I blinked, a sudden weight lifting from my shoulders. I had assumed it had fallen with the ships and was lost.
“And what of the witch and Vincent?” I asked, trying to keep the disdain from my voice.
All the councilors looked at me and shook their heads one by one. “We found no record of them being on board, and there was no sign of their remains in Goldpass,” Leviathan answered.
I waved my hand, and a few councilors jumped, thinking I was about to take Leviathan’s head. “Fine. I care not. Our focus is the medallion and testing it.”
Somebody cleared their throat, and what was left of The Order glanced nervously at each other before looking at me.
“What?” I demanded, annoyed by their timidity. They were my council. What good were they to me if they wouldn’t speak?
“With all due respect to you, your exceptional rule, and the gracious gifts you bestowed on us and your city, we must speak honestly with you.”
My head tilted as I stared at Rolluse, and he paused, seemingly unable to continue. I was disgusted to see the sweat now dripping from his bald head. So weak, they were all so weak. Tora, blind as a fucking bat, took over.
“We merely wish to bring the concern to you.”
“Spill it already,” I growled. “Before I decide to spill your organs onto my freshly cleaned floor.”
“If I may speak freely,” Tora said. “The rulers under your command have heard about what happened to your armada. They send messages inquiring whether they should secure their borders. If The Eye learns of what Ayla has done, or can do, and joins her, you will have defectors. If that happens, the war may be over long before it has begun.”
My jaw clenched. I’d give it to Tora. She sat with her back straight, empty eyes staring forward, without the scent of fear coating her skin.
I unclenched my hands and rested one on the table. Everyone tensed in fear and anticipation, but I did not lash out because they spoke the same truth that the fates I held prisoner below my palace wailed about.
For every win I gained, I suffered a loss at the hands of this wretched bitch.
As long as Ayla lived, my reign would not.
NIGHT HAD FALLEN, meetings and battle plans done. Now, I stood in front of the statue in the center of my west wing. Draining the wine from my glass, I barely noticed the flavor on my tongue. I crossed my arms, my nails tapping against the goblet as I started to pace in front of the stone carving of Nydmjir.
“You’re an idiot, too,” I said, throwing the wineglass at his stone face and watching with satisfaction as it shattered. “You thought I wanted to be with you.” My lip curled in disgust. There, below my palace, I could be my true self and release all that hate and rage. “They looked to you like they did Unir. They gave you all that power and respect without you having to lift a finger, and all because of that damn thing that hung between your legs. You had power and settled for a fucking treaty. It’s okay. I’ll finish what you were too cowardly to achieve.”
Nydmjir had been a coward, wanting what Unir offered. He’d convinced the remaining Primordials and gods to work together, even though he could have challenged the stars with the medallion. Pathetic. So it had made the most sense to get rid of him and claim it as my own. He never saw the godly knife I’d plunged into his heart after I’d tricked him into bed with me.
It had been a simple thing to frame another for his death, making war a reality again. The only flaw in my plan was thinking Unir would not destroy the medallion before I could claim it. I should have taken it before slaying Nydmjir, but I’d been young and foolish. Not now and never again. I would have my reign. Gods above and below, be damned.
My pacing increased, the long ends of my hair whipping across my lower back in a fury. “I have power, too. I secured the realms under my name, but no, all they can talk about isAyla.”
I threw my goblet, glass shattering as it hit the statue. Red wine stained his stone face, dripping off his chin.
“This is my destiny,” I yelled. “My rule.”
I ripped my hand through my hair, the ends of the long strands swaying across my bare lower back. “She has no council, no crown, no home. Why does she continue to be a threat?”
I stopped and stared at the statue before covering my face with my hands. She now threatened everything I had killed for, stolen, and dismantled. I did not work this hard to get here, only to lose it all. I refused.
Energy crackled in the air, and it wasn’t my own. Thick hands slid around my waist, his fingers connecting at my lower abdomen. A chest made of corded muscle and raw power pressed against my back. His face dipped to my neck, and I tipped my head as he pressed a kiss to the curve of my shoulder and another near my ear.
“Apologies for being late,” Blayne said. He was the third strongest of the gods after Athos and Kryella, my advisor, confidant, and lover. “Do you weep at my absence?”
“Always.” I turned my head toward him in answer. Half-lie, half-truth was always how I played this game, and Blayne was no different.
“What a beautiful liar you are. What plagues you?” he asked, lifting his lips from my skin to look at me.
“My armada is in ruins.”
I felt his back go rigid, his fingers bunching in my nightgown. “How?”
