Suddenly, Alrik's gaze cut to the other side of the dais. Two women came through a red curtain partition, one with skin like glittering milk, the other a vibrant shade of ebony. Fleeting recognition crossed him as he gazed at the lighter-skinned one. She, too, paused when she saw him, her lips parting in surprise.

Alrik growled. “Come with me.” Telal nodded, following him back through the curtain and down to the study at the end of the hall that used to be his father's. It was the king's study, and only he or his special guests were allowed to enter.

Alrik swept open the doors and they slammed shut behind them, the loud crack echoed in the massive room. It looked the same, he noted. A large wooden desk, the walls filled with books and ledgers, the plush handmade rugs on the floor, and family portraits on the wall.

Alrik dropped into a tall-backed chair, his eyes cold as ice. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”

Telal took a seat across from him. “I'm here to talk business.”

Alrik laughed, the sound like insects crawling along his skin. “Business. I'm intrigued. What business could you possibly be talking about, brother?”

Telal held his questions about his family at bay. “I've finally started the negotiations to have the rift opened again.”

That seemed to take Alrik by surprise; both eyebrows flew up and his hands clenched the arm rests like he was trying to strangle them.

“Why would you want that?”

Telal stared at his brother for long moments. He'd never anticipated he wouldn't want the rift open. Not once in his life did the thought cross his mind.

“I think the better question is why wouldn't you want that?”

He came back with his own question. “You've come back to claim the throne. You know father died that night.”

“I don't want the bloody throne, Alrik. I always knew you were better for it than me.” As he said the words he cringed inside. After seeing his brother, he wasn't so sure. Something sinister wafted around him.

Alrik relaxed back into his chair, his eyes drifting off to stare idly at the wall. “My brother's come back to open the rift. Just how do you plan to do that?”

“I have an agreement with the Commander of the Atal Warriors. I have the documents with me so you can see the proposal.” Leaning forward, he took the folded proposal out of his back pocket and tossed it on the table between them. Alrik made no move to pick it up.

“Tobius en Kulev? I think I'm surprised you'd work with him, though I guess I shouldn't be since you've done it before.”

The jab cut straight to the quick. Telal stood in a rush, ready to get all the shit out. “No, Tobius died a long time ago by some renegade demons. His son, Tyrian, is in charge now. I have a loose acquaintance with him.” He left out the part involving the Bellum sisters. “He'll agree to the proposal but there are some 'ifs'.”

Alrik smirked. “Some 'ifs'...”

“Listen, that night I didn't betray you—”

His brother's booming laughter overshadowed anything he might have said. Alrik stood and walked to a long wooden table against a wall that held bottles of various liquors and glasses of various sizes. He poured himself a tall glass of frenzia, strong demonic liquor, and tossed back the harsh drink then poured another and did it again.

“I had an arrangement with Tobius to have the nether two rifts closed off for protection. I was trying to help us from all the attacks.”

Alrik nodded as if he understood. “That makes perfect sense, brother Telal. Go to our enemy the vampires and get help from them without consulting our father first. Perfect...sense.”

Telal clenched his jaw. “I know I was wrong now and foolish, but I'm trying to make things right.”

Alrik quickly turned around, his strange dark eyes swirling with an eerie energy. “Bad news for you, brother. I am king now and I don't want the rift opened.”

Telal shook his head. “Why wouldn't you that? It makes no sense.” Telal quickly thought back to all of his plans, years of planning, and already so many unexpected things had happened to throw him off. This especially he'd never figured into the equation. Of course, he didn't know his brother would be tainted too. Tainted with what? A voice asked in the back of his mind.

“Do you wish to challenge me for the throne?”

“A fight to the death? You have to be kidding me. You are my brother.”

Alrik's cool gaze turned positively icy. “As if that means anything to me.”

And just like that Telal's heart broke in his chest. A cold numb feeling drifted lazily through his body, filling his limbs and muscles with lethargy. Everything he'd worked for, to get to this moment, was shattered. He had the distinct urge to port home, put a gun to his head and blow his fucking head off. The one person he'd ever loved, his blood, hated him. How couldn't he? logic demanded. Fuck off, he told it.

“You have not become a good king.”

He had nothing left to lose now, even if his brother killed him it wouldn't be any worse than what he felt now. Hell, that would be a relief to the raw burning agony in his chest.

 Real anger surged in his black eyes. “You're here for five minutes and think you know everything about my kingdom?”

Telal took several hard steps towards him, his hands curling, ready to throw the fuck down. “Where are the prolitare? Why are all the stuffy royals drinking gaily in their finery in the castle? If anything, it looks worse now than when father was king.”

Alrik roared and charged at Telal like a massive battering ram. His shoulder slammed into Telal's stomach, shoving all the air out of him. It felt like he'd tried to shove his innards out through his spine. Telal went stumbling back, his feet slipping on the rug, then he caught his bearings and dug his feet in deep, pushing back with a roar of his own.

They both went down to the ground in a roll, elbows digging into the ground, knees cracking on the floor.

Alrik pulled back his head then whipped it forward, cracking Telal's nose like a toothpick.

“Fuck me!” shouted Telal and pulled back his fist letting it fly. He only got in one good shot before arms wrapped around him and pulled him off his brother. He fought the restraining arms and slid several feet closer to his brother who stared coldly at him from the floor. He wiped at the blood at the corner of his mouth and smeared it across his cheek.

“Get off of me!” He started channeling his magic, breathing heavily, then let his power fly. The men holding him were shot backwards as if a wave crashed into them. They slammed into tables and walls, breaking everything in their path.

Alrik cocked a brow. “Your powers have grown too, I see.”

“Pull off the guards and fight me,” he growled.

Alrik gave the order and the men slowly got to their feet and shuffled out of the study. “I have a better idea.” He jerked his head towards the door and left. Telal followed, apprehensive, his blood positively boiling in his veins with the need to lash out. Alrik led them back to the throne room. Again he saw the woman and, like a punch to the gut, recognition hit. It was Arianna...his fiancé. Surely she'd moved on a long time ago. The marriage had been prearranged by his father and mother with her parents.

His mother rose when she saw him. She wore an exquisite gown of golden sequins and diamonds that trailed behind her as she slowly came towards him. She stopped before him, her pale hands clasping together gently at her waist.

“My son Telal. It's been a long time.” She said it as if she hadn't seen him in a year, not a thousand.

“Mother,” he acknowledged. Something was different about her. Her eyes, he realized. They were harder, darker. He hadn't thought that'd be possible.

“Whatever are you doing back here?” she asked softly.