Page 36

Again, spiders skittered across Areanel’s skin as King Aerileas reprimanded her, but there was a reluctance to his tone.

The king knew just as well as she that Titus was neither a traitor nor a spy—as did the other council members. They remained gathered in the throne room, scared out of their wits and shaking in both fear and anger—because it was they who had ordered Areanel to kill the former King of Selcirith.

She challenged them now. Her piercing blue eyes blazed as they swept over the room, landing on each trembling council member. She dared them to speak.

But they couldn’t. If they did, they risked the fragile trust threaded between Selcirith and Andrea. They risked forfeiting everything they gained with this new treaty between the Kingdoms of Idyssa.

Areanel let her wily blue eyes land on her father again, a hand curling into a fist on the arm of his throne, and waited for him to speak.

He was impressed by her scheming; that much was clear. However, that awe soon turned into fury at her boldness. The look he gave her had her forcing a swallow, and her hands shook slightly.

A cool, phantom breeze stroked the inside of her wrist, and Areanel glanced to her side, expecting Rymedur to have taken a step forward, but to her surprise, he hadn’t moved. One arm was by his side, hand balled into a fist. The other came to rest on the small of her back, and a reassuring warmth enveloped her as his fingers pressed into the marred skin beneath her dress.

Finally letting her gaze drop to her hand, Areanel spied a shadow, small and as dark as ink. It moved back and forth in a subtle but comforting movement. Bright surprise flashed through her, and she could not help the gratitude that bloomed in her chest.

With newfound confidence, Areanel turned to face her father. With her head held high, she squared her shoulders and glared at the king. Defiant. Righteous. Merciless. Everything he’d created her to be, and so much more.

Fabric swished as Areanel’s leg stretched, slipping out of the slit in her navy skirts. She used the point of her heeled shoe to kick Titus’s head.

It rolled towards her father’s throne and stopped at the foot of the last step. The small thud echoed in the quiet hall.

‘I did not, Ada.’ The slight—how she referred to him as Father—did not go unnoticed.

His jaw clenched for the third time. He was trying to hold back his fury—to abate his wrath before his people.

Areanel did not share this concern. She no longer cared what the people thought of her. She was the monster her father made; let them see her as such.

Using the dead General’s ruffled pants to wipe the blood still lingering on Rymedur’s scythe, Areanel shrugged at her father and waited for his inevitable wrath.

But it did not come.

Instead, the king leaned back in his throne—regal and royal—and neatly he ran a hand over his opulent, flowing silver robe. The very picture of calm. An imposing figure with the God of Life carved into stone, standing tall at his back, and the overly large crown placed on his head.

‘I need a new General.’ He raised an expectant brow. ‘Who will command my armies?’ He lazily waved a bejewelled hand over the people who stood silent. Waiting.

Areanel wondered which was ambitious enough to jump at the opportunity.

What she didn’t expect was for Percival to step forward.

His words shocked her further.

‘Sister will.’ Percival’s sudden voice had all heads turning his way—Areanel included. What was he doing? This was not the plan.

‘She is the highest-ranking officer here and already commands your Envoy,’ Percival continued, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. Areanel was worried he was using his silver-tongue abilities, but when her eyes met his, she found they reflected hers—a mirror of the brilliant cobalt, trust and truth radiating. ‘It only makes sense that Areanel command your armies as well, Father.’

Rapidly, Areanel’s eyes flickered between her father and brothers. Elmrynn scowled, Nymlaris looked bored—like he couldn’t wait to escape the stuffy throne room—and Sevain, sweet Sevain… the proud smile that took over his expression was broad and full of teeth.

Their father, however, appeared to be the exact opposite. His brow pinched, hand resting against his chin, tapping a ring finger against his bottom lip.

Much like she did, she could see the gears working in her father’s mind as he calculated all the possibilities.

She had thought about what would happen after she killed Titus—only, she had been sure her father would give Elmrynn the title of General. He was now the eldest, after all.

What about her father? Had he known? Suspected what Titus had been doing all this time? And if so, then why hadn’t he stopped him? His own son had suffered at the hands of that monster, and he had done nothing!

No. The king may be cruel, ruthless and merciless, but he was their father. He would have stopped it had he known.

Areanel’s piercing gaze was drawn to Percival’s expression. She begged him to look at her. What was he thinking?