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Is he worried someone would overhear? Is that why he spoke to me this way?With a hesitant nod from me, Asmo pushes open the double doors. And as promised, his gaze turns to solid ice.
Inside the meeting hall is a vast wooden table stretching from wall to wall, surrounded by a dozen or so men and women. It could easily seat twenty if needed. As the conversations in the room die, the room falls into hushed silence, every gaze shifting toward us.
A flush rises in my cheeks, my skin prickling with the collective pressure of those curious stares. To my delight, neither of us is introduced. Though I suppose they already know him. Instead, Asmo guides me inside with a warm hand pressed to the smallof my back and I keep my eyes glued to that table, admiring the way the light catches the carved details of the map on its surface. It depicts the realms and islands I could recognize in a heartbeat, and right now, those carved lines are keeping me from having to make eye contact with the other lords and ladies.
“It’s nice of you to join us.” I recognize the queen’s voice, bowing slightly and flaring the skirt of my dress. Asmo doesn’t follow suit, and instead, rushes forward to pull out an empty seat for me. Only once I’ve settled into it and he’s pushed me forward do I lift my gaze.
He takes the chair next to mine as he answers the queen. “We’d… Gotten lost.” Asmo's words hang in the air, his tone frosty and devoid of warmth.
The Queen is standing behind the king at the head of the table, eyes narrowing on Asmo as if she doesn’t quite believe him. I don’t blame her. It’s a terrible excuse. He grew up here. There’s not a chance in hell that he got lost. Even I know that.
Alice relaxes as her gaze turns to me. Her eyes crinkle with affectionate warmth as her lips curve into a nurturing smile. “Valeria,” she says, her tongue rolling over my name like it’s royal, “so nice to see you again.”
Her blue eyes all but sparkle in the mage lights, looking every bit the queen she is with her vibrant red curls that cascade around her golden crown. She’s in similar fighting leathers, like the ones I’d seen her wear yesterday, but these are made of some sort of dark golden scales. In the center of her chest is the kingdom’s symbol, a deep crimson color that reminds me of blood. It’s a depiction of serpents and a single blooming rose.
Last night, I was around her. She’s the most powerful woman in the Seven Realms, yet her magic didn’t spin through me or burrow into my bones. It was contained, leaving only the faintest of whispers floating along my skin. Just like it is when I’m around Asmo.
However, as I turn my attention around the table, taking in the other creatures, no one here should be able to radiate the power I feel. There’s only one man I’ve known to make my skin prickle like this, like tiny thorn vines have wrapped around every inch of me.
The King of the Seven Realms.
Asmo must sense my unease. I feel something just on the edge of my awareness, like invisible hands sliding over my thigh, squeezing it, letting me know he’s here. My heart settles, just a bit, still battering away at my ribs as I take in the other creatures.
One couple, I recognize immediately, seeing the subtle similarities in their faces. A man with dirty blonde hair, combed perfectly, along with a short beard. He has the same warming, and welcoming eyes as Griffin, though they’re a different color. Same flirty, contagious grin, too. His gaze slips over me, then shifts to Asmo.
I can feel Asmo watching me, his attention boring into the side of my face as if he’s gauging whether I’ll run for the hills or not. Shifting in my seat, I lengthen my spine, making myself taller, and lift my chin, pretending the nerves aren’t eating me alive.
Beside the man I’ve singled out as Griffin’s father, a white-haired woman who embodies the very definition of goddess-like beauty twists her lips. She’s where Griffin got the color of his eyes. They’re so vibrant and ethereal, they’re impossible to miss. She’s also where he got his unmatched grace. Even the gentle twist of her lip is godly. Divine.
“You should stop staring. Trust me, the last person you want to piss off is Eva. Her beast couldn’t care less about who and what you are, or who you’re attached to. To it, you’re dinner,”Asmo warns, and I jerk my gaze away.
“Well, now that we’re all here, we can commence. As all of you are aware, the Lord Elcrys of the Elven Islands has declaredwar.” The queen places her hands on the table, standing next to her husband.
His power is relentless, filling the room until the molecules in the air vibrate. It even taunts my crystal pendant, making it hum in soft musical notes, even from afar. Bringing my hand to it, I attempt to smother its cherry glow, but it only seems to become brighter by the second. Brighter than I’ve ever seen it before.
This is exactly how it had been in Vanderlyth when he visited my father. Expect, I’d been floors away from him then. Now, being in the same room… His raw, unchecked power is enough to make any creature tremble in its presence. It’s enough to take my breath away.
“Breathe, Valeria.”Asmo caresses the edges of my mind, coaxing me to calm as I turn my attention toward the head of the table, in the chair next to where Alice is standing is the king, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.
The moment I lay my eyes on him, the king looks up from his laced hands, staring at Asmo and I for a long moment. His amber eyes are so much like his brothers. I nearly gasp. If it weren’t for the scar on Asmo’s face, and his slightly wider nose, they could be identical if Asmo were to cut his hair.
Where Asmo’s is half tied back, his blue-black waves ending at his shoulders, the king’s is shorter on the sides, the messy waves on top falling in wayward strands over his eyebrows, swirling around the golden crown on his head. Even those hauntingly familiar eyes are filled to the brim with latent power, causing goosebumps to rise over my arms.
The queen’s hands are splayed across the wood grain, her eyes traveling around the table as she speaks. “Lord Elcrys has hinted at such idiocracy for a long time now, but he’s made his intentions clear in the recent days. His official declaration accompanied an unprovoked strike against one of our shipping ports.”
“Yes, what about Ogre’s Landing? Any survivors?” A man with curved horns, seated across from me, speaks up, his elbow perched on the tabletop as he twists his wrist in the air. “Thornben?”
“That’s Lord Zule. He controls Mythar, the only port inland, and ensures the River Styx isn’t overrun with ships and boats so that the souls traversing back to the Well are uninterrupted. He’s asking if the Lord of Ogre’s Landing survived.”
“No,” the queen’s voice is quiet, her head bowed. “The elves used some sort of magical bomb. It incinerated everyone within the village, the ships, the docks… There are still fish and creatures from the ocean washing up on the shore,” Alice trails off, dragging a hand over her mouth as if she’s struggling to continue, but she meets Lord Zule’s eyes anyway. “No one made it out.”
“Lord Elcrys deserves to rot for what he’s done,” another man says. His skin holds a bluish hue, his eyes larger than most. He squints as if the light irritates him, not in an angry way, and from between those slits, I can barely make out the vibrant neon color of his irises. It’s as if he dwells underground or in the deepest areas of the forests, where the light doesn’t touch. A nymph of some sort?
“And that would be Egress, Lord of the caverns. For the most part, he’s quiet and more comes to these things out of duty. For him to say someone should die…"Asmo trails off, but I can see him tip his head out of the corner of my eye.“It’s gotten under his skin.”
“Elcrys is responsible for wrecking Grim’s Keep, too. After I’d already been pushed through the boundary, he’d interrogated my people. When they couldn’t give him what he was after, he killed the men and locked the women and children inside the keep before setting it on fire.” Asmo doesn’t look up from where he picks at his nails. They’re surprisingly clean, but he seems tofeel otherwise, as if there’s invisible blood or dirt caked there that I can’t see. “If he wants war, let there be war. I call dibs on ending his life.”
There’s a hidden promise in that last comment, one that splits me open to the bone, flaying my heart in two.
