Page 61 of How to Claim A Shadow King

Rage starts to bubble in my veins.

Future family, I think to myself.

Dark eyes sweep over my practical pants and tunic. Valen’s face flashes to the death skull, complete with a skeletal grin. "Look at that, Cern. She commands the room. I told you Mal was a hopeless romantic beneath all those shadows."

"An absolute conquest." Cern snorts, reaching across the table with a massive, tree trunk arm to grab an entire loaf of crusty bread. His left antler knocks a glass pitcher of orange juice clean off the table. It shatters on the floor, but the house automatically mends the glass and absorbs the liquid before it can puddle.

Cern doesn't even blink, just raises a tankard of what looks suspiciously like ale. "Morning, Duchess. Take a seat. Feast with us."

Future family. I grit my teeth.

Malakai steps into the room behind me, his posture stiff. Dark magic radiates off his broad shoulders. He pulls out a chair for me, his gaze darting between my eyes as if trying to read my thoughts.

Or as if he’s waiting for me to run screaming from the room.

If these two buffoons are trying to scare me, they’ll find I’m made of sterner stuff.

A grin stretches across my face, and it’s not nice.

Not nice at all.

I take a deep breath, smooth the front of my pants, and sit down. My best, most practiced diplomatic smile replaces the evil smirk I let myself have for a moment.

"Good morning," I say, my voice smooth and perfectly modulated. "It’s a pleasure to properly meet you both. I am Aveline, Duchess of Stormspire."

"We are well aware," Valen says, talking with his mouth completely full of ham. His cheekbone flickers to exposed skull, showing the chewed food inside his jaw before snapping back to handsome skin.

“That’s a neat trick,” I tell him blandly, as uncaring as I can manage. “How does it not fall out?”

Valen blinks at me in surprise, the skull vanishing entirely.

"We’re just surprised you’re still here. The last witch Malakai had to bond with—what was her name, Cern? The one from the eastern coven? The one with those wild, untamed eyes?"

"Oh, the dark-haired enchantress!" Cern laughs, a loud, booming sound that rumbles the plates. He scratches the base of his antlers with a greasy fork. “How many years ago was that? Five hundred? More?”

I frown, disgusted by his uncouth manners.

"By the gods, she was utterly mad.” He points with the same fork at Valen. “Remember when she tried to hex Mal's shadows? But, whew," he lets out a low whistle, "she did have a magnificent wild streak."

My diplomatic smile falters. The fork in my hand stays perfectly still, but my fingers tighten around the silver.

A teapot floats over to my setting, hot water flowing into my cup as the castle tries to make me feel better.

I don’t like to think about… the other versions of me.

I swallow hard and stab at a piece of innocent egg.

"No, the one before her was far more taxing," Valen chimes in, leaning forward and resting his greasy elbows right on the table. "The delicate thing with the red hair. A mouse. Wept the first time Cern brought a fresh kill into the hall. Truly, it was merely dinner—there was no need for hysterics."

"To be fair, the witches of the last few eons have lacked true spirit," Cern says, shaking his head as he slaps a mountain of butter onto his bread. "They are all either desperate for a crown or entirely useless in a clash of blades. Just a collection of silly humans dallying with wild magic they cannot hope to comprehend."

“Dallying?” I ask sweetly. “Dallying?!” I take a sip of the hot tea. Delicious.

Malakai opens his mouth, his eyes flashing with murder.

I place my hand flat on his forearm, and he glances down at me.

I don’t know what he sees, but I know one thing.