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Areanel held her breath, bracing for the strike. But it never came.

Instead, the gentle brush of fingertips against her cheek had her blinking in shock. Aerileas tucked the stray hairs that had stuck to her sweaty temple behind her pointed ears, careful not to touch the points. The king used his thumb to raise Areanel’s head so that their eyes met.

Bright cobalt stared into their mirrors. ‘My sweet girl.’ What? Sweet girl. Had her father hit his head? ‘I knew you would not disappoint me with this.’

Areanel could not help the way her eyes widened. Did he just praise her? A warmth expanded in her chest, slowly easing the tension from her stiff muscles. The soft strokes of his thumbs against her cheeks were a complete deviation from his usual erratic behaviour. Areanel could count on one hand the number of times she had seen him like this. Soft. Caring.

A father.

‘You hate me.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘You must know, everything I do, I do for the good of our kingdom. I do it for you. My little selyë.’ His voice was kind. Tender. It reminded her of the way Rymedur spoke to their children. Full of unconditional love. ‘They may think we are monsters, my sweet girl, but sometimes what this world needs is a monster. One to ensure anarchy and chaos don’t unleash upon the innocents. You have witnessed it yourself, my dear girl! The way this rebellion was willing to kill those villagers just so that they wouldn’t be under Andrean protection.’

The rebels had fired aimlessly into the crowd. Areanel had seen it. They’d been willing to kill anyone in hopes of attacking her and her brothers in the process.

Aerileas pulled her face closer until her forehead touched his. ‘I don’t like punishing you, Selyë,’ he urged. ‘Why must you make me?’ Had she? Was she really at fault for what he had ordered his Soldazt to do? Guilt tore at her insides. ‘I have told you, time and time again, your actions have consequences, and when you disappoint me, you must be punished. I don’t enjoy your pain, my girl. But it is a necessary evil. One I must endure.’

Areanel’s heart stuttered. A necessary evil. Was it really her fault? She hadn’t meant to disappoint him. She never wanted that. But was it really a necessity, one that her father could not avoid? Confusion ate at the thoughts, muddying her brain. She could still feel the phantom hands of the Soldazt hitting her. The bruises and marks may have been erased from her body, but not from her mind.

No. This was not her fault. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Areanel had protected her brothers, as she always had. As she always would. She wasn’t the one who’d ordered the Soldazt to beat her black and blue.

She wasn’t at fault.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and a wedge the size of a rock made its way up her throat, but Areanel would not cry. Not in front of him. Pressing her nails into the palm of her hands, Areanel focused on the bite.

Aerileas inhaled deeply. Placing his cold lips upon her head, he gave her a chaste kiss. ‘You mustn’t do it again. Do not make me hurt you.’ The words felt like a brand as his lips moved against her head before he pulled back to look her in the eyes. ‘It breaks my heart, daughter.’

Areanel wondered how he could say those words with such conviction. Did he really believe them? He must have, or he was even better than the famous con artists who reside in Alabasus. Maybe in another life, that was where he would be, thriving as a mogul of the underworld.

Pulling back, Aerileas released his hold on her and turned back towards his desk, where he took a seat. Areanel marked the pile of papers that were haphazardly strewn across the large wooden desk. Subtly craning her neck, she tried to glean what they were, but as Aerileas laced his fingers together and signalled after the two Soldazt behind her, Areanel found her eyes snapping back to meet his. Afraid to get caught spying.

‘You understand now why I want the chieftain dead?’ Aerileas questioned.

‘He is a traitor.’ There was no hesitation in Areanel’s answer. The man was a traitor for helping the rebels, regardless of his reasons.

She had no doubt that her father’s spies had informed him of everything they knew about the chieftain—even where he was hiding.

‘Worse, my daughter.’ Aerileas’s gaze returned to that hard, cold look she was so used to, and Areanel was almost glad. At least this expression was an honest one, not one that would make her question… everything. ‘He is gluttonous. Greedy. These qualities have no place in this world. He betrayed himself when he fell to these sins. By accepting the rebellion scoundrels into his village, he allowed their disease to fester and spread. No wonder they burnt his village to the ground.’

‘You are saying he is at fault?’

‘I am saying his death is fast approaching.’ Her father sounded so sure. ‘Be it by us, the rebels or a third party. You said it yourself, he is well known for his increasing debts and rebel affiliation.’

‘But by killing him, Ada, will they not suspect us? It will give the rebellion further cause. Turning others against us. Especially if we were to execute him in another kingdom.’ Areanel tried to rationalise.

‘This is why I am sending your brothers to Cal Cathlar as emissaries. The location of the treaty has been moved to Alabasus, giving you and your cadre the opportunity to complete both tasks—you and Percival are to ensure the treaty is prioritised; the rest of the Envoy will rid us of the chieftain. Your brothers will go to the treaty signing in my stead to ensure the governing bodies and other dignitaries that I have no ill intentions towards them and to set the new negotiations for the treaty agreements. As a show of good faith, a handful of villagers have been chosen to go with our emissaries. Of course, we will still keep the others in the ruins until the new treaty has been signed.’ Aerileas spoke with the confidence only a king possessed.

‘I have also added a new clause to the treaty.’

Areanel tilted her head in curiosity. What could Aerileas possibly want to add? Everything had already been decided between him and his council.

‘Jessika is coming close to the age of marriage, is she not? Selcirith have some prospects that I think will be a good fit.’

No.

No. No. Not her little girl.

Jessika was young, only just reaching nineteen. Her father had never used her children. She had thought they were safe.

Fear struck her like a lightning bolt, sending electricity to rattle her bones. ‘She is still young,’ Areanel tried to reason with him, but it was a weak excuse. She knew it.