Page 34 of Fate of the Sun King

“That is too long,” Cornelius counters. “You’re just delaying again.”

“We need time to make arrangements. We wouldn’t want a ceremony that is anything less than the height of extravagance for our precious jewel of a queen, would we?”

Cornelius narrows his eyes, clearly trying to decide if Atlas has just insulted his shrew of a daughter. I’m pretty sure Atlas did, but I place no blame on him for that one.

Nevertheless, General Cornelius Heulfryn is a better man than I am because he simply dips his chin, his hands again clasping behind his back. “Excellent, Your Majesty. Shall I alert the royal notetakers so they can let everyone know?”

“That would be so helpful,” Atlas says, the words barely containing their condescension. If Cornelius notices it, he pretends otherwise before bowing succinctly at Atlas and then at me.

“Excellent. It will be a wonderful event.”

He says nothing else, his gaze flicking in my direction before he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, Atlas strides over to the bar in the corner and pours himself a generous glass of whisky. He tosses half of it back and runs his hands through his hair, tugging on it in frustration.

“Atlas,” I say, wishing I understood anything.

Atlas whirls on me, his eyes bright with fury. “Gabriel, whose side are you on?”

I blink. “Sorry?”

He strides over with the glass in his hand and points it at me. “Your loyalty feels questionable lately. I sense something isn’t right with you.”

I shake my head. “I am always loyal to you, Atlas. You know that.”

“But are you?”

“What is this about?”

Atlas snorts and takes another drink as if the answer should be obvious.

“You have two weeks to find her, Gabriel. Send out every spy you can get your hands on.”

“Atlas, I—”

“Two weeks,” he repeats. “If you don’t find her, then I might have to make some replacements within my warders.”

I bite the inside of my mouth, quelling the breathtaking desire to punch him in the face. After everything I’ve done for him, this is how he repays me? Losing warder status isn’t like losing a job—it’s the end of your entire existence. I am nothing without my king. Literally.

“Understood,” I reply, and then before I say something I can’t undo, I spin on my heel and leave the room.

I’m so angry right now that I can’t think straight. I’ve gone through hell for Atlas, and he speaks to me like I’m no more significant than a worm curling over the toe of his golden boot. I’ve spent my entire life protecting him, even when I wasn’t obligated to do so, and he’s never once shown an ounce of gratitude. I stalk through the palace as servants and courtiers leap out of my way. Gods, I need a drink and a good fuck. I need to punch something. Hard.

It’s too late to turn back when I realize I’ve walked right into the heart of the main hall, where dozens of people mill about.

“You there!” comes a sharp voice that drags me out of my internal spiral. “Come here!”

Apricia points at some poor young High Fae female, who shuffles forward with her eyes on her feet.

“Look at me,” Apricia demands, and the girl looks up. Her blonde hair is clipped around her pointed ears, and her slight frame is clothed in a simple tunic. Fuck. The future Sun Queen fired half her attendants for being “a little too pretty” and is now on the hunt for a new set of victims. Why anyone would volunteer for this role is beyond me.

Before I’m dragged into another mess that is none of my business, I step back, slowly and cautiously, wary of making any sudden movements, lest I be noticed.

But my effort is wasted.

Both Apricia and the woman look over as Apricia’s face darkens with a frown. From the pinch of her features, I can only surmise that no one has told her about the bonding yet. I debate being the one to do so but decide to let her stew in her irritation for a bit longer. I have so little to entertain me. Someone else can be the bearer of good news.

The woman she’s speaking with is staring at me openly, her eyes dragging over my wings and down my frame. I frown at her, noting something familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.