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If she refused to trust me, all of my planning was useless.
Eight days.
Panic clawed at my chest, and I fisted my hands beneath the table, my nails digging into my palms. I couldn’t free Jamic without help.
Eight days.
I would never have the daughter I would have adored. I’d sacrificed that life for the ability to find Madinia, and the stupid little whore had ignored my message.
“Your fury surprises me,” Sabium remarked.
I cleared my throat, raising my gaze to his. “The hybrid heir made a fool out of me. She infiltrated my closest circle. To learn that she escaped is…disappointing.”
That seemed to please him, and he lifted his cup once more, drinking deeply. This was the most we had spoken since he had begun “courting me” all those years ago. It was…unsettling.
I moved some of the food around on my plate.
“Something on your mind?” he prodded.
I gestured at the table between us. “Why…”
“A private dinner?” Sabium shrugged one shoulder. “It can be…tiring to wear the mask at all times. But I don’t have to wear that mask with you, do I, Kaliera?”
No, he didn’t need to wear a mask with me. I was one of the few people who knew exactly who and what he was.
“I heard about the carriage situation.”
I lifted my head, attempting a casual tone. “Tymedes overstepped.”
He smiled. “I hadn’t realized how much you loathed him. That, more than anything else, will keep him alive during the coming months.”
My skin prickled with suppressed hatred. How this man loved to taunt me.
Sabium took a sip of wine, ignoring the plate in front of him. “I expect you think I’m a monster.”
I gave him a dry smile. “You are a monster.”
Amusement darted over his face. He turned his head, gaze distant as he stared out the window.
“My son could have lived, you know. If humans were given stronger power. If the gods hadn’t given most of that power to the fae and hybrids.”
I kept my expression carefully neutral, suppressing my urge to sneer. I needed to be very, very careful of Sabium in this mood.
“Crotopos was a good man,” Sabium said.
I drank my own wine, using the movement to hide my grimace. Many people in this kingdom could have lived if not for Sabium and his obsession with his dead son.
Sabium raised his eyebrow, as if reading my mind. His gaze met mine. “Crotopos would have been a firm, unyielding ruler. His son…”
The death of Sabium’s son had unlocked something dark inside the king. But when Crotopos’s wife and son died during childbirth, all that darkness had come spilling out.
Because if Sabium hadn’t declared war on the fae, there would have been healers in the castle who could have saved his daughter-in-law and grandson. Sabium couldn’t live with the guilt. Couldn’t accept that his actions had led to their deaths. So he fanned the flames of his hatred instead.
Rather than mourn his family, Sabium stole a newborn son from a poverty-stricken village woman and told the kingdom his grandson had survived. He had his men slaughter the villager’s entire family—including her three other children—so his actions could never be discovered.
Sabium could have raised that boy as his grandchild if family had been what he truly wanted. Instead, he’d come up with his despicable plan.
And all these years later, he still lied to himself. He still insisted that if his family hadn’t died, he would have been a better man.
