“And if I don’t?”
From the spark in his eyes, I was dangerously close to the edge of his patience. “Then I suppose I’ll have to adjust myself to the thought of a shorter funeral pyre.”
“You dare jest?” His roar fractured the silence, reverberating off the walls.
I might have pushed him too far this time.
“You’re lazy and spoiled,” he grated. “The only one of my sons in whom I can find nothing to be proud.”
I flinched. “Maybe that’s my accomplishment.”
His sword came free from its sheath with a ringing clang. My sword.
The guards must have handed it to him. He studied the blade, a family heirloom said to have been forged by fae and carried by the first Ederyn king.
“You don’t deserve this gift of the gods. Or my name. You’re utterly useless.”
“The gods died a long time ago.”
His nostrils flared. My blasphemy infuriated him, and some twisted part of me enjoyed it.
“You’ve relied on my protection for too long. Every realm I’ve sent you to, you’ve been more trouble than you were worth.” He gestured sharply. “The scribes at Doba wanted me to ban you altogether.”
“Because I suggested commoners be educated? Literacy is a right, not a privilege.”
“And the swordsmiths in Volker?”
“Their prices are impossible for most Liriens. Our people deserve weapons to defend themselves.”
“The soldiers of Pendara protect them. We do not need an armed populace.” His voice rose. “There is peace in Lirien.”
I scoffed. “The Viori raids leave the borderlands in ruin. The Unbound poison minds against the Bloodbinding. The children of the Bound realms gather in secret, more than ever?—”
“Enough.” His whisper was more chilling than a shout. “Kneel.”
“Why?”
Father sheathed the sword and drew a dagger, its hilt glittering with rubies and emeralds. “You’ve squandered your powers for too long. It’s time you learned discipline … and fealty.”
As though containing my powers was so easy. I had tried. And I’d failed, despite my efforts. Maybe not my best efforts, but what choice did I have? “There isn’t a Sealed Master who would truly train me, even on your orders.”
He ignored me. “The tavern keeper’s son and the shop owners demand justice. You went too far. I can’t save you this time.”
Fear slithered through my chest.
He was going to execute me.
I swallowed hard. “And if I demand a trial?”
“There will be no trial. I sentence you to exile for two years to satisfy those who want your blood. But you will not waste this time away from Ederyn, my son. You’re going to Pendara. This time, no Sealed Master will refuse you.”
I straightened, towering several inches taller than him. What in Nyxva?
“Kneel, Calix. You will yield. You will be Sealed as a Pendaran. You must learn fealty to my crown and understand your duty, and why our ways are best, before your rebellious thoughts and ideas of justice take you down a path that excludes you from my protection. Your role requires your head to command your heart, not the other way around.”
Sealed? Only Bound children were Sealed. Every ten years, each realm selected three of its most promising. To be chosen was the highest honor in Lirien. The Sealed were masters of their realm’s craft. I was a full eleven years older. Twenty-six—and fully aware of the consequences of the Bloodbinding rites and the Sealing.
I retreated a step. “And if I refuse?”
