Chapter 33: The Ride of Vengeance (Her POV)
My smile didn't flicker as we made our polite exits. Graceful. Composed. I thanked Luxor for the invitation. Bid Ahyona goodnight. Even nodded to Aerion one last time, my voice smooth and syrupy as I told him, "Sleep well, my lord."
Malvor never let go of my hand. He was practically vibrating with restrained chaos the entire way out. The moment we stepped through the portal into his castle, the tension shattered like glass. A horse neighed from the newly formed stable.
Arbor flickered the lights in obvious disdain. "I hate horses," the floorboards creaked. "They crap everywhere." Malvor didn't laugh.
He caught me by the waist and pressed me against the wall, his eyes blazing. "All right, Annie. What was the plan? You told a god you would let him ride you. You."
I lifted a brow, perfectly calm. "I did not."
"You did—"
"I said," I interrupted smoothly, "'Give him the horse, and tomorrow morning, he will get the ride he is begging for.'"
A huge smile overtook my face. "I never promised me, Malvor. I promised him the ride. Verbiage, darling. You should pay more attention."
His silence was delicious. Then his face shifted, that glorious, wicked delight breaking over him. "You brilliant, vindictive, perfect nightmare of a woman."
I leaned in and brushed my lips against his cheek, whispering, "You're going to help me glamor the horse. Every detail. Down to the curve of my waist."
He groaned, half impressed, half turned on. "You want to enchant the horse to look like you?"
"To be me. In every visible way."
"And when he tries—" His grin sharpened. "It will throw him."
"Hard." The horse snorted from the stall like it already knew its role.
Arbor's lights dimmed in long-suffering disdain. "I hate you both."
Malvor threw his head back in laughter. "Then you'll really hate what comes next." His eyes gleamed when he looked back at me, hungry for mischief. "I am going to enjoy every second of this." I grinned, sharp as vengeance.
That night, he rolled up his sleeves and poured chaos into his work. Magic hummed in the air as he sculpted the illusion, every shimmer of light wrapping around the horse until it became a perfect replica of me. The curve of my mouth. The gleam in my eyes. Even the tilt of my head when I was unimpressed.
"Stay still," he muttered to the double, conjuring an illusionary brush to fluff its hair. "You're supposed to look ravishing, not rabid."
The creature flicked its tail. He stepped back, crossing his arms, a grin scorching across his face. "Annie, my vengeful minx, if you could see this—"
"You mean like this?" I said.
He whirled. I leaned in the doorway, smiling slow and dangerous. "Ready for the last part of the plan?"
He eyed me suspiciously. "You said that was the plan. One body-double horse to humiliate a pompous war god. Classic."
I stepped closer, voice purring low. "That was part one. Part two? Turn me into you."
His brows shot up. "Me? Annie, you already have my heart. You didn't need my face."
"I want to be you. Sneak into the temple as Malvor himself. Deliver the 'gift.' Let him try his little performance. Mock him. Walk out. All glory, no effort. You stay invisible and watch. This is my prank. My vengeance."
He just stared for a moment, mouth open. Then that grin spread, wide, wicked, besotted. "Oh, Annie. You want to be me? Do you have any idea how many bad decisions that involves?"
I crossed my arms. "Do you have any idea how fast I would strut into that temple, destroy him emotionally, and strut right back out?"
"…Fine. But I'm making you the hottest version of me to ever exist. I want that arrogant bastard to want me so badly and get absolutely nothing."
With a flourish, he whispered in chaotic tongues, and magic surged. A moment later, I was him. Or rather, a taller, smirking, devastating version of Malvor. I flexed my new fingers. Looked down at my arms. Then, because how could I not, I poked my own chest.
"Annie!" Malvor gasped. "That was my chest! Those were premium pecs!"
I arched a brow. "Really? Because they're kind of squishy."
He clutched his heart. "You take that back!"
"Squishy," I repeated, poking again.
"Arbor!" Malvor wailed. "Make her stop touching me as me!"
The lights flickered lazily: No. You deserve this.
"Traitor," Malvor muttered. Then he spun on me, eyes bright.
"…But gods above, you look incredible."
I smirked, testing the voice, the posture, the swagger. "I'm going to humiliate him as you."
"And I get to watch," he said, nearly vibrating with glee. "Invisible. Smug. And maybe a little turned on."
"Do not make this weird."
"Annie, I was chaos incarnate. Weird was literally my brand."
I leaned in, kissed him quick and sharp. "Then let's make this one for the history books." The plan was in motion.
At dawn, Aerion stood at the top of the temple stairs, gleaming in all his ceremonial arrogance. But his swagger faltered when he saw me. Well, "me," as in Malvor. I walked too smooth. Smirked too sharp. My eyes gleamed with something just a little too extra. But the illusion was good, too good. But Aerion already believed Malvor embodied unnecessary excess, so it fit neatly into his prejudices. What didn't fit was the docile version of "Annie" at my heel. "Is she… altered?"
I laughed, loud and cocky, Malvor's laugh echoing like a whip crack across the courtyard. "Please. If I had altered her, I would've given her wings and declared her my new religion. This..." I dragged my fingers down illusion-Annie's arm, "is simply Anastasia fulfilling her purpose."
Aerion's gaze sharpened. Military. Calculating. He was measuring posture, micro-expressions, compliance. He stepped closer, circling her once like a commander inspecting a weapon. "Her will pattern is different. Still. Focused. Obedient again."
I leaned in, letting faux-Malvor's grin spread slow and cruel. "Oh, she's obedient all right. You made your deal, Aerion. Anastasia honors deals. You of all people should appreciate that."
His suspicion flickered. Then pride rose and smothered it. "Of course she does," he said, touching her jaw like aligning furniture. "She was designed for my purpose. Chaos may distract, but the Vessel remembers."
He lifted her chin, examining the eyes a compliance check. "Good. We begin recalibration immediately."
He extended his hand. Illusion-Annie placed hers obediently in his. Aerion inhaled, satisfied. "As expected. She comes willingly." he led her toward the temple doors.
Malvor, the real one, was invisible at my side near the columns, already doubled over in laughter. "Oh Annie! That was magnificent. I've never wanted to propose to myself before."
I bit back my own laughter, watching Aerion lead the docile illusion toward his temple. "You think he'll notice?" I asked.
"Oh, he'll notice. Right about the time she asks for oats and kicks down a wall."
That broke me. I clamped a hand over my mouth, snickering as chaos unfolded. Malvor snapped his fingers and conjured a shimmering dome of silence and invisibility around us. The chaos outside dimmed instantly, like a stage behind velvet curtains. Then, with another snap, a velvet love seat appeared, crimson and gold of course, along with a floating bowl of popcorn the size of my torso. We sat like royalty watching our private show.
Aerion stood before illusion-me, eyes narrowed with clinical suspicion. He circled her, studying posture, breath, eye dilation. The man was running diagnostics like she was a broken weapon. "There is interference. Remove concealment." The first illusion peeled back the obedience spell. Aerion exhaled in satisfaction. "Better."
"Oh," Malvor purred. "He's about to have the worst day of his life."
Aerion reached out to test compliance. Thumb and forefinger ready to position her chin into the appropriate angle. The horse Annie bit him. A deep bite, with human teeth, right at the soft webbing between thumb and index finger. Aerion screamed.
Malvor levitated three inches off the loveseat in joy. "YES! YES! START WITH BLOOD! START STRONG!"
Aerion stumbled back, staring at his hand like it had personally betrayed the concept of Order. He forced composure. "Minor misalignment," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Correctable."
"Oh, sweet heavens, he's going back in." Malvor held his side from his laughter.
Aerion stepped forward slow and controlled. Determined not to lose dignity twice. He reached. Horse Annie punched him. Square in the jaw. A clean, mortal, tavern-brawl punch that snapped his head sideways with a grunt. Malvor actually fell off the loveseat. "A PUNCH! ANNIE, THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY ETERNAL EXISTENCE!"
Aerion staggered, eyes blazing. His pride vibrated like a cracked bell. "That, was insolence. You will not strike a god. You will be corrected."
"Oh no," Malvor wheezed, dragging himself back into the seat. "He's going to try Forceful Discipline Protocol. Watch this. Watch this train wreck."
Aerion lunged, full body, all righteous fury. Ready to seize illusion-Annie by the arm and shove her into obedience. That was the moment the illusion shattered. Light rippled. Skin dissolved. Human limbs collapsed into something larger, heavier, infinitely angrier. Standing where illusion-Annie had been was the warhorse. In all his god-hating glory. Aerion had half a second to register it. The horse saw that as weakness and drop-kicked him. Two hooves, perfect aim, divine spite. Aerion flew backward. He smashed through a marble column, landed in a crater, and didn't get up for a full three seconds.
Malvor screamed into the popcorn bowl like a man witnessing the birth of the universe. "I HAVE NEVER! IN ALL OF EXISTENCE, BEEN PROUDER OF ANYTHING. NOT EVEN MYSELF!"
I dabbed a tear from my cheek. "This is art."
The horse snorted, stamped once on the temple floor, and because humiliation deserves flourish, turned his back on Aerion and flicked his tail. Aerion's muffled groan echoed from the rubble.
"Technically," Malvor said solemnly, raising a buttery handful in tribute, "that counted as a ride."
"I think it broke him."
"He should thank us. That horse just taught him more humility in ten seconds than his pantheon has in ten thousand years."
The temple erupted in chaos again. Priests panicked. Guards shouted. Someone fainted into a vase. I wiped at my cheek like I was crying. "My only regret, is that I can't frame this moment for our wall."
"Oh but we can, Queen of Vengeance. This realm has replay." He stood with a flourish, cape materializing out of sheer drama, and offered his arm. "Shall we depart before the bruised dignity of a war god ignites the heavens?"
I took his arm, head high, feeling every inch the goddess I wasn't, but certainly was in spirit. "Yes. Our work here is done."
The dome dissolved. We walked out together, chaos swirling around us like confetti, cloaked in shimmering mischief. Behind us, Aerion groaning in his crater, roared after us, pride shattered. "Malvor! YOU CHAOTIC SON OF A—"
Too late. We were gone. The only thing left behind was a calling card drifting through the air: A gift from your favorite trickster, and his perfect ride.
Back in the Realm of Mischief, The warhorse now named Karma got a golden stall, a crown of laurels, and a nameplate: Karma as Annie, the Slayer of Egos. Arbor approved.
Malvor leaned against the doorway like he owned the world, and me in it. Arms crossed, eyes raking over me with so much unholy delight I almost regretted this entire plan. Almost.
"Annie, Pantheon Princess, or should I say Prince?" he purred, voice wicked and low. "You have never looked better. Absolute perfection."
I raised one very dramatic Malvor brow. Gods, even my expressions betrayed me. "You are unwell."
He grinned like I'd just crowned him king of smug. "Possibly. But look at you." He circled me like a wolf admiring its reflection, humming under his breath. "That jawline. Those cheekbones. That chaotic glint in your eyes. Mmm. You were perfect."
"Because I looked like you?" I asked, delivering his own signature sneer right back at him.
"Exactly." He stopped in front of me and ran a finger down the center of my borrowed chest, humming like a man evaluating fine art. "I should really date me more often."
I smacked his hand away. "You are absolutely the worst."
"Yet here we are." He leaned closer, eyes glinting with menace and mischief. "Tell me, if I kissed you, would that count as narcissism, self-care, or a divine experience?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Try it, and I will bite you."
"Oooh, promise, Annie Beasty?"
I turned on my heel, coat flaring dramatically, his coat, his damn swagger, and stalked toward the library. He followed, of course, trailing after me like the world's most irritating puppy.
"Wait, wait, wait," he said, practically vibrating. "You did not feel like me, you know. You moved differently. Fascinating. You were all—" he gestured vaguely, "restrained chaos instead of unhinged brilliance. Honestly, nine out of ten Malvor impressions. Would recommend."
"I will never stop regretting this decision," I muttered.
He flung himself onto a velvet chaise, one leg over the armrest like a deranged centerfold, grapes hovering conveniently into his hand courtesy of Arbor. "Annie," he sighed, voice molten silk, "I must be honest with you…"
"If this is about how good I look, I swear on every god above and below—"
"You have never looked sexier," he cut in reverently, hand over his chest. "This… this was art. I am art. But you, wearing me? That was performance art."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You are completely unwell."
"Emotionally, spiritually, sexually, yes. And right now? Extremely attracted to myself."
I spun away, the long coat swishing behind me. He gasped like I'd just given him life. "You even walked like me! Annie, you had the power swagger! I'm making you do a fashion show. Malvor: The Chaos Collection."
I jabbed a finger at him, my finger, his glove. "I will punch you hard in your beautiful smug face."
"Oh, please do. I like some pain with my pleasure."
Later that evening, I barricaded myself in the library. It didn't matter. Malvor burst in with two goblets of wine and a bottle tucked under his arm like the worst kind of suitor. "Annie, my dashing doppelgänger, allow me to seduce you, with you!"
"Leave me alone." I rubbed my temples trying to exercise him through the action.
He flopped beside me anyway. "This is self-care. Pamper yourself, which is me. Drink." He slid a goblet toward me. "It's aged chaos and regret with subtle notes of mischief."
I took it begrudgingly. "This is the dumbest moment of my life."
"Is it though?" He leaned in, inspecting my fake face far too closely. "Let me massage my shoulders. They looked tense."
"You're trying to seduce me with myself."
"Yes. And it is going incredibly well."
I raised a brow. "Do you want me to call you 'Daddy' while wearing your face?"
He clutched his chest like I'd stabbed him. "Annie. I am a god. Do not tempt me with such filth unless you intend to follow through."
I drained the glass in one gulp. "I hate this."
"I love this," he countered, eyes twinkling. "You were glowing."
"That was Arbor giving me a facial mask made of powdered stardust and bad decisions."
His grin widened until it could cut glass. "Annie, you glorious disaster, I've never been prouder. Shall we go ruin someone else's day now?"
"Only if I get to punch someone in your face."
"Deal."
We clinked glasses. Arbor's lights flickered once, long-suffering disdain, before dimming like they were done with us both.