Page 1 of To Kill a King

Chapter 1

Aliya

Aliya Larimar’s new husband, the king of Lions Grove and the human realm, planned to murder her tonight. Which explained why he’d had her locked in the castle’s cruel joke of a “honeymoon suite” instead of allowing her downstairs to enjoy her own wedding reception. The room was small, stuffy, and barely large enough to qualify as servants’ quarters.

The paper one of the maids had slipped her crinkled in her fist. Smoothing the wrinkles, she combed the hastily scrawled words for some bit of help beyond their warning.

He’s going to kill you after the party, just like he killed his other three wives.

They were mages, too.

Tearing the message to shreds, she tossed it in the hearth. The next fire would obliterate any evidence of the staff member’s interference. Some faceless servant had literally risked her life to warn Aliya. For all the good it did.

She brushed her hands over her updo, taming the blonde ringlets that had fallen loose around her face.

The room’s other occupant, a black cat sunning itself in the last of the afternoon’s light, lounged on the windowsill. The feline judged her through a half-open eye as Aliya paced between the feather bed and the cold hearth. The hem of her wedding dress swished against the floor in a mockery of the day’s events. The lace and corset itched as they chaffed her skin.

Rumor said he didn’t plan to just kill her body, but to snuff out her soul by stealing her magic, as well. After he fulfilled his duty as host at the feast, of course. It would be such poor manners to do otherwise.

At least it bought her some time to escape from this whole sham of a forced marriage. She ran to the door and jiggled the knob and pounded her fist against the wall.

Still locked.

Not like it would have mattered—the king’s guards were posted on the other side.

The cat’s glare raised the hair on the back of her neck. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder.

Yet still it eyed her, its stare unwavering.

Her gut twisted.

She hadn’t known King Malkov had a cat. Out of all the places in the castle, why was it up here with her?

She shook her head. Turning her attention away from the animal, she reached for the kernel of light at her core, scrunched her eyes closed and sent a wisp of power toward the guards.

Unlock the door and go away. Go away, go away, go away.

No click of the latch releasing greeted her efforts, nor retreating footsteps.

She sighed and curled her fingers into her palms until her nails left red crescent indents. Stupid worthless magic. All it ever caused was problems. It never actually fixed anything.

The cat’s tail swished through the air, as if irritated she’d disturbed its nap. The feline rolled its eyes.

She shook her head. No. She must have imagined that. Attributing human expressions to animals…what would she come up with next? With a sigh, she glanced out the suite’s window, trying to ignore her fuzzy roommate. The pane had no lock, but the sheer drop was deterrent enough. Her blood went cold at the sight. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of heights, more the fall and sudden stop at the end. Maybe she could use her magic to transport herself to the ground, instead.

Closing her eyes, she reached for the power within again. She imagined standing in the king’s garden, dew from the grass dampening her shoes as she sent her magic toward the window.

The glass cracked as though hit by a cast iron skillet, a lightning-shaped fissure marred the clear surface. But her feet remained firmly planted on the stone.

The cat yowled as it leaped from the sill and scrambled under the bed.

“Blast it!” A tear crept down her cheek as her throat closed. She grabbed her curly locks with both hands and tugged, heedless of the fancy hairstyle. “Why can’t you cooperate, the one time I need you,” she croaked.

With a sigh of defeat, she collapsed to the floor.

Her power had never worked right—not the way it was supposed to. No matter how many dusty old grimoires she studied, or how many times she practiced. The only thing worse than being a magic user was being one who couldn’t control their abilities. She covered her face with her hands.

She’d take up residence at the Mage College and the subsequent forced conscription to the army over this marriage any day.