Novels by Miki

"No," Arthur gasped, the word tearing from his throat. He gripped Liran’s forearm with a white-knuckled desperation. "We're already exposed. We can't take any more risk. We are leaving."Liran’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "Leaving, My Liege? In your condition? You can barely stand. The streets of the capital are—""That is an order, Liran," Arthur cut him off, his voice trembling but carrying the ghost of his royal authority.Realizing the futility of arguing with a stubborn king, Liran shut his mouth and went to work. The dark blue vial was finally beginning to do its job, cooling the raging liquid fire in Arthur's veins just enough to pull him back from the edge of delirium. His mind cleared. Enough for him to drag himself up from the ground.If he wanted to stand before Malakor and the court tomorrow morning without baring his throat, he had to get this heat thoroughly out of his system tonight. There was only one way to do that.Liran helped him strip out of the heavy, suf

Arthur stared at him. The word *no* swelled in his throat, hot and choked, but it died before it could pass his lips.Malakor wasn't even hiding it anymore. The polite veneer of the loyal Regent, the thin layer of courtly deference they had both performed for years, had been stripped away like rotten bark. To demand the Royal Guard was to strip Arthur of his skin. Those three thousand blades were the only wall between the King and the hungry wolves of the council chamber. Handing them over didn't just put a sword to his neck—it handed Malakor the hilt."You..." Arthur's voice cracked. He gripped the edge of the mahogany desk so tightly his fingernails dug into the polished wood, leaving faint crescent scars. "You dare.""I dare, precisely what is necessary to keep your head on your shoulders, Your Majesty," Malakor said. His tone remained perfectly level, flat as a frozen lake, which only made the threat sharper."The Guard answers only to the reigning monarch," Arthur breathed, a col

The heavy iron bolt scraped back with a sound like a dying gasp. Arthur pulled the door open just a crack, his body trembling so violently he had to lean his weight against the frame to remain standing. The air from the corridor rushed in, cool and sharp, but it did nothing to quench the fire roaring beneath his skin. Malakor didn’t wait. He pushed the door open, his massive frame easily brushing past Arthur as he stepped into the chambers. He closed the heavy oak door behind him, the latch clicking into place with a definitive, horrifying finality. For a second, Malakor just stood there. His chest expanded as he took a deep, deliberate breath of the room's atmosphere. His eyes darkened, the pupils dilating until the dark irises were almost entirely swallowed by black. The scent of sweet peaches and heavy honey was thick enough to taste, entirely stripped of the artificial, bitter alpha mask Arthur usually wore. The raw, primal instinct struck Arthur like a physical blow. Panic

"Your Majesty, the people are demanding an heir."The words cut through the heavy, stifling air of the council chamber like a dull blade.King Arthur did not move. His fingers merely tightened around the carved obsidian armrest of his throne, the stone biting into his palm. He kept his spine perfectly straight, the heavy, gold-embroidered velvet of his robes weighing down his shoulders and anchoring him to the seat."They are becoming restless," Lord Vance continued, leaning forward over the long mahogany table, his fingers tapping an aggravating rhythm against his parchment. "The northern borders are stable for now, but a kingdom without a secure line of succession is a kingdom inviting civil war. We need a betrothal by the winter solstice.""The King is well aware of his duties, Vance," another councilor chimed in, though his voice lacked conviction.Arthur heard them, but the words were beginning to distort, sounding as though they were being spoken underwater.He kept his eyes fix