Page 158 of Revealing Fate

“What do you think will happen?” Even contemplating the possibilities made a fresh swell of sick burn up her throat.

Santhe stared out into the encroaching shadows.

Kal had been gone for hours, and every minute of his absence had been torture.

“Kal has been plotting his revenge for years,” Santhe answered. She cast a sidelong glance at Felíne. Her expression was hard, though her brows creased with an attempt at compassion. “He told you what Domitan took from him?”

Felíne swallowed. Nodded. “He killed Kal’s parents,” she whispered.

“Kal had an idyllic childhood,” Santhe replied. “He was raised in a beautiful seaside castle, surrounded by loyal friends and loving family. He wasn’t spoiled. He was trained as a warrior, cultured, and tutored. His parents had every expectation that he would grow up to inherit their titles, step into the role of benevolent ruler, and become a protector of his people, just as his ancestors had been for generations. The Lord and Lady of Brightsea expected to be there to guide their son’s succession.”

Felíne could picture it. She knew what it was like to grow up surrounded by opulence, though she imagined Kal’s upbringing lacked the crushing weight of a goddess’s prophecy.

“King Domitan and Queen Serebine ripped Kalevar’s future away from him,” Santhe continued, voice going cold. “His parents were invited to Asteros as guests and then slaughtered for failing to adopt foreign customs.”

Felíne couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed at her, irrational though it may be. That wasn’t the only reason they’d been killed.

“He was just a boy, Felíne,” Santhe said quietly, compassion coloring her features. “He was left in an alley, scared and forced to face an unimaginable future. Cinah and I found him. We became his family. We hid him from the crown. And Kal? He didn’t cower. He never once surrendered to grief or fear or circumstance. What he went through would have broken most people. But his tragedy forged him into the man he is today. He will stop at nothing to avenge his parents, to protect his new family.”

Felíne didn’t know how to feel. She’d never been so conflicted in her life. It was like being ripped in two. “Did Kal establish the Cozened?”

“No,” Santhe answered. “Their rebellion existed long before Kal’s involvement. He found common cause with them. When he left Asteros, he began building a network of allies with the sole intent of overthrowing the Asterosian monarchy. Restoring order to Ilistaar. Everything he has done since his family was murdered has been in pursuit of that goal.” Santhe studied Felíne, the sharp angles of her face stern. “He cares for you a great deal. And you must understand, Kal chooses his people very carefully. He is not a man prone to passing fancies.”

Felíne felt a new emotion settle into her spirit. Pride.

“But he will not allow his affection for you to alter his trajectory.”

“I don’t expect him to,” Felíne admitted. “I never wanted this. I’ve lived in the shadow of the Goddess’s prophecy my entire life. But to learn that my parents murdered an innocent boy’s family? For power? For political control?” Felíne fought back the surge of disgust. “To learn what they’ve been doing to the Fates? In my name?” People were expendable to the monarchs of Asteros. Their subjects weren’t seen as shurii worth protecting, worth leading. They were seen as objects to be used for personal gain. It was abhorrent. It was wrong. It went against everything she’d been led to believe, everything she thought they stood for.

“So, you’re fine with Kal’s course of action?”

Felíne’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Of course, I’m not fine with it. They’re my parents, Santhe. I want them held accountable, not killed.”

Santhe stiffened, and Felíne sensed that the slight woman was disappointed by her response. “If you knew even half of what they’ve done, then you might feel differently. If you knew what your sire continues to do…” Santhe trailed off, visibly shaken by the sudden flood of anger. It took her a moment to collect herself. “You’d understand that death is a mercy they don’t deserve.”

Felíne sipped the chamomile tea, now cool in her hands. She didn’t know how to respond, and so she said nothing. The women sat on the shared step, private thoughts creating an unspoken barrier between them.

Adder stepped into view from the side of the house. His attention was fixed down the drive where Felíne spied a lone rider approaching. She shot to her feet, cold tea forgotten.

Kal pulled Sig’s reins to a halt when he reached them and slipped out of the saddle. She’d expected blood splattered armor, sweat, and grime from battle, but Kal looked just as he had when he’d left earlier that day, if a little more worn. Felíne tried to read his face, her elation at seeing him alive and visibly unharmed subsiding as she considered the alternative.

“Is the bastard dead then?”

Santhe’s blunt question jarred Felíne. Kal cut severe black eyes toward his female friend in warning. Santhe’s hands found her narrow hips.

“Domitan lives,” Kal replied.

Felíne let out a breath of relief, while Santhe’s exhale spoke of her frustration. Adder remained impassive as he waited for Kal to continue.

“He knows Felíne is here.”

Hearing her suspicion confirmed wasn’t a reassurance. Quite the contrary. It reinforced her dread.

“How?” Santhe demanded. “No one knew. You weren’t followed out of Asteros. The hunter that escaped, if she even made it back to the capital alive, didn’t know where you were headed.”

“Cinah,” Kal said, face impossibly grave.

Adder stepped forward. “You’re sure?”