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Our last argument pricked fresh in my mind as I mulled over the words again and again. She’d forced me to wear the trailic, in some bid to win over the vampires here. I wondered if she regretted it. Now Hamza had used it as an excuse to take what wasn’t his.
“Honey, it’s okay,” she whispered under her breath as I moved to pull away from her arm around me. The hardness in her stare softened, made more frightening by the specks of red in her irises. “It’s just me,” she consoled, as if fear of touch was the reason I was trying to get away from her. It wasn’t.
“Where’s Sebastian?” I asked, glancing at the open door.
“I don’t know. He left after he found us and told us what happened.” Her voice broke at the end, and she turned her head. I didn’t intrude on her privacy. Neither of us could afford to be vulnerable right now.
A man walked in, whispered something in my father’s ear, then gulped. Confliction threaded through Sargon’s expression. He nodded at the man, then gestured for him to leave. The guard, wearing a uniform like Draven’s, rushed out, closing the door behind him. Once the door clicked shut, Sargon turned his back to us, looking out the window, clasping his hands behind him. “Hamza is dead.”
The words were hollow. My muscles tightened. “He was executed so fast,” I stated, my heart galloping as I stood.
His blazer strained as his shoulders tensed. The blue trim clashed with his locks matching mine, a dead giveaway to our royal descent. I almost wanted to hug my dad for the first time since I’d arrived. I did not know he’d ordered Hamza’s execution. From the back and forth, with guards and advisors traipsing in and out of the room, I’d assumed they were deliberating on what to do.
Sargon swept over to my mom in a flash, too fast for my mortal eyes. “Who did you order to kill him? Was it the boy guard? Answer me, Ravena,” he boomed, his voice carrying through the walls.
Swallowing thickly, I retreated a step, the hairs on the back of my arms standing erect. Her lips parted, but his hand was around her throat before she could answer. My voice was strangled along hers as shock stole my words away.
His grip tightened. “I kept you alive!” he shouted, his fingers curling into her windpipe.
I pressed my lips together until they hurt. He brought his nose to hers, the tips almost touching as he stood her up from the bed by her neck. I stepped forward instinctively, but she shot me a warning with her bloodshot eyes when I got too close. “You continue to disobey me after everything I have done for you.” His eye twitched. “After all I’ve done forher,” he spat. “This was too far. Even for you.”
She kicked her legs, the tips of her shoes scraping against the stone floor as he held her above the ground.
“Stop,” I snapped. “Let her talk,” I demanded, although my voice wavered with a tremor.
When he jerked his head in my direction, I saw where the stories of the dark king had descended from. There was something insatiable, deadly, in those eyes. No more did they remind me of my own. A muscle feathered in his jaw, the veins on his hands bulging as he threw my mom down on the bed.
He didn’t look away from me. “You do not command me.”
“You were killing her,” I argued. She caught her breath, sitting upright.
“She can’t die from that,” he boomed.
“Sargon.” My mom’s voice came out far calmer than I thought possible. “Move away from our daughter.”
He waved his hand, turning away from me. Pointing at me with a ringed finger, he shook his head at her. “Seraphina has nothing to fear from me. I would never hurt my own blood.”
She gritted her teeth, raising a perfectly arched, black eyebrow. “I did not order Hamza killed. I have been here with you this whole time.”
Sargon shook his head. “Then it was the boy guard.”
“Draven?” I asked. “No. He wouldn’t have.”
His voice rose, shaking as fury laced into his tone. “Then who?” he demanded. “Hamza was found without his head and his heart, along with two of my guards.”
The sun set lower in the sky, splintering in orange hues throughout the room. The heat touched my exposed collarbone and shoulders. I couldn’t think about who’d killed him. All that mattered was he was dead and couldn’t hurt anyone again. My heart sank a little knowing my father didn’t give the order. I guessed I should have expected as much. “Who cares?”
“What did you say?” he asked, as if he didn’t have perfect hearing.
“I said, ‘Who cares?’” I threw my hands in the air. “He was a sick fuck who deserved his fate. I’m only sad I wasn’t the one to do it.”
He paced again. “Do not misunderstand. I wanted him dead, too.” He didn’t look at either of us. “I’ve wanted him dead for years, but you can’t remove someone like him.”
My mom sat forward. “You’re the king.” Her nostrils flared. “Not much of one if you let lesser men lord over you.”
I stepped between them before he could attack her again. A hint of a smile played on her lips, but it was gone before I could really tell if it had been there at all. “Please,” I pleaded, glad I didn’t have to grow up around this.
Sargon growled under his breath, moving backward. “I wanted him dead,” he explained, “but he has substantial support in the south. Thousands of aniccipere are in his pocket, loyal to him. He’s been gathering followers for centuries, and supporters in this castle, too. They will think I killed him once word gets out of what he did to you. There were enough witnesses. They’ve been searching for a reason to get me off the throne, and now you’ve handed it to them.”
