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‘No, Ada,’ she poured as much unwavering courage as she could muster into her voice. ‘You only send us—your Envoy—when things take a turn for the worse. We are the scalpel, the message of your vengeance, not diplomats. Sending me or any of my envoys would be a mistake.’ She ignored the way Aerileas’s jaw ticked or the way he’d mentioned Rymedur. ‘Selcirith will see it as a threat, or an act of aggression. That is the last thing we need when negotiating terms for a new treaty.’

‘Then what would you suggest?’ His question wasn’t to diminish or degrade her, and his tone suggested genuine curiosity. Did he think she would falter? ‘The rebels will no doubt attack anyone and take this opportunity to see the treaty fall through.’

‘What if we dealt with both problems at once?’ Areanel held her hands behind her back as she stood to attention. Her father would not always hear her thoughts, but perhaps he was in a better mood than she’d first thought. Areanel kept her hopes in a tight grip; she still needed to find a way to ensure she got what she wanted—the Chieftain of Vennedove in her clutches. ‘Say we didn’t send a dignitary to Selcirith—or anyone, for that matter.’

‘You would keep Selcirith out of these negotiations?’ He glared down at her, eyes turning to slits remarkably like the statue of the beast’s by Edre’s feet.

‘We could suggest a meeting place of neutrality,’ she continued, ‘and assemble the dignitaries of all kingdoms there. It will be well guarded; I will have the Envoy stationed there. It will force all powers of state to send their negotiators, and negotiations can be dealt with at once instead of going back and forth with messengers, which will take weeks.’

Aerileas shifted, leaning towards her with rapt fascination as she explained. ‘It would stop the rebellion from getting their hands on any messengers or missives passed between kingdoms.’

‘Exactly.’ Areanel felt a flash of something warm blooming in her chest at the impressed look her father sent her way. ‘If any messengers were caught by rebels, it would be damaging for the renewal of the treaty and all kingdoms involved. But if the kingdoms met in one place, together, and discussed the renewed terms… everything could be handled in a matter of days, without the threat of rebels.’ She didn’t bother to mention that she hoped the rebels would be lured in by the idea so that she could eradicate them all at once instead of picking them off one by one.

‘Not quite.’ That proud, golden light seemed to flicker out as he studied her. Had she said something wrong? ‘Dignitaries from all kingdoms would draw the attention of the rebels. Especially if word got out about this—’ he waved a hand ‘—neutral place you spoke of. Those damned rebel rats will not be able to give up the opportunity to strike. It’s reckless.’

Maybe he did need to know? She knew he would never agree if there was a chance it would bite him in the ass. So, she conceded. ‘No. Because it will be a trap.’

‘You will use the negotiations as bait, drawing the rebels into a trap—thus dealing with two problems at once?’ It sounded more like a question than a statement, but Areanel was glad that he understood. ‘Impressive. Well done, Selyë.’

Hope reignited in her chest as that golden flicker burned into a flame. Suddenly, her pet name didn’t prickle along her spine. Instead, it felt uplifting. There he was. This was the version of her father that she had wanted to see—the one that was proud of her, the one that cared about and loved her. No sign of the cold, callous and calculating king.

‘And Vennedove?’

High on the feeling of her father’s pride, Areanel stood a little straighter. She hated herself for falling for her father’s manipulations, for that’s exactly what this was. He would degrade her one moment and praise her the next, but she could not help the innate need to satisfy his expectations. Was it the same for all children? No matter how much he abused her, she still loved him. Maybe she was a fool, but in that moment, she felt worthy to be called his daughter—his selyë.

‘What do you suggest?’ Areanel asked.

The silver crown atop his head suddenly caught the light, and bright rays caused the mix of green and blue gems entwined to bleed colour onto the pristine white stone in the room.

‘Do as you say.’ Aerileas tilted his head to the side. ‘Bring the citizens of Vennedove here, but keep them in tents by the old ruins along the outskirts and station guards. I do not trust them and refuse to allow them any closer to the city. I will not tolerate rebel sympathisers. Make that clear to them, and do not disappoint me.’

‘Of course, Ada.’

‘Good,’ Aerileas nodded to her. ‘Then you are dismissed.’

Thump! Thump!

Aerileas used his staff, Feneril, to strike the ground at his feet—the telltale sign of dismissal.

Chapter 18

Areanel

Twisting and turning through the winding corridors, Areanel’s pace quickened. Already having sent a palace aide to inform her brothers of their departure, she needed to quickly gather her things if she was to meet them at the front gates so that they could leave for Vennedove.

Rounding the final corner that would lead to her rooms, she heard the unmistakable sound of singing and followed a baritone voice. Slowly, she reached for the metal handle, and, inching the door open, Areanel peeked inside, smiling at the sight which greeted her.

There, in the lounge separating the children’s bedrooms, Rymedur sang to their children as his fingers flew with delicate, practised precision over the piano she had procured for him as a wedding gift.

Marvelling at the sight, Areanel could not help the wide smile stretching across her face. If a seer had told her when she was younger that she would marry a wonderful man and bear eight of his children, she would have laughed in their face.

It was hard for elves to conceive, but this had never bothered her. Areanel had never thought herself fit to be a mother, and the thought of having children hadn’t crossed her mind. She didn’t know how to be maternal. Hadn’t learned from her mother, as she hadn’t been, either. So, when she first found out she was pregnant—a surprise which had come after only a year of being married to Rymedur—the news had scared her. How could she be a good mother?

Rymedur had been her saving grace. He had held her hand through labour, stayed by her side as they learnt the complexities of having a child—or in their case, children, because of course her firstborns were twins. He’d helped find joy in the small moments, and over two decades, Areanel had grown into it, even though motherhood still sometimes scared her.

Their children were born in quick succession after that—something Areanel believed to be because of Rymedur’s human heritage. She loved her children, but the pregnancies had been difficult, changing not only Areanel’s body but her mind, too. Fear became a new constant. The world seemed full of threats—some she was able to eradicate, others she wasn’t. It terrified her, because what if she wasn’t enough?

What if, with all that fear weighing her down, she became as paranoid as her father? Would she eventually be just like him—happy one moment, angry the next? She hated the idea of becoming like her own parents, even if she did love them, despite it all. Areanel did not want her own children to experience conditional love.