helping?!”

  Yep, definitely pissed, Sabre thought. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard, but I need as many details as I can. Zagan and his angel killed in public, Mikhail killed in the palace with no angel and you found the body, your two uncles and father were killed over a period of about a decade – all within the palace walls. Correct?” Sabre recapped.

  “That’s right. No witnesses. Their angels all died protecting them. Father was killed by poison, Uncle Yuri’s head was beaten in, and Uncle Sage was found drowned in his bathroom,” Brax listed.

  Sabre blew out a frustrated breath. Other than Mikhail not having a guardian, there was no new information there at all. Sabre already knew all of it. She had no idea where to start considering she had already pursued a lot of fruitless leads in the past. Not that she could tell the King that. She had five deaths, spread over fifty years and the only thing that linked them was the fact that they were royals. Thinking on her toes, she suddenly asked; “And you’re sure it’s the same person behind all these deaths?”

  “You think the deaths are unrelated?” Draven sounded incredulous.

  “Well, no,” Sabre allowed. “But the deaths of your uncles and father were a whole generation before you. That is some long-term goal setting from our murderous villain. It makes me question their intent.”

  “The demise of the line of Cerberus isn’t enough?” Brax asked, dryly.

  Sabre shrugged, “Not really, no. I mean, to what end? You think they want to take over or something? Who inherits the throne if you die?” she turned to Brax.

  “There are still quite a number of cousins about the place,” Draven admitted, when Brax remained silent. “They are also eligible for the throne in the case of emergencies even though they are not in direct succession. But the very nature of how the descendants breed, ensures there are many others about with Cerberus blood in their veins.”

  “Right. The whole triplet thing,” Sabre muttered. It was a freaky fact of nature that the ruling couple always produced triplet heirs. Male triplet heirs as a matter of fact, and the oldest male was the one to ascend to the throne. After the birth of a new set of triplets, that generation became the only ones able to claim the throne. So, even though Sabre bet there were dozens of second and third cousins, as well as a few great uncles around, they weren’t in direct succession. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to a few of them, Sabre mused. As well as tug on the angel thread. Then there was Carlisle’s offhanded comment the night before.

  Okay, maybe I have a little more to go on than I’d originally thought. Feeling a surge of energy, Sabre asked one last question that had been bothering her, “What about your mother? Didn’t she die just before your first uncle was killed?” Sabre didn’t know that much about the former Queen. Only that she had been unwell for a long time and had retired from public life years before her death.

  Brax immediately shook his head, “I can say with certainty that mother’s death had nothing to do with it. She had a wasting disease that affected the females of her line – after giving birth. She and father knew about the risks and father was willing to abdicate the throne for her and stay childless. But mother pushed the issue. She wanted children she said.”

  Draven shifted minutely, but Sabre zeroed in on the telling movement, “Draven? You have something to add?”

  Draven looked toward Brax who looked resigned as he nodded his head, giving permission for whatever Draven was going to say. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but I believe it was more a case of wanting to be the Queen than wanting to have children.”

  Interesting, Sabre thought. But Eronia wasn’t the first person wanting to marry into a royal family for the prestige and power. “If she was willing to risk her life to have children and secure her position as Queen, then I’d say she was pretty dedicated to the cause.” She looked at Brax, “She wasn’t a good mother?” Sabre didn’t really know why she asked that. It wasn’t pertinent to her task. But she still held her breath, awaiting his answer as if it was important to her. Sabre herself had no recollection of experiencing a mother of any kind, and was a firm believer in the human adage, ‘you can’t miss what you’ve never had’, but for some reason thinking of a small yellow-eyed boy crying for a mother who didn’t want him made Sabre see red.

  “She wasn’t a bad mother per say. Just a little … disinterested. At least, she was to Mikhail and me. Now Z, she adored Z. Her baby was definitely her favourite and she spoiled him half rotten – as his playboy behaviour showed. Z really went off the rails when she died. It took months for him to settle back down. Actually, it was the death of Uncle Yuri that seemed to snap him back into focus.”

  Sabre pursed her lips, refraining from saying anything. Brax was right and the death of the Queen over fifty years ago was unrelated. Needing time and space to process and develop a way forward, Sabre was about to say her goodbyes when Brax’s pocket began to sing a popular Euro-trash pop song. Sabre eyed the demon in horror, “What the fuck is that?!”

  Brax glared at her, “Don’t pretend you don’t like this song! It’s the best!”

  “If by the best you mean it makes me want to stab sharpened pencils in my ears, then yes. It’s the best.”

  Abraxis merely rolled his eyes at her dry words, yanking his phone out of his pocket in apparent annoyance. He then promptly swore when he looked at the display. “Shit! It’s the al
arm from my calendar. Draven, we had that appointment with Hollis scheduled for an hour ago. Can you go soothe his ruffled feathers and go over his plans for the new building site?”

  “Me? Why me?” Draven looked surprised, squinting at his liege.

  “Because you and he speak the same language. You’re both angels. Come on, Draven. You know Hollis doesn’t like me at the best of times. And now that we’ve kept him waiting? I’m just not in the mood for his passive aggressive bullshit. I feel like I’ve been put through the wringer here, man. I’m on a hair-trigger and could very well end up punching Hollis in the face. I’m not finished with Sabre yet.”

  Sabre perked up at that, he’s not?

  Draven’s posture softened and stepped close to Brax, laying a comforting hand on his arm, “I know you hate talking about all of this. But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stay with you, Sir.”

  Sabre grinned at the angel, fiddling with the thigh holster and stroking the gun strapped to her waist, “Don’t worry, there’s no silencer. If I choose to shoot him, you’ll hear it and you can come running to save the day like a good little angel.”

  “You are so annoying!” Draven suddenly yelled.

  “Yeah? Well, so’s your face!” Sabre was quick to shoot back.

  “Why you –”

  “Draven! Just go. Please. Or have you forgotten I have eighty years of fighting experience under my belt? I can take care of myself. I also happen to be the King,” Brax said, drolly.

  Draven looked at him in shock for a few seconds, and much to Sabre’s surprise, dipped his head in a bow before striding off without saying another word.

  “What was that all about?” she asked Brax, genuinely curious. Abraxis had said he wasn’t finished with her yet and she was just silly enough to want to prolong their contact as well.