Emperor’s Throne: Desert Cursed Series, Book 6 Read online

  Emperor’s Throne

  Desert Cursed Series, Book 6

  shannon mayer

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Afterword

  Also by shannon mayer

  Emperor’s Throne

  Copyright © Shannon Mayer 2019

  All rights reserved

  Published by Hijinks Ink Publishing

  www.shannonmayer.com

  .

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of the copyright and the above publishers.

  Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Original illustrations by Ravven

  Mayer, Shannon

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  Hey, so after this many books, most people probably don’t even read this bit. And if you DO, you’re in for a surprise! Thanks to the IT guys that fixed my laptop! Because typing on a teeny, tiny mini laptop was HARD and it wasn’t until I got the REAL laptop back that the words flowed well. So don’t forget to thank your IT guys, they are often the ones who help keep authors going ;)

  Also some of my family members, thanks for being jerks and giving me so much fodder to work with. You. Are. Terrible. And that’s helped to make my career. Cheers!

  1

  Merlin

  On his knees with his forehead pressed to the cool tiles of the Stockyards at the feet of a primal goddess was not Merlin’s idea of how to start his day, never mind what he suspected would be the rest of his no doubt very short life.

  Merlin counted his breaths in and out, allowing the desert heat to sink into him, the dust filling his nose and mouth, while he waited on Ishtar, primal goddess, one-time lover, and current largest obstacle in his way to speak.

  A bug tickled along his cheek, little legs dancing on his skin. He didn’t dare move to brush it away. Then again, he wasn’t sure he could move even if he wanted. Ishtar’s power lay thick on him, pinning him to the ground, keeping him in place, and he didn’t fight it.

  The last thing he remembered before waking in the Stockyards was looking at Flora, thinking he should tell her how he felt because he wasn’t sure he would get another chance to convince her to be with him. He could feel Ishtar’s call sweeping over him, and he’d known that all his plans were finally falling into place. He’d opened his mouth to tell Flora to trust him, just one more time, and the world went dark without another sensation or memory between seeing Flora and opening his eyes in this place.

  Sweat slid down his sides as he wondered what had happened. What had he done to leave Flora behind? He’d had to let Ishtar take over him, but she was a jealous woman, and she might have used him to hurt Flora. He prayed to every deity that he knew that he hadn’t hurt the woman he’d found so fascinating, dare he say even that he loved when he’d been under Ishtar’s hold.

  Riding as close as they had been to the Stockyards and Ishtar’s seat of power, he’d been waiting for her to make her move on him. He’d been ready for it.

  Now, he just had to get her to hurt him.

  His mouth tightened as he considered how much he disliked pain. But pain was a tool, not unlike emotions. You just had to be ready to employ it and understand the effect.

  Of course, he was certain that Ishtar believed herself the one to make the moves from the beginning. He smiled to himself.

  How well his father and Ishtar had placed themselves into the world, and back in his life, and he’d let them. He’d let Ishtar use her power on him, let his father manipulate his mind. Hell, he’d barely put up a fight.

  If he hadn’t been the one they’d been trying to fool, he’d have applauded them for their maneuvering. They were both excellent chess players and looked far into the future with each move they made. And he’d learned well at their knees.

  He bit back a groan as a foot pressed into his spine, pushing him flat to the floor in a most uncomfortable way. Yes, indeed, pain was a tool, and the emotions that came with it would serve him well.

  “Merlin.” Ishtar’s voice pulled him upward, all the way to his feet as if he were attached to her by strings on a marionette. He looked her over, taking note of the wounds the Jinn had inflicted on her. Blood still dripped in places, bruises littered her fair skin, and there were several bones that looked as though they were still offset by the way they jutted under her skin, pushing forward at odd angles. Not a good look on the goddess. That she was alive at all was impressive, but that she hadn’t healed more was disappointing.

  If Marsum had been a bit more dedicated to finishing the job he’d started and had not been so concerned about running after Zam, he might have actually killed Ishtar. He and his Jinn might have been strong enough.

  That would have made everyone’s life a hell of a lot easier, most certainly his own. But the truth of it was Ishtar was already too strong, something he’d hoped to avoid. She had too many of her original powers within the jewels, each of which had strengthened over the years with the anger and hatred that had been drawn into them by those who’d held them in trust.

  That little tidbit about the stones, he’d known all those years ago when he’d taken them from her. He’d known they would grow in power, taking on the energy of the supernaturals who’d thought they’d been given a gift. That was part of the plan.

  “I see my death in your eyes.” Ishtar smiled, slow, her eyes darkening with wicked humor. “You cannot kill me. I would think you would have realized that by now, young Merlin.”

  “There are others who could do the job,” he said, spitting out a few grains of sand.

  She waved a hand at him, flashing a series of bite marks that went from her wrist to her shoulder. “She is not coming here. She has other duties to attend, problems to solve. You forget she is more soft-hearted than she lets on. That makes her easy to direct.”

  She. Meaning Zamira. Which meant he’d been right all along. Zam was special; there was something about her that could stop Ishtar. Something he could use.

  Something stronger in her than all the powers that be.

  Interesting. He’d been watching Zam from long before he’
d found her in the Witch’s Reign, and she seemed to be gathering abilities the way she gathered underdogs. Which was . . . interesting. He needed her alive.

  Merlin’s body shook with pent-up anger and the literal inability to move. “She’s stronger than you know. And she’s going to surprise you, I think.” Hell, Zam had surprised him more than once. From the beginning, she’d been a gamble to bet on when there was literally no other person to bring down the wall that separated the humans from the supernaturals, a necessary step in all his plans.

  So many twists to the path they’d all been on, and none of them realized . . . no one had understood what he was trying to do.

  Ishtar’s magic sunk into him, squeezing as if it were a boa constrictor and he the wee tiny bunny it was about to eat. “She’ll kill you,” he breathed out. “I can see it in her.”

  Ishtar had hurt the girl too many times. Her heart was too broken by all that she’d been handed in her life to not make a final strike against the ones who should have loved her most and instead handed her off to the hyenas.

  Literally, handed her off to the hyenas.

  Ishtar snapped her fingers and an overstuffed chair appeared right behind her. Slowly, she eased her body into the chair, her long limbs still moving with grace despite the wicked injuries she’d sustained. Her face was bruised, her torso wrapped with linens, her broken bones slowly piecing back together as she drew energy off the lions—her chosen creature—around her.

  “I cannot be killed, Merlin. You know this. I am a goddess of the desert. A mortal would have died with the wounds the Jinn inflicted on me. As it is, a mortal might die yet.”

  That was the problem; he did know. While his father, the Emperor, had started out a mage, a wizard some would call him, there was humanity at the base of him. And so he could be killed, as could Merlin. As could Zam.

  Ishtar . . . was not human. There was no mortality in her. That being said, he had to believe she could still be banished. There were texts, legends, about removing her from the world, about sealing her away.

  “Why haven’t you just drawn all you need to heal from your lions?” he asked.

  “Because they are mine to protect, still. If I took from them, they would all die. That’s wasteful, Merlin, when I have a far better source to refresh myself with.”

  She leaned forward, drawing his eyes to hers. “I see your face, your thoughts are like an open book. That much has not changed about you.” She laughed softly, and then winced. Her eyes darkened to pitch black a second later and her lips turned to a snarl. “Even if I did not have these stones in me,” she touched her torso and the stones she carried in her lit up as if she’d eaten a handful of fireflies, “I am immortal. I am a goddess.”

  “Then why do you need me?” Merlin asked, already knowing the answer, already preparing for the pain that would come his way. “What possible purpose could you have for me to be here if you’re so sparkly and special?”

  “I have my reasons.” She stared hard at him until the sweat trickled down his belly and pooled in his waistband. The way she looked at him, like a lion looking at its next meal, was exactly as he’d expected.

  She beckoned him forward and he stepped stiffly in her direction, wishing he could stop her and knowing he had to let this happen no matter what it cost him. Slowly, her magic curled around him, peeling his shirt off, revealing a body he was rather proud of.

  Ishtar ran a single finger down his middle, between his pecs, between his abs, to rest on the edge of his waistband.

  This was . . . unexpected.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” His eyebrows shot up, new possibilities forming. “I mean, I know I’m good, but not that good.”

  A fling, it had been a fling all those years ago between them, and mostly to piss off his father and solidify Ishtar’s help in putting the Emperor to sleep. They had produced a child that he’d only just learned about and wasn’t quite sure how to use yet. Ishtar couldn’t possibly want another child, could she?

  “Again, your face says it all.” She crooked a finger at him and he went to his knees at her feet. She slid her fingers into his hair, tightened her hand, and tipped his head so he was forced to look up at her, forced to stare into her eyes. “I do not want your body, Merlin. Not in the way you are thinking.”

  She bent over and pressed her lips to his. He didn’t dare close his eyes, and neither did she. He groaned as he suddenly, and painfully, realized how she was going to do what he’d suspected all along. Hell, what he’d known needed to happen. The how of it had been hidden from him, but this would do the trick.

  The exchange of energy was part of the kiss, as she drank down his power to bolster her own, but the other portion was the exchange of wounds.

  And there came the pain he’d known was coming.

  He screamed into her mouth as his bones began to break, as his skin split and every injury that had been inflicted on Ishtar was transferred to his own body.

  And it was killing him, bit by bit, breaking him apart as the mortal he was, but he’d known that was a possibility when he’d come here, when he’d let her take him.

  He just forgot what this kind of pain felt like.

  The smell of blood filled his nostrils, and the smell of Ishtar’s perfume, a heady jasmine that mingled with his screams.

  His mind was more open to Ishtar like this, and he had to give her something . . . something true.

  All he could think about was Flora, about never seeing her gorgeous green eyes again, the spark in her smile and the sharp bite of her words, about never having the chance to hold her close and tell her that he was sorry for the mistakes he’d made and for not telling her sooner how much she meant to him, that he wanted her by his side always.

  That he’d secretly loved her for years but let her go to have a life without him so long ago.

  His eyelids fluttered as he let that truth sink into his bones. He loved Flora. The woman was as fiery as an open flame and twice as hot, and she was everything to him. A sudden spike of pain arched his back, but Ishtar held him there as he screamed against her mouth, as his shrieks slid into whimpers and as even those faded and his eyes finally closed. “You have been a thorn in my side for far too long, and I care not that you love her. Love is not strong enough, Merlin. It never was, and it never will be,” she whispered against his mouth. “And so you have given me your final gift before you die.”

  Her hands released him, and he slid to the floor, his mind still remarkably intact despite the fact that he could feel his body dying all around him. Bleeding on the inside, breaking to pieces. Barely, barely, he hung on.

  “Why?” He managed that one word. “Tell me that much. Why would you kill me, of all those you could take?”

  She laughed. “Say please, Merlin, if you want to know the truth. Before you die, that is.”

  He couldn’t keep his eyes open and the pain was fading which he knew was a bad sign. “Please.”

  “See, you can listen, you can learn.” Her mouth was suddenly against his ear, as close as if they were once again lovers.

  “Really, it’s quite simple. I see you, Merlin.” Her eyes filled his vision. “And I know exactly what you are up to, which means for me, for the world, and mostly for Zam, you have to die.”

  2

  Zamira

  It was the first night after the battle with Ollianna and her stupid fucking Swamp witches, a battle that we’d lost, no less. Not just lost but watched as Ollianna—pregnant with a world-destroying monster—escaped to cause havoc on the world. We’d survived, yes, but we’d not been able to stop her, and that loss would bite us all in the ass in three. Two. One.

  I curled up my lip as I stared at the fire that Maks had started. We were not far from the crossroads, and into the edges of the desert where the ground was harder and the rocks, more often than not, were boulders instead of sand.

  Maks crouched next to the fire, pushing the coals and chunks of wood around, sending sparks flying into the night sky
. His movements were tight, sharp, and full of tension that I felt all the way to the soles of my feet. My brother was curled up in his lion form, sound asleep and doing a strange snoring purr that was far too cute for a fully grown lion shifter. That sound and seeing him so at rest eased the curl of my lip. We’d lost the battle, but not the war. And my brother had come back to us, to me. So we had gained, not only lost.

  Maks tipped his head at Bryce. “You think we should wake him? His watch is soon.”

  I sighed. “No, let him sleep.” My brother had been through enough, and the least I could do was let him rest in peace. For one night anyway. “I can’t sleep anyway. Too wound up.”

  Maks scooted over to sit next to me, leaning back on the two saddles I was already propped against. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close to him. His smell slid around me the same way his arm did. Hot desert sand and a musky Jinn smell that I would have said before I hated. But on Maks, it was fucking sexy.

  “Think we can just run away and pretend like the world doesn’t need us?” he whispered in my ear. “Let someone else do the heavy lifting?”

  I smiled as I put my head against his shoulder, breathing him in and trying not to think about everything we’d been through. Trying not to think about losing him—again. “You think you could live with yourself? I mean, we are trying to keep up to a legend.”