Blood On The King's Hands Eso Novels & Stories

“No, no, please.” Marek dragged himself toward us, one hand pressed to his ribs, face twisted in agony. Rowan and Theo followed, limping, bleeding, but alive. Kaelan placed a trembling hand over the king’s heart. His face drained of color. “Aveline,” he choked out. The king remained still. Too still.

A flash of a face—like that of a child. Leo. I almost fainted, but Evan caught me. "Lila?" "I'm fine," I said quickly, pulling away from his grip. But I wasn’t. My instincts never failed, and I knew something was definitely wrong. The King stepped forward with a dagger etched in runes. "The binding requires blood. A drop from each of you." He sliced Evan’s palm first, and then mine. When our blood met over the fire, the flames exploded into the air. Then came a loud shout among the pack gathering, almost like that of a victory over a battle.

“His blood… really lives in you…” “Yes,” Evelyn said softly, stepping closer. “And I will use it… to end this cycle once and for all.” She raised her sword. In his final moment, Renard let out a mad laugh. “He’s not dead, Evelyn. The Blood King’s blood can never be buried. One day he will return… and you will be the one to open the way for him.” Then his body exploded into a cloud of blood dust. The chamber shook. Evelyn collapsed, clutching her chest as searing pain exploded within. Her heart pounded wildly; crimson veins burned beneath her skin.

Blood sprayed as he ripped his chest open, clawing until he ripped out the beating heart. Raban’s body hit the earth with a heavy thud, shifting back into human form. Lifeless. Elder Asher tried to flee. But the King was faster. He caught him by the back, claws slicing through flesh, tearing him into pieces until nothing but blood and bone stained the ground. The King’s fur dripped red. His claws were painted with blood. His eyes glowed with madness. Then he smelt something. Mecah. Though invisible, her scent betrayed her.

Darius moved instantly, steadying me before I could stumble. The bond flooded immediately with concern so intense it nearly hurt. I grabbed his arm automatically. Needing something solid. Something real. The King watched the interaction silently. Then his expression hardened. “The Blood Crescent is hunting her because they know what she is.” My stomach dropped violently. No. No no no. “What are you talking about?” The King looked directly into my eyes. And answered with terrifying calm. “You carry royal blood.” Silence. Complete silence. Then, i laughed , actually laughed.

He told Kian to stand up and told his son to stand beside Kian. Queen Aryn came forward holding a small knife and a goblet. Thorin took the knife and handed it to his son. Kaleb took it and bowed. Kaleb cut his palm and let his blood drips on the goblet. He cleaned the knife with the white cloth before giving it to Kian. The latter took it and do what Kaleb did. After saying another chant, Thorin made them drink the blood. Kaleb's eyes turned pure black just like when Kian was when he's in beast mode, and Kian's eyes turned pure bloody red just like Kaleb's when Night is in control but with a tinge of gold.

the elder shrieked. “What happened?” Zara panicked at once as she finally stepped forward. It was clear something had gone wrong. “Blood…the king's blood.” Malphas hissed. “That bastard king is countering our ritual with his blood.” I felt like my head was about to explode. The feedback from Kael’s blood, that royal, ancient power in it ripped through the dark channel the True Bloods had opened. The stone floor beneath me became wavy and the dust and soot rained down from the ceiling as a muffled, bone-shaking sound echoed from above. The True Blood acolytes were thrown back, their chanting turning into shrieks of terror.

The tears dried, nothing but protectiveness falling over me. My eyes flickered open, falling on the king’s bloodied skin. My hands soon let go, him slipped away to carefully place his head on the ground. My whole face, my whole body covered in nothing but blood, blood of my own mate and mine, turned to one. My body rose up, my head tipping up just as the whip cracked in the air. I held up my hand, letting it circle around the hand, pulling out blood as it caved around it, fitting like a glove.

The stone walls did not echo. "Give me your right hand." I gave it. The cut was clean. Three drops, four, five into the silver. The King held out his. The priest cut him. Three drops, four, five into the same silver. "Touch your blood to him." I looked up. His grey eyes had been on me from the moment the knife touched my skin. He had not moved. He had not looked away. I lifted my hand and pressed my open palm to his. The thing in my chest hit.

She couldn’t be dead. He grabbed onto her shoulders, running his hands through that tangled mess of the hair on her head and wiping smears of blood from her wrist . A hand rested on his shoulder. It was his second in command talking to him, telling him he was so sorry, that they’d have a ceremony, and that it was a great loss for the whole pack. But then again, she wasn’t dead. He dosen't believe it! The king snarled and threw his friend’s hand from his shoulder. “She’s not dead.” He growled, standing to face the room. He was still naked and caked in dirt and this time instead of his blood he's covered in his mate’s blood.