Read Cast in Faefire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 3) for Free Online Page B

city in the Ethereal Levant. Marion had only ever seen it through Leliel’s memories, but if it was head-on-a-pike territory, she didn’t want to visit in person.
    “We could bisect her head and each take half,” Konig suggested.
    Marion rolled her eyes. “You can’t kill a phoenix.” Violet had explained Deirdre’s nature as soon as the shifter had departed.
    “Actually, you can,” Heather said. She’d been summoned by Konig’s rage along with the Knights, and now she was skinning the dead Hound at the end of the hall. “A phoenix is rumored to be easier to kill than other shifters. The problem is that they have a nasty habit of coming back sooner or later.”
    “Even coming back ‘later’ would be preferable to having her strip my title,” Konig snarled. “She only needs to be dead until the vote!”
    Violet didn’t say anything, but the magic shimmering over her porcelain skin was distinctly smug. The fact that she’d resisted saying “I told you so” was even more miraculous than a phoenix shifter’s ability to be reborn from death.
    “We can’t assassinate Deirdre,” Marion said, more firmly the second time.
    “Heather can arrange it,” Konig said.
    “It’s true, I can,” Heather agreed.
    Marion lifted her head from her hands. “We won’t kill Deirdre over this—not least of all because it would be ineffective. She’d just be replaced by Jolene.” Jolene liked Marion as little as anyone else that she’d encountered. Worse, Jolene was, despite being described as “good people,” the kind of person who sneaked into the Niflheimr dungeons in search of the darknet.
    “I won’t give up my title,” Konig said.
    “You won’t need to,” Marion said. “We can lobby for votes the way that Deirdre will.”
    “Let me remind you that ten of twelve of your ilk already think that Konig’s position as prince is something that should be voted upon,” Violet said. “The odds are hardly in your favor.”
    “I can’t believe you signed such a thing on behalf of the angels without first consulting me,” Jibril said, turning his anger on Marion now. She was a much more convenient target than Deirdre.
    “Blame Leliel,” Marion said. “She’s the one who made me speaker.”
    Jibril pulled his wings tightly against his back. “Oh, I do blame Leliel. I blame her for a great many things.” The angels had been quick to disassociate themselves from Leliel’s attack on the Winter Court. Leliel was leader in the EL, and that leadership came with power, just as Marion’s stewardship came with ties to Niflheimr. It didn’t necessarily come with loyalty.
    Jibril had been in the throne room almost daily to foster goodwill. He’d all but kissed Konig’s feet to avoid the wrath of the sidhe. No actual foot-kissing had happened, but Jibril had agreed to perform Konig and Marion’s wedding ceremony in a public display of peace.
    “I won’t be bullied,” Konig said. “Especially not in regards to something so important to me.” He took Marion’s hand, brushing his lips over the knuckles. It reminded her of their long day in bed together. The mere memory of it weakened her knees. “We need to have Deirdre Tombs killed.”
    Marion used his hand to help her stand from the throne. “We must do this the right way. I have connections among every faction—even if I don’t remember them. I’ll pull strings and convince everyone to vote in our favor.”
    “I don’t know if that’s the better outcome,” the angel said. “What if Deirdre Tombs is right? What if your marriage makes the gods angry? What if this leads to another Genesis-like event?”
    “We can risk gods who are meant to love me destroying the world over my wedding,” Marion said, “or we can be sure that the Winter Court will fall, and there won’t be anything to keep Leliel from killing us all. One is a gamble and one is a guarantee.”
    “Lobbying for votes among factions who hate you is a hell of a gamble too,