Page 93 of Black Sea

“Keep your voice down, daughter,” he said sternly, “for I do not wish to cause any more trouble for your mother today.” His eyes turned to the large, pointed windows with wrought-iron floral decorations on the first floor, where he had left his mate.

I also didn’t want to cause her more pain, especially after watching her cry while I’d told my story. So, I tried to channel the urge to yell at my father, but I refused to hide the anger bubbling in my gut.

“You made him believe you had arranged accommodations for him,” I hissed. “You made me believe it. Instead, you threw him in prison.”

He didn’t bat an eye. “Yes.”

“He is the King of Men!” I said in indignation.

“A king,” Father snapped sharply, “who did not hesitate to attack us after I refused to let him use Calien’s Crystal.”

“He just wants to heal the infected lands of his kingdom,” I retorted vehemently.

“Yes,” my brother said, in a nipping tone. “And he was willing to shed the blood of Aegel’s citizens just to reach the Crystal.”

“I’m well aware, Araton,” I growled.

He made a nearly nauseated face. “Then how can you defend him?”

“I’m not defending his actions or decisions,” I clarified, then turned my furious gaze to our father. “But I demand that he be treated with respect.”

“You demand?” The king, simultaneously angered and stunned, advanced threateningly toward me. “And who are you to make demands?”

Fire flashed in my eyes. “I’m his—”

I suddenly clammed up, shocked.

It was pointless, as Father immediately guessed what I was about to say, and rage contorted his stern face.

I took a moment to steady myself, then, with resoluteness, I said, “I am your heir. And he’s half elf.” I glared at Araton. “Whether you like it or not.” I looked back at the king. “He’s one of us.”

“No, he’s not,” Araton bit back.

“Yes, he is.” I glowered at him before turning away to step closer to our father with a determined look. “Prove it to him.”

He responded with a single, startled breath, gazing at me as if I had asked him to commit an atrocity.

“He’s hated you all his life because of what you have done to his mother. He hates all elves.” My voice faltered slightly at the thought that, despite everything, Amlach might hate me as well. I swallowed hard and pressed on with greater urgency. “Prove to him that the decision you made was a terrible mistake. Show him the kindness of our race. Show him who we truly are.” I paused meaningfully, staring at him intently. “Don’t let resentment overpower you again, Father.”

He stayed absolutely silent, weighing my words with a haughtiness that made me feel uneasy.

My brother burst into a contemptuous half-laughter. “You’re unbelievable, Nauriel . . . Are you really asking our father to let that scoundrel go with a pat on the back? And all because you’ve grown fond of the half-blood?”

“ Shut up, Araton,” I hissed fiercely.

“Because you consider him . . . what?” he continued with increasing disdain. “Some kind of friend?”

“He’s far more than that!” I shouted before I could stop myself.

“How dare you say such a thing!” my brother yelled back, bewildered.

I decided to ignore his presence once more and refocused on the king, more determined than ever. “Father. Get Amlach out of that cell. Meet him and talk.”

“They have talked already!” Araton snapped. “Did that bastard take your memory, as well as your reason?”

“He took nothing,” I snarled.

“He clearly did,” Father said with solemn seriousness.