The corners of his mouth lifted as he took a step toward her. “Well, you’ve seen better days.”
Esmyra’s nostrils flared, her body tensing as she lunged forward, but the guards violently jerked her back, wrenching her shoulders. She snarled behind the cloth tied around her mouth, glaring up at him like she’d spit fire if she could.
He leaned in closer, just enough that his voice reached her ears. “You’re going to answer for what you’ve done,” he whispered. “To my father. To my wife and kingdom. And to Draevyn.”
She growled at him like she was a godsdamn animal.
He stepped closer, towering over her. “Those pesky little claws of yours refuse to let him go.”
She stilled for just a heartbeat at the mention of his brother. A flicker of something unreadable behind her eyes. Guilt, perhaps?
Atlas refused to care. In fact, he didn’t even think the monster was capable of feeling anything at all.
He straightened, motioning to the soldiers. “Take her ashore.”
They wrenched her upright, the chains at her ankles clinkingtogether. Mist curled along the dock, and the gangplank dropped with a heavythud.
A crowd had already gathered. Elvens in fine robes and gleaming armor stood at the ready, eyes sharp and guarded as murmurs rippled through them at the sight of Lephyrin’s ships.
The guards began marching her forward, and Atlas watched as she stumbled. He couldn’t help but notice that though her feet were bare and bloodied, she still held her chin high.
Atlas hated that he respected her for it. Even though he wanted her to cower,wantedher to fear just as she had made so many others, the siren didn’t back down. She was braver than most of the men back on his ship, that was for damn sure. Just another irritating thing about her.
While Esmyra was dragged across the dock and through the growing masses, she stared each of them down as if she was counting down the seconds until she could drown every last one of them.
The throne room was carved from moonstone and white granite, aglow with a pale, shimmering light. Violet and gold banners hung from all sides of the room, depicting the crest of House Everhartt, the ruling family of Sumnae. It was eerily quiet, save for the rustle of robes and the low creak of armor as guards and royals lined the walls.
At the far end of the hall, atop a dais flanked by cascading silks, the elven king sat with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. All the creatures of Rymelle held similar features outside of their magic, but the elvens were set apart by their pointed ears and ethereal beauty—even the males. The king’s golden eyes were ancient and cold, glowing faintly like starlight through ice.
Elowynne’s eyes, Atlas thought.
This was how he was meeting his father-in-law? Not once had Atlas felt even a hint of fear on his journey here. All he had known was theneed to take back what was his by any means necessary. But to face his queen’s father? To stand before him at the edge of the dais and tell the foreign king that helostSumnae’s princess when he swore to protect her?
Atlas’s stare met King Keryth Everhartt’s, and it took every ounce of his self-control to not take a step back. Power clung to the male, and though it was subtle, it became suffocating.
“We received word that you would be arriving sometime soon. Though, it very much displeases me to see my daughter is not in attendance with you.”
Atlas took a hesitant step forward. “I stand before you now, no longer as a prince of Lephyrin, but as its crowned king. And I come bearing the news that my kingdom came under attack by forces that seemed to have abandoned our world long ago.”
The guards glanced at one another, the sound of their shifting armor floating through the room.
“Maerinys has risen from the depths, and with it, the lost sea goddesses,” Atlas admitted. “And from this, our beloved Elowynne was taken from me. She was kidnapped in the dead of night after my official coronation and has yet to be returned.”
Gasps erupted from every corner of the throne room. The royal family, several servants, and the guards all began arguing about how this could be true, some not even bothering to whisper as they called him a liar.
Keryth stood from his throne, the wrath of a king radiating from him. “I will have silence!” he bellowed, and the room fell back into an eerie hush. He turned his attention back to Atlas. “And how would you know Maerinys has risen? No one with half a brain would sail in Rymelle’s southern waters. Nothing has been out there for centuries aside from storming seas and death. The entire civilization perished in the collapse.”
“Only it didn’t,” Atlas barked.
The elven king clearly wasn’t used to others challenging him.
“Why should I believe you? How do I know you didn’t rid yourself of my daughter and come here with a story so I’d spare your head?” He descended the dais, his steps deliberately slow, as if he wastrying to put fear into Atlas. “Your father wasn’t a trusted man, so why should we consider you to be one?”
Heat flared in his chest, and shadows formed around his wrists. The elven soldiers unsheathed their swords in unison, and Atlas’s guards mimicked the movement.
“Now, now, Atlas, I don’t think you really want to be doingthatnow, do you? Are you trying to start a bloodbath right here in my throne room?” Keryth gestured toward his hands, where dark tendrils continued to curl and dance. “Or do you forget what us elvens are capable of?”
A new sensation coiled in the air, like a shift in the pressure of the room. A cold, delicate thread of magic brushed against Atlas’s mind. It was soft, but sharp, like the sting of a blade drawn lightly across the skin. It wasn’t violent, but it felt invasive and probing.
