Court of Vipers Sneak Peek

New Adult, Dark Fantasy, Enemies-to-Lovers, Slow-Burn Romance

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Chapter 1

Riona

It appears I’ve become something of a monster.

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Chapter 2

Riona

Riona set down the quill in her hand and stared at the parchment before her, the elegant cursive stark in contrast to the harsh truth of the words. She knew what the people outside this palace whispered about her. She knew they’d heard the stories of ruined villages and forbidden magic, the blood and bodies and broken thrones she had left in her wake. Perhaps they were right to fear her.

She sat at a long rectangular table in a vast, empty room. The doors behind her were open, and a sweet, floral breeze swept through them, sending the silk of Riona’s skirt fluttering against her legs. Everything here was bright and clean: the floor white marble, the walls pale blue, the chandelier a glittering mass of silver and opals. It was so different from the castle she’d known in Rivosa, with its iron-latticed windows and drab gray stone.

It appears I’ve become something of a monster.

She picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink once again.

They stole everything from me. I suppose it was only fair that I repay them their kindness.

The doors across from her parted, and a boy—no, a man—with unruly curls and a tall, lean build stepped into the room. The quill slipped from Riona’s fingers and clattered on the table, leaving a smear of ink on the parchment. It had been a few years since she’d last seen him, and although his hair was longer, his posture more confident, his muscles more sculpted, she would have recognized Percival Comyn anywhere.

He closed the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms. A grin tugged at his lips. “I hear you’ve been quite busy since you left Beltharos.”

“Yes, and look where it got me,” Riona responded, her heart aching at the sight of his smile. By the Creator, she’d missed him. “A prisoner in a gilded cage, once again.”

“It also won you the crown on your head.”

She reached up and ran her fingers lightly over the sapphires set into the gold band. “A crown I will have little use for if my enemies get their way.”

“What enemies? You’ve killed them all.”

No. Not all of them.

Riona folded the parchment and pushed it aside. There would be time for writing—for explaining—later. “How have you been?”

“Trying to change the subject?”

“Catching up with an old friend.”

Percival’s smile faded at that, a mixture of sorrow and nostalgia in his eyes. He pushed off the door and claimed the seat across from her. “Things have been difficult since Tamriel and Mercy freed the slaves. Better, but difficult. Many lives were lost to the war with the Cirisians, and those wounds are still healing. The humans like to take their anger out on the elves, and the elves aren’t afraid to strike back. Celeste says that change takes time, but I don’t know how much longer we can endure this tension. I’d thought having an elven queen would change things, and it has, but not as much as any of us would have liked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Thank the Creator we’re no longer the ones wearing the crowns.”

“Are Mercy and Tamriel faring well, all things considered?”

“They have each other, which is all they’ve ever needed. They’re still as in love as they were the day they were married.”

“I wish I’d been there. I should never have gone back to Rivosa.”

Percival smiled sadly. “…No, you shouldn’t have.”

“I should have done many things differently,” she murmured, glancing away. The movement sent flecks of colored light across the room, the sunlight from the palace gardens reflecting off the jewels in her crown. She wore it, even here, even now. The Emperor may have stripped her of her freedom, but he could not strip her of her royal blood. “Well, nothing to be done about it except face what’s to come. Have they set a date for my execution yet?”

His brows furrowed. “You haven’t been sentenced to execution, Riona. The Emperor wishes to hear your story.”

She sat up straighter, surprised. After all this time, he had finally agreed to hear her out? Even if it didn’t save her life, at least it would set the record straight, which was all she’d wanted since coming to the palace. People spoke of her all across the northern and southern continents—the girl who had not only stolen a crown, but razed a kingdom. The girl whose blood was something to be feared. They were already telling stories about her; she might as well make sure those stories were true.

“What changed his mind? It took me weeks of asking just to receive those.” Riona nodded to the stack of parchment beside her. “Did you convince them to listen to me? Is that why you’re here?”

“No, I can’t take credit for this, as much as I’d like to. His Imperial Majesty has allowed me to escort you to the throne room, however.” He rose and rounded the table, offering his arm. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready since the moment I arrived.”

She slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow, and they left the room together, their footsteps clicking on the tile and echoing down the vast hall that stretched before them. The half-dozen guards assigned to her chambers fell into step behind them. Riona stared straight ahead and pretended not to notice the way their hands hovered over the grips of their swords. Here, as in the rest of the palace, the corridor was tall and airy, made to appear larger by the white pillars and polished mirrors lining the walls. It would have been beautiful, had it not been tainted by the memory of being dragged through the halls in chains.

Riona watched their reflections as they walked, Percival in the fine tunic and trousers of a Beltharan lord, she in the light, silky gowns she’d always loved. So much had changed, and yet so much felt the same. How many times had they walked arm-in-arm like this through the halls of Myrellis Castle? If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend they were back there, masquerading as king and queen, as a loving couple.

“So, why are you here, then?” Riona asked. “Why aren’t you back in Westwater with Celeste and the little ones?”

“You know we have little ones?”

“I haven’t been so busy fighting wars to stop keeping tabs on old friends. A daughter and a son, is it?”

“It is, and I love them more than I ever thought possible.” A beaming grin spread across Percival’s lips. Life with Celeste was doing him good; Riona could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him genuinely smile in Beltharos. Now, he couldn’t seem to stop.

Percival paused in the middle of the hall and took her hands. He still wore the same wire-rimmed spectacles he had in Beltharos, and his eyes sparkled behind the crooked frame. “All I want is for you to find the same happiness. As for why I’ve come, did you honestly think I wouldn’t sail here immediately after finding out the Emperor had taken you into his custody? You stood by me against my uncle. I will stand by you through this.”

“Even after everything I’ve done?”

“Some of them are…questionable, true,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t change what I said.”

Love for him rushed over her, and she threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Percival,” she breathed.

He hugged her back just as fiercely. “There is no need to thank me.”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then pulled back and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm once again. “Alright. Take me to the Emperor.”

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Riona held her chin high as the throne room doors parted, revealing a sea of courtiers in the bright, vibrant colors favored in the Erdurian Empire. It seemed every member of the nobility had come to see what the Emperor would do to his prisoner. She kept her expression neutral, as she’d learned to do long ago in the presence of a royal court, but her white-knuckled grip on Percival’s arm betrayed her nerves. He said nothing as he escorted her into the room. The nobles sat on benches on either side of the aisle, their heavy gazes weighing on Riona’s chest. The Emperor stared at her, stone-faced, from his throne. When Riona saw who stood before him, she stopped in her tracks.

A dagger in her palm.

“Riona!” Percival cried, grabbing her arm just as she sent it flying through the air.

Shouts of alarm filled the room, and the Emperor shot to his feet, snapping commands at his guards. The traitor turned and stumbled backward in surprise, the dagger nicking his shoulder and clattering against the steps of the dais.

Damn you, Percival, Riona thought as royal guards shoved them apart, wrenching her arms behind her back hard enough to send her to her knees. Her crown clattered to the ground and rolled away, gemstones glittering. I would have struck his heart if you hadn’t stopped me.

The Creator-forsaken traitor lifted a hand to the slit in his doublet, and his fingers came away red. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Now, now, is that any way to say hello?”

She glared at him, loose braids tumbling down around her face. “It’s the only greeting you deserve.”

“How did she find a dagger?” the Emperor demanded, scowling at the guards. “Did you search Lord Percival for weapons before he went to see her?”

“I didn’t give it to her!” Percival objected. Two guards had seized him and were holding his arms immobile while another patted him down, searching for the dagger’s sheath. “What the hell were you thinking, Riona?”

“Oh, let him go,” the bastard said with a lazy wave of his hand. “She’s clever enough that she wouldn’t need anyone’s help to procure a weapon. I’d be dead if he hadn’t knocked her arm aside. We owe him a debt of gratitude.”

The Emperor nodded, and the guards released Percival. He straightened his tunic and shot Riona a look that said, I told you I would stand by you, but I might have reconsidered if I’d known you were going to do that.

I’m sorry, she mouthed.

“You’re on thin ice, Riona,” Emperor Hyperion said, his voice carrying through the vast room. “This is your one chance to tell your side of the events that led up to the destruction of Kostos. An entire kingdom was brought to its knees because of you. Buildings leveled. Fields razed. People slaughtered. Do not squander this opportunity.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Your Imperial Majesty,” one of the guards corrected, but Riona silenced him with a glare.

“No. ‘You’re on thin ice, Your Majesty.’ I am still a queen, and you will address me as such.” She looked up at the Emperor. “Condemn me for my actions if you must, but I have fought, bled, and killed for my crown. As long as I wear it, I expect that you show me the respect I’ve earned.”

“As long as you wear it?” the traitor echoed, glancing at the crown lying near Percival’s feet. A cold smile skated across his lips. “Poor choice of words.”

“Why are you here, rather than rotting in some Creator-forsaken corner of the world?”

“You want to tell your side of the story. I’m here to keep you honest.”

She scoffed. “That word doesn’t exist in your vocabulary.”

The bastard merely grinned in response.

Riona had to bite her tongue to keep from retorting. Growing up, she’d always been praised for her mild manners and soft, quiet disposition, but she wasn’t a girl any longer. Percival was gaping from where he stood by the rest of the courtiers, staring at her as if he hardly recognized the creature before him.

Good. I may be monstrous, but at least I am no longer weak.

The traitor stood between her and the dais, looking achingly similar to the last time she’d seen him. He was a little older, a little harder, but he still had that mischievous glimmer to his eyes. The same shock of brown hair hung over his brow, laced with strands of a deep auburn. Their gazes locked, and the tension between them pulled taut as a bowstring. So much history lay between them. So many nights in a dark theater, blades flashing in the candlelight, music dancing in the air. So many fights, so many deaths, so much blood spilled. And yet, something kept bringing them back together.

Some might have called it fate, and Riona would have called them fools.

“Prince Auberon,” she said, her voice icy.

He gave a single nod. “Your Majesty.”

One night in particular haunted her, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking of it, too. They had never spoken of it. They’d never had the chance, because he had left long before she had even realized what was happening. What he’d done. Whose life he’d claimed.

Now, everyone would know. Everyone would understand why she had done what she did.

“You want to hear my side of the story?” Riona asked, shifting so she could look Emperor Hyperion in the eyes. “Very well. It begins with a cup of wine.”

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