There was a moment, briefly, when Fire let up and doubt crept in, when Aidan saw the ash and bodies of his comrades for what they truly were—crimes he’d committed, treason.
Murder.
But with Tomás burning at his side, that moment was barely a flicker in his consciousness. With Tomás, all sins were forgiven.
All sins were encouraged.
With Fire, all sins were glory.
“I underestimated you,” Tomás said. “I thought I would have to kill them.”
Aidan didn’t want to think about that. To think on that would be to look back. Fire didn’t look back. Fire burned.
Fire burned.
“What do we do now?” He looked away from the bodies. “You’ve given me the throne—”
“But you want more,” Tomás interrupted.
Aidan turned to face him; the heat between them could melt mountains. But Aidan knew he could be stronger. Should be stronger. Calum was just the start. Scotland was just the start. He knew as much from what he’d seen in the vision—there was more power to be had, power that he couldn’t even comprehend.
The power to bring back the dead.
“I want it all,” Aidan said.
Tomás just smiled, his canine pulling on his lower lip. Aidan wanted to bite that mouth, to taste every inch of the Kin who called him king. Power rode through his veins, elation at having finally done what he had set out to do years ago. And that power refused to dam itself in the confines of this castle.
“I will give you everything,” Tomás replied. He stepped in closer, looked down into Aidan’s eyes, traced Aidan’s lips with a burning finger. “Everything, and more. But we all have parts to play. And yours, my king, has just begun.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I am here to play a bigger game. As are you.”
“What game?”
Tomás’s smile widened. He leaned in closer. Threatened to burn Aidan alive.
Which was all Aidan truly wanted.
“I have given you what you desired,” Tomás said, his lips so close to Aidan’s he could taste the Kin’s tongue. “And now, you will give me what I seek.”
“Which is?” Aidan asked breathily. Fire filled him. Fire promised to give the incubus anything he so asked.
“I want the key to my brother’s creation.” His words a bedroom purr. His eyes sparking prophecies. Aidan leaned in.
And Tomás stepped back. Pointed to the corpse at their feet. Even that distance made cold and need ache in Aidan’s chest.
“Bring me the shard that brought him back to life,” Tomás said, “and I will grant you the world.”
Visions flashed through Aidan’s mind—the flames, the power, the bloody graveyard. The Dark Lady and Calum’s corpse. The impossible resurrection.
“Yes,” Tomás whispered. “I know you have seen it. I know her words speak to you. You have seen the truth.”
Aidan shook the visions from his mind. Everything tumbled in his head, puzzle pieces without a board. Fire’s hum didn’t help; he was drunk on the power, and any direction felt futile.
“Where is it?”
“If I knew that, why would I ask you?” Tomás snapped.
Aidan jolted at the anger in Tomás’s voice. Then Tomás shivered. Regained composure. Ran a hand through his hair with an elfish grin.
“I would apologize,” he said. “But I feel you know what it is like to experience things...fiercely.”
Aidan nodded, felt the curtains draw back over his fear, hiding the doubt and rationality.
“Find me the shard,” Tomás continued, his voice dropping back to its purr. “Rule your kingdom. Then you will learn the rest of our game.”
He wanted so badly to reach out to Tomás, to pull the incubus closer, to celebrate his victory with all the passion and pleasure Fire promised them. But Tomás took another step away, toward the shadows, toward the statues, and Aidan stayed rooted in place.
He wouldn’t pine.
He would make the Kin come to him.
“I will be watching,” Tomás said.
“I’m counting on it.”
Tomás paused. As though that were not the response he’d expected. As though he didn’t think Aidan could be an equal.
Then his eyes flickered to Kianna’s body.
“I wouldn’t tell her about me, were I you. I don’t think she would approve.”
Aidan laughed and looked back at his only friend. “She doesn’t approve of anything.”
Tomás nodded.
Then he opened to Air, a flicker of pale blue in his throat. The next moment, he was gone.
Emptiness settled on Aidan’s shoulders the moment the Kin disappeared. It sank though his bones, curled in his gut. Emptiness, and cold, and purpose. He reached into his flame and forced it through his bones. He would not let Tomás’s absence sadden him.
He refused to need the Kin for anything.
He refused to need anyone for anything. Not anymore.
Aidan looked around at the frozen sculptures, the humans Calum had twisted into some otherworldly art. At the blood-smeared wall—my gift, my king—and the broken body bleeding out beneath it.
This was his home.
His castle.
He had earned it.
And as he stared at the corpses, as he looked up into the shadows and cobwebs on the rafters, as he let his senses stretch out to the firestorm above, the battle slowly dying down in the city, he realized that he didn’t want this.
The castle was too small.
Scotland was too small.
Calum had been content to contain his rule here. But not Aidan. This was a mausoleum.
Calum ruled only the dead.
Aidan would rule the world.
He reached down and yanked the dagger from Calum’s chest, and set about the gruesome task of sawing off Calum’s head. He would need more than his word to make his fellow Hunters follow him. And what was a revolution without a little decapitation?
Maybe he’d even get some cake.
When finished, he walked down the aisle, gripping Calum’s hair in one hand, Fire burning with purpose in his chest.
He would spread.
He would devour.
He would find the shard that Tomás desired, and he would in turn take everything the incubus could offer.
And more.
He pulled through his Sphere. The statues beside him burst into flame. One by one, he set the corpses alight. Their rising embers a swirling crown above him. The only crown he needed. A baptism of Fire was the only coronation that suited.
When he reached Kianna, he gently looped her arm over his shoulder and carried her away from his comrades. Out the great doors into the frozen courtyard beyond.
The Sphere of Fire smoldered in his chest. Guided him forward. Ever forward. Ever hungry.
The moment the door closed behind them, he reached through that poisonous power and let the castle feel the weight of his might. Fire burst through the stained-glass windows, snaked its way over stone and frozen skin. He felt Fire feed, felt it devour the statues of Hunters long past, the support beams of the hall, the corpse of Calum.
The throne too small for him to occupy.
He fed it all to the flames, and Fire delighted in the feast.
That’s when Kianna woke up. Startled from the thunderous boom as the roof caved in and the sky burned bright with his power.
“What...” she mumbled. She stood straighter. “What happened?”
“It’s over,” he lied. He held up Calum’s head. “We won.”
He knew it wouldn’t be explanation enough forever. But for now, it was.
She stopped. Pushed herself off of Aidan to look back at the inferno.
“We won,” she repeated, a whisper. A single tear slid down her face. “You bloody bastard. You did it.”
“Aye,” he said. “I did.”
There was a moment, watching the tears of pride and who-knew-what-else fall down her face, that he felt the twinge of shame. He had lied to her. He had killed his co-commander, his lover. He had agreed to help Tomás, and had promised to never tell Kianna about it. He was no better than the monster he had just ended.
Kianna looked to him. Sniffed at the tears.
“Less than ten minutes in command, and everything’s already gone up in flames. I guess I expected nothing less.”
Aidan broke out in laughter, Fire curling back into his chest, burning the doubt and the shame away.
“What can I say?” he asked. “I wanted to redecorate.”
“You’re going to tell me everything,” Kianna said, turning away from the blaze. “But first, I need a fecking drink.”
“Done.”
Together, they walked down the path while Edinburgh Castle and all of its terrible secrets burned behind them.
Behold, the reign of Aidan, he thought. He looked down to Calum’s head.
Aidan smiled.