The Umbra King (Vincula Realm Book 1)

Later that night, Rory stepped out of the shower and slipped her shift over her head. When they delivered her new clothes, they took her old ones to wash. She’d have to wait until they brought them back before she ventured into town.

She found a comb and other toiletry items under the sink and began working the knots from her hair when someone knocked on her door. Before she could cross the room, the door opened, and Samyaza stood on the other side, looking imposing as ever.

“Caius has summoned you,” he said robotically.

Rory glanced from her shift to the mountain in front of her. “Now?”

He said nothing and stepped aside for her to exit into the hallway.

She waved her hands over her body. “I need to change first.” There was no way she was seeing the king like this.

Sam glared at her. “You will come now of your own accord or I will drag you. The choice is yours.”

She huffed, jabbed her feet into a pair of slippers they’d given her, and followed the commander down the dark hall. By the time they reached the top floor of the palace, her calves were locking up, and she was sweating. “Is this part of the torture?” she asked between pants, never realizing how much her Fey strength helped her until now.

“Come,” was his only reply. She lifted her middle finger to his back and before she could lower her hand, he spun around and grabbed her wrist. “If you do that to the king, you will no longer have a finger to raise.”

She snapped her jaw shut from its unhinged position and nodded dumbly. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Sam’s eyes bounced between hers, and she thought the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. “No, you are not.”

He stopped in front of an enormous set of wooden doors and knocked, and Rory couldn’t quell her nerves. Someone who had the infamous Samyaza knocking was someone to be feared.

The doors opened, and shadows retreated across the room. Rory recalled the smooth feel of them against her skin and shivered.

Sitting behind a large, cherry wood desk was the Umbra King. She wasn’t used to seeing people in color, and looking at him was a shock all over again.

His blonde hair was slightly mussed, the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a strong, tanned chest, and one of his elbows rested on the arm of his chair. Despite his light hair, he was the living embodiment of enchanting darkness.

He watched her step into the room, and his eyes traced clinically down the length of her shift before settling on her exposed thighs. Instead of fidgeting under his inspection, she set her jaw and stared him down.

“Miss Raven,” he drawled. His voice was rich and smooth, and she felt his shadows on her back, forcing her to walk. She was tired of that. When she stood in front of him, he leaned forward. “You have been assigned to kitchen duty, and you will help the maids when needed.”

Surprise ricocheted through her. She was certain she would have been tasked with mucking the stables or something equally horrible. There are no horses in Vincula, she remembered. Because of the lack of sunlight, the only animals and plants in the realm were nocturnal.

“You will be on the third shift,” he continued. “You are to report at three a.m. sharp.”

Rory’s eyes bulged. She wasn’t certain of the time, but she assumed it was ridiculously late. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

His eyes lifted. “That is not my concern.”

He stood, walked to a door on the far side of the room, and disappeared. She stared after him in disbelief. Had he really dragged her halfway across the palace to tell her something that could have been relayed through Sam in one sentence?

She looked around the room for the first time since entering and realized it was his office. Bookcases lined most of the walls, and it was much brighter than the hallways.

Noticing a set of filing cabinets at the back of the room, she pointed at them and turned to Sam. “What are those for?”

His eyes flicked to the cabinets. “Contracts.”

She didn’t understand why they needed paper contracts; their sentencing was bound by magic. “Why do they have paper contracts?” she mused as Sam led her from the room.

He lifted a light brow. “What an odd thing to ask.”

She shrugged. “It’s an odd thing for a Royal to do.”

“The contract has information on each inmate, their crimes, and their sentencing,” he explained. “The king cannot memorize every inmate, and they are used for reference if needed.”

“Oh,” was all she could think to say.

When they arrived at her room, she wiped sweat from her forehead and prayed the kitchens were on the same floor. She knew an inmate’s appearance stayed the same during their time in Vincula, but she hoped her muscles would learn to take the stairs without killing her every time.

They weren’t bad when she went down the first time, but after going up and then back down again, she was dying.

Sam opened her door and said, “Change. Work starts in an hour. I will show you the way.” It was worse than she thought.

Grumbling under her breath, she grabbed one of the hideous uniforms from her dresser and stomped to her washroom. When she emerged, Sam tipped his head to the hallway. “I would prefer to get to sleep at some point tonight,” he informed her.

She glared at him, but quickly schooled her face into one of indifference. He didn’t seem the type to tolerate back talk. Her work boots were by the door, and she pulled them on as quickly as possible before following him down the hallway and into the kitchens.

“Nina,” he called out. “Fresh meat!”

This time she did glare, and to her surprise, he smirked. A girl who looked to be a couple of years older than Rory stepped out of a closet and frowned. “Good. Staying up late for her was not on my agenda.”

She was beautiful, with curves that would make Rory jealous if she weren’t in prison, and smooth skin the color of Lenora’s porcelain cats she displayed in her room. Nina eyed Rory in cold assessment, and her scowl deepened.

“If it isn’t the famous Butcher.” The repulsion was clear in her voice, and Rory steeled her spine. Nina stepped back into the closet and grabbed a bucket full of cleaning supplies.

Sam turned to Rory. “Remember what I said about transgressions,” he warned before turning on his heel and leaving her alone with the sour woman.

“What color is your hair?” Rory asked, without thinking. It was a shade she did not see often.

Nina’s face screwed up. “It’s red. Did they not teach you colors in school?” Rory itched to slap her, but before she could snap back, the bucket of supplies was thrust into her hands. “I hope you like scrubbing grease.” She tilted her head. “You do know what an oven is, don’t you?”

Ignoring Nina’s jab, Rory laughed under her breath at the cliché of being assigned the grunt work after all. “Where will I be starting?”

A cruel smile spread across Nina’s face. “Follow me.”

The woman led her through a series of kitchens, pointing out various ovens and stoves. Why did they need so many kitchens? Rory thought to herself. Seemed like overkill.

“Do not stop until they are spotless,” Nina sang before leaving.

Rory bent in front of the first oven, exhaustion making her body groan. Her eyes crossed at the sheer amount of grime coating the metal. It was obvious they had not been cleaned in some time.

Her mother kept their kitchen appliances immaculate, passing the habit down to Rory, and because of this, they were easy to clean. The thought made her sit back on her bottom, and the cool stone soaked through her dress.

For the first time since being arrested, she cried.

Her hands covered her face as pictures of her mother assaulted her. Her bright smile on good days, her dwindling state of mind, and her barrage of questions over breakfast. Rory would never get to laugh at her mother’s silly questions again.

As a sob ripped from her chest, a warm, weathered voice filled the room. “You don’t seem the type to cry over a little grease.”

She lifted her head, and a man who looked to be roughly one-hundred and twenty years old stood across the room with his hands in his pockets. She searched his face for the usual taint of disdain but found none.

A sharp retort was on the tip of her tongue, but something made her swallow it. “My mother is a Sibyl, and I was her only caregiver.“ She didn’t know why she told him.

Understanding filled his eyes, followed by pity. “Do you have any other family to care for her?”

“No,” she replied, anger filling her voice. “My sister was murdered, and my parents divorced when my mother’s powers manifested. My father will step up, but she wouldn’t want him to.” Her answer brought on a fresh wave of tears.

“I heard you’re sentenced to half a millennium.” He whistled. “But not hell.”

She hardened her gaze and waited for the blow. “Go on, then. Call me whatever you’d like.”

The man shook his head. “The Scales of Justice is never wrong. If she sent you here, I suspect there’s a reason.”

Rory looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes as shame heated her skin. “I am a monster,” she rasped. “I did everything they said.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you had your reasons.” Before he turned to leave, he said one last thing, “Dry your tears or they will eat you alive. Kitchen staff will be here in an hour.”

Dragging her hands across her face, she nodded, but before she could thank him, he disappeared. Sighing, she climbed to her knees and started to scrub, realizing she hadn’t asked the man his name.

Caius lingered outside the doorway to the kitchens, cloaked in shadows. He told himself he came for his usual late night sweets, but he knew it was a lie. His curiosity about Aurora Raven led him here against his own protests.

After overhearing her conversation with Max, a man convicted of breaking his neighbor’s legs with a shovel for disrespecting his wife, Caius stopped himself from entering the room.

The woman wept over her mother, concern and regret lacing her every word, but those were traits black souls did not possess. Unless she’s acting. Admitting to her crimes so freely suggested she was exactly what he thought her to be. Black inside, no matter how beautiful on the outside.

It was obvious his sister knew this woman would tempt him because physically, Aurora was everything he sought in a partner when he could still move freely between the two realms.

Adila also knew he hated black souls more than anyone. As a child, he would cower when one was near because the feeling of them covered him like poisoned vines.

Being locked in Vincula weakened his power, and although he was still strong, it was possible his ability to sense black souls was gone. Until now, he had not been around one.

After Max left, Caius stepped from the shadows through the doorway toward Aurora. “Your face looks a bit swollen, Miss Raven.”

The woman looked up, hatred transforming her face, and Caius chuckled lightly. She’d called him Bane with the same look, and the memory made him study her more closely. “Who are you?”

A black soul in Vincula, calling him by anything other than his given name or title, was not an ordinary inmate.

She threw the brush she held into the bucket of soapy water and glared. “I am The Butcher, Your Grace, and I will not hesitate to string you up with a dagger in your heart.“ He had no doubt she meant every word. There were two ways to kill a Royal: a dagger to the heart or decapitation, and she clearly had a thirst for blood.

His anger rose fast, and shadows struck like vipers, knocking her on her back as they gripped her throat. “You are a vile creature, and if you threaten me again, I will send you to hell myself.”

Her chest heaved as her face reddened. Despite his aversion, he couldn’t help but drink in her body.

Her grey eyes sparked with fire, standing out against her dark hair, streaked lightly around the ends. She was fit, with lean muscles, small tits, and long legs. Her face was one of the most beautiful he’d ever seen, and he ground his teeth. Fucking Adila.

Aurora Raven would be his greatest temptation. The thought made him release her and take a step back. “Finish scrubbing my kitchens, and mind your tongue, or you will lose it.”

He left, his late-night snack forgotten as he decided to have Sam travel to Erdikoa and find out everything there was to know about the notorious killer.

Caius needed sleep, and tomorrow, he would find a way to relieve the tension brought on by the woman he left behind.

Rory thought her arm was going to fall off. Who knew cleaning ovens was such a workout? She’d been cleaning for so long the breakfast crew had come and gone, and now it was quiet again, save for a few staff members preparing breads.

She couldn’t shake her encounter with the Umbra King, and not for the first time, she hated herself for being stupid. Playing it smart was how she would find her sister’s soul, not pissing off the man who held it.

Her knees cracked as she stood, and she was glad she finished before the lunch crew came in. If she never had to scrub another oven for the rest of her life, it would be too soon. She hauled her bucket to a nearby sink to rinse the grease and grime from her supplies before heading out.

After putting everything away, she asked a passing maid where Nina was. She didn’t know if she was supposed to check out for the day or not and decided she’d rather be safe than sorry. The last thing she needed was an extra shift.

Finding her way to the room number given to her, she knocked on the door, and it swung open as soon as she touched the wood. Her mouth dried at the sight before her.

“I’m ready for you,” Nina purred over her shoulder to Caius, who stood naked behind her. The head maid was on all fours, wearing only a bra as she presented her bare ass like a bitch in heat.

The king met Rory’s stare and pinned her in place.

“Are you here to watch, Miss Raven?” he asked in a rough voice as his hand found his hardening cock.

She stared at the king’s muscular body; he was a magnificent suit harboring a murderous beast.

Nina twisted her head toward the door. “Shut the door, you fucking pervert.” The woman’s voice grated on Rory’s nerves, and she clenched her fist while glaring daggers at the king’s shadows billowing on the ground around him. If they grabbed her, she would make it her life’s mission to light the palace up like an Aatxe soul.

“Or is this your thing?” Nina continued as she sat back on her heels. “Did you watch your victims fuck before acting out your own sick fantasies?”

Rory’s body vibrated with anger. The ‘fuck you’ sat on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. Caius watched her darkly as she grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it shut as she left.

Her anger at the words from that horrible woman’s mouth grew as she stomped through the hallway. She knew the staff would hate her, but to see her sister’s murderer look at her like she was filth was too much.

At least her victims deserved it. Cora had the sweetest soul in all the realms, and he stole it. She knew her methods were cruel and disturbing, but she couldn’t find it within her to care.

Caius stared at the door as it slammed with Aurora’s anger, and the second she was gone, his cock deflated. He pumped his hand and closed his eyes, but the traitorous appendage wouldn’t cooperate. He frowned at Nina’s back.

When he was free to pass between realms, Caius only fucked women in Erdikoa, but since being locked in Vincula, he took mistresses who weren’t sentenced very long, allowing him to switch often. Nina was his current mistress, and at the moment, he cursed the day he first took her to bed.

They wouldn’t remember him when their time was up anyway.

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he bent over and grabbed his clothes.

“What are you doing?” Nina asked. “Don’t let her ruin our fun.” Her smile was coy as she ran a hand up his chest.

He pushed her arm away. “We’re done here.”

Nina’s sharp intake of breath made him dress faster. He needed to leave.

“Caius,” she said before he held up a hand.

“I’m leaving, and you will not follow, nor will you question my decisions again.”

Her mouth snapped shut, and anger took over her sharp features. As he left, she stomped to her bathroom and slammed the door as Aurora had.

The difference was he didn’t care if Nina opened hers again.