Court of death courts an.., p.1
Court of Death (Courts and Kings), page 1
COURT OF DEATH
COURTS AND KINGS
K.A. KNIGHT
Court of Death (Courts and Kings).
Copyright © 2023 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Written by K.A. Knight: Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading.
Proofreading by Norma’s Nook.
Formatted by The Nutty Formatter.
Cover by Jay at Simply Defined Art.
Art by Dily Iola Designs.
CONTENTS
Reader Warning
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
About K.A. Knight
Also by K.A. Knight
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READER WARNING
Please note, this is a dark romance and as such there may be scenes that you find triggering. This book includes scenes with sexual violence, graphic violence, explicit scenes, consensual blood play, and much more.
Step into the shadows and find the death within . . .
PROLOGUE
AVEA
“Avea.”
I stare down at the blood staining my palms as death reaches for him.
“Avea!” She screams my name once more. “He’s dying. He’s dying. Help us! Help me!” The panic, horror, and agony in her tone snaps me out of my clouded delusion, and I drop to my knees at his side.
She sobs, leaning into his chest where he’s propped up in bed. His face is ashen, his skin is clammy, his eyes are an odd grey colour and bloodshot, and his fangs are turning grey. He’s dying, and the blood he coughed up is proof of his demise as it coats my palms.
It smells and feels wrong on my hands.
I lay my hands on him again, moving my powers through his body as I try to save the only person I care about in this world, but it’s useless. I sit back, my own tears falling down my face. My bright hair changes with my pain, turning dull and lifeless.
She sees and sobs harder. “No, Avea, you have to save him. You have to. I can’t lose him. Avea, please, I’ll do anything. Avea, you owe him your life, so save his!” she screams.
She is not wrong. I do owe him my life.
I will not let him die. I refuse to live a life without my best friend, without my brother.
I lick my lips nervously as a truly horrible idea comes to mind.
It will probably get us all killed, but it’s the only chance we have. “We must go to the god of death and beg for his life,” I whisper. “Gather him, I know a place he is said to visit. We will beg for his life, beg for the god to save him.” I take her hand, meeting my brother’s mate’s grief-stricken face. “All is not lost yet. We will save him. I will make sure of it.” Laying my other hand on his heart, I ignore his weak protests as I close my eyes and transport us to the one place no living being should ever visit—a palace of death.
CHAPTER ONE
AVEA
I ignore everyone else in the club, focusing on the swirling drink before me—a drink that should kill me. I sense the new judges, the kings and queen everyone is talking about, but if they want to kill me, then let them. I would crave it, just for a moment.
But no, I can’t do that. It’s the easy way out, and I’ve never been good at taking that route. Still, I ignore all the posturing and stares of the others at the bar, my shoulders slumped. Tonight had been bad. Why did I do it? Why did I think they would feed me? I knew better than to go to one of the parties, even in my desperation to feed, but I did it only to be publicly rejected and scolded before the entire court.
It’s why I stay away as long as I can. I had managed to stay away for two months before tonight, and I vow to myself it will be longer still. I will never go back if I can help it. After all, it’s never been a place of safety or home for me simply because of what I am.
Downing the drink, I signal for another, ignoring the fighting and yelling I hear. Hell, it might even be for the best that we all die here. I’m drowning my misery in alcohol when alarm bells go off in my head—not literally, but a bad feeling forms inside me, like when you look down a darkened alley and know you shouldn’t enter it. It’s instinct born from my other half, but there is barely anyone I care about left in this world who could be in danger, and I’m not in immediate danger, so that only leaves . . .
Mateo.
I’m up before anyone even sees me move. Usually, I hesitate to use my magic in front of people. I was taught it was wrong, a sin, and that I should blend in and be like every other vampyr, but the alarm increases in my head, so I evaporate right there in the middle of the club, fading out of existence. The ease of which I travel is halted by my need to lock onto his location. I follow the alarm bells and eventually come into view outside of the three-story townhouse he shares with his mate.
Hurrying up the steps, I pant as the warning blares louder. My body vibrates, ready for a fight, and my magic and power mix, but it’s lesser than normal, merely a tiny spark where it should be a flame—not that I’ve ever fed enough to test the strengths of both my powers, preferring to keep myself half-starved so they don’t expose me or make me a target, but I’m running on empty.
Stupid, so fucking stupid.
At the bright eggshell-white front door, I freeze when I see a red handprint mars its perfection. All three of us painted it one summer day before indulging in a BBQ.
It’s a warning of what’s to come, and when I lay my hand on the knob, my instincts roar at me to leave.
It screams of . . . sickness.
It’s wrong.
I surge forward, opening the warded door and stepping in. “Mateo?” I call softly. All the lights are off, and wind hits the shutters as rain begins to pour down, obscuring my vision past the huge windows. “Phoebe?” I call for my other friend, his mate, but there’s no response.
Moving through the darkened living room to the left, I hurry up the two flights of stairs, not bothering with the second floor where their playroom, home office, and my spare bedroom are. Instead, I stop on the grey carpet of the third floor. There is no door here, only a short corridor leading to an open archway to their mating room. I don’t go in there often, since the scent of another female, even as close as I am to his mate, could trigger her, but when I see candlelight flickering and hear sobbing, I disregard all my hesitations and hurry inside.
I freeze after one step when I view the sight before me. Mateo is sitting up in the four-poster bed, his eyes closed in agony as he wheezes. He’s pale, too pale, and he looks wrong. He almost seems to be devoid of life, but that’s not right. His aura is usually a stunning kaleidoscope of colours.
Phoebe, his mate, is perched on the bed, holding his hand. The floor creaks as I move closer, my heart fracturing. No, no, no. Her head snaps up, and she bares her fangs before she realises who it is and slumps. “Avea, he knew you would come,” she says through a sob. “Help me.”
I don’t waste time, my powers surging as I hurry to his side, unable to control them because of my panic, but even that show of magic drains me further, leaving me weak. The bloodstained sheets are pulled up to his bare shoulders, and I tug them down to inspect him, covering my mouth at the horrendous wound I find.
It covers most of his stomach, leaving his internal organs exposed. It’s not healing, which means it was made with a baptised weapon—the only thing that can leave life-threatening injuries. His blood drips from the large, gaping hole, and I quickly cover it with my hand, trying to staunch the bleeding.
“What happened?” I demand, my voice soft but scared.
I’m never scared. I’ve faced the worst of our race and suffered more than even my best friend below me knows, but for him? I’m scared. I can’t lose him. He’s the only family I have left. “What happened?” I demand again as she continues to sob at his side, trying to push her blood into his mouth, but he turns his head away with a weak, protesting moan.
“He collapsed into the house like this. I don’t know,” she cries. “Feed,” she orders him, but
Closing my eyes, I keep my hands pressed to his wound and force my magic through his body, trying to heal the wound, to stop the wrongness, but it snaps back to me, making me whimper at the pain. I’m too weak.
I lift my hands and look from him to her as he starts to cough.
The rot is spreading through his body.
“Avea.”
I stare down at the blood staining my palms as death reaches for him. I know death well. I have seen enough of it to know it’s coming. My back shivers with the chill of the grave reaching for my best friend, the only person in the world who has ever cared for me and wasn’t bothered by who and what I am.
“Avea!” She screams my name once more. “He’s dying. He’s dying. Help us! Help me!” The panic, horror, and agony in her tone snaps me out of my clouded delusion, and I drop to my knees at his side.
He can’t die. He can’t.
She sobs, leaning into his chest where he’s propped up in bed. His face is ashen, his skin is clammy, his eyes are an odd grey colour and bloodshot, and his fangs are turning grey. He’s dying, and the blood he coughed up is proof of his demise as it coats my palms.
It smells and feels wrong on my hands.
I lay my hands on him again, moving my powers through his body as I try to save the only person I care about in this world, but it’s useless. I sit back, my own tears falling down my face. My bright hair changes with my pain, turning dull and lifeless.
She sees and sobs harder. “No, Avea, you have to save him, you have to. I can’t lose him. Avea, please, I’ll do anything. Avea, you owe him your life, so save his!” she screams.
Too late, I realise the number of wrong choices I’ve made. I should have fed to ensure I could heal him. I should have practiced my skills to guarantee I could control them, not fear them. I’m so weak, but I cannot let him die. I can’t. He’s my only link to a world I hate. He’s the only good in this place.
His aura begins to flicker as her words penetrate my thoughts.
She is not wrong. I do owe him my life.
I will not let him die. I refuse to live a life without my best friend, without my brother.
I lick my lips nervously as a truly horrible idea comes to mind.
It’s stupid, and it arises from tales and experiences I had as a child. I was a feral fucking child, so it’s a time I hate to even think about.
It will probably get us all killed, but it’s the only chance we have. I cannot lose him, and neither can she. She would die without her mate, and I would die without my family. I don’t even know if it’s real or if it will work, but we have to try. No one from our world can save him now; he’s beyond that.
No, he needs someone else, someone more powerful than any other being on Earth.
He needs a god, and not just any god . . .
“We must go to the god of death and beg for his life,” I whisper. “Gather him, I know a place he is said to visit. We will beg for his life, beg for the god to save him.” I take her hand, meeting my brother’s mate’s grief-stricken face. “All is not lost yet. We will save him. I will make sure of it.”
I infuse confidence into my tone, more than I feel. It’s a lie. I’ve been to this place once and it was empty. I was only a child then, and I didn’t understand many things, but I understood the death I saw and felt there and the memories it held. It was only after I had come into this world properly and researched our history that I fully understood what that place was: a temple for the god of death to connect with his worshippers from this world in a time long since passed.
Laying my other hand on his heart, I ignore his weak protests as I close my eyes and transport us to the one place no living being should ever visit—a palace of death.
CHAPTER TWO
AVEA
I have scarcely enough power to evaporate all of us. It could kill me, and we could get lost in the in-between and be splintered apart like dust in the wind, but I have to try. When we arrive at the edge of the forest, I fall forward, spilling the contents of my stomach onto the grass like an offering. My chest heaves, and sweat pours down my body as I sway with the lack of blood and the draining of my power. I’m dying too, I realise, but then an arm presses against my mouth. I try to reject it instantly.
“Drink. We need you alive to save him,” she snaps. Unable to deny her and the blood, I drink just enough to bring me back without weakening her in case we need it, and then I lick the wounds clean. She’s gone in an instant, and I straighten, my eyes going to the woods I said I would never return to.
Unlike the world behind us, which is ever changing, this one does not.
The trees still reach up into the sky, the branches dark in the moonlight. The leaves rustle in the wind, creating a rainbow of colours as my eyesight returns. This place of old magic and strength is beautiful. Inside these woods, I saw a great many things others would never believe, but that is not important now.
“Avea!” she yells, and I turn to see her holding him in her arms, his own hanging towards the ground. He’s close to death, and it spurs me into action as I climb to my feet and grit my teeth.
“Whatever you see or hear in there, do not follow it, do you understand?”
“Avea—”
I shake my head. Usually, she is the strongest and wisest of us, but I know best here.
“I mean it. Follow me and keep your eyes on my back. Do not look anywhere else or you will both be lost to the wilderness.” I grab her hand, pressing it to his chest. “Trust me, Phoebe, you have to trust me.”
She nods slowly, red tears trailing down her face. “I do.”
A relieved sigh escapes me, and I press a soft kiss to his forehead, infusing it with some healing magic to try to keep him alive long enough for our journey. I’m still not strong enough to heal him entirely, but he breathes a little easier.
“I’ll save you just like you saved me, Matty,” I promise, my voice soft. “You always said you wanted to see my home, and now you will. Stay with me.” I kiss him once more before turning away and facing the trees again.
“Avea, is this the place?” she whispers, looking at the trees. There’s fear in her voice now. Good. She should be scared. There are far worse things than the god of death in these woods. “The place . . . where he found you?”
“Yes,” I respond without explaining further. It’s my and Matt’s secret, after all. “Come on, and remember what I said.”
As I plunge into the trees, a sense of familiarity and rightness washes over me. The forest welcomes me home, but Phoebe cries out and staggers. I have to reach back and drag her forward, the magic washing over her and attacking her like an invader. Once I offer her my protection, it quickly recedes.
The magic here is wild, untamed, and stronger than any being, so if it wants you dead, you’re dead. It’s the same magic that kept me safe all those years before I voluntarily walked out and into my life now. I often wondered if it would have been easier for me to stay here, in the trees and the safety they provided, but I can’t change the past.
I must focus on the present and what must be done. My feet carry me forward, even as my emotions wobble at the idea of losing him. They know the way, they know every inch of this massive, wild land, and without even meaning to, I walk faster, taking the most direct route to the palace I found whilst exploring. It’s deep in the trees, and the magic here doesn’t allow me to evaporate without an offering—one I do not have time to find—so walking it is, or more like running since we are panicked.
