Reign of Beasts Read Online Free PDF Page B

now this. They had spent so many months protecting Rhian from her own fears, and the very real threat of the Creature Court. Now she was one of them.
    â€˜It’s my fault,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, of course it is,’ said Delphine.
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    Ashiol was still shaking with fury when he returned to the Palazzo. Garnet was back. Velody had betrayed him. Poet had betrayed him. There was a conspiracy to put Garnet back in power and he was not going through that again.
    Garnet could not be allowed to take power again, not after the tyrant he had become, last time he ruled the Creature Court. Ashiol could not stand by, supporting his former friend through the madness and vicious cruelties.
    I was loyal last time. I was so loyal I knelt down and let him carve me into pieces without raising a fucking hand to him. I can’t do it again. Can’t be that again. I will not serve.
    The only way to avoid it was to become the Power and Majesty himself. If only Ashiol had got his act together after Velody’s ‘death’ to demand the oaths from the rest of them. He didn’t have the luxury now to wallow in grief and irresponsibility. He was going to drag the Creature Court to him, kicking and screaming if he had to.
    He stood on the grass, staring at the bars on the outside of his windows, remembering how Macready had wrapped skysilver wire around them to ensure Ashiol remained imprisoned during his time of madness. There was no danger of that now. Ashiol’s thoughts were searingly clear for the first time in months.
    He had allowed Macready to cage him, had allowed himself to be domesticated by his own sentinels. Now he reached out, seizing the bars and letting the wire burn hispalms as he wrenched it free. His animor gave him strength, but using it made the wire more painful.
    When he was done, the bars lying twisted and broken at his feet, he climbed in the window and threw himself onto his bed. His hair was still damp from the unexpected plunge into the lake during his fight with Garnet and he rubbed it impatiently against the quilt until it felt dry.
    He awoke later with Isangell’s milksop of a factotum leaning over him. ‘What do you want?’ Ashiol growled.
    â€˜Her high and brightness requires your attendance,’ said the little squit.
    If his nose turned up any more at the state Ashiol was in, it would have to be pinned to the ceiling.
    â€˜Would the Ducomte like to bathe first?’ he added.
    â€˜No, the Ducomte would not like to frigging bathe,’ said Ashiol. ‘Bring me breakfast. Meat.’
    â€˜I could ring for it,’ the factotum stuttered, reaching for the bell cord.
    â€˜No,’ Ashiol snapped. ‘You. Fetch. Now.’ He leaped up and seized a random suit of clothing, tossed it on the bed. ‘Why are you still here?’
    When Ashiol reached the Duchessa’s rooms some time later, he had been partially sated by a pile of bacon, sausages and steak, having sent the cringing factotum back to the kitchens twice to restock the platter. He felt almost human.
    Isangell looked up as he entered. ‘I’m glad you used the extra time to make yourself presentable,’ she said dryly, her eyes sweeping over his bare feet and barely buttoned shirt.
    â€˜You summoned me, high and brightness?’ Ashiol replied, not bothering to press the usual sarcasm out of his pleasantries.
    â€˜Oh, stop it.’ She was unusually sombre. ‘I went to the Vittorina Royale today.’
    â€˜Did you enjoy the show?’
    â€˜Ashiol,’ she said sharply, ‘it was the site of a terrible disaster. As well you know.’
    â€˜I’m afraid I’m not up on the theatre gossip. Was the gipsy melodrama as dire as rumoured in the newspapers? The Orphan Princel isn’t as good as he used to be, you know. I hear he’s getting on a bit.’
    â€˜I know it was you,’ Isangell said in a low hiss. ‘Your people. I’m not a fool,