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“Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?” I spat, unable to hold my tongue.
Frila pouted, white hair shifting around her shoulders as an unseen breeze filtered through the room. “Do not dare speak to me…human.” She spat the word as though it was the greatest of insults.
This was not going well.
“Enough.” Myrinn slapped her hand on the table. I felt the wine within my goblet shiver as though listening to her call. “All these years and we still cannot sit together in peace and discuss matters as families should. How do we expect Evelina to survive if we still treat it with such destructive care?”
“Evelina will thrive once Faenir steps down from succession and allows Queen Claria to pass it on to someone deserving.” Gildir’s knuckles paled as he gripped his goblet, and muscles feathered in his jaw.
“Unfortunately, to your great disappointment, I cannot let that happen,” Faenir replied. He was the calmest of us all, back straight as he sat beside me, a rock of clarity, as though unbothered by the growing tension.
“It should first be clarified that I would have happily abdicated the throne. Not once have I ever desired to take it. Of course, all that changed when Claria forced me into Tithe. You see, my choice has never been my own. Just as she has poisoned you to hate me, she wished for the same with the humans. I am certain you do not need me to repeat just how differently that ended.”
Faenir squeezed my hand and continued. “Claria’s stubborn hate for me will be what kills this world, not I.”
Myrinn’s glass clattered against her plate as she placed it down. Haldor did the same, not until after he took a swig that drained his goblet.
“May I add… I believe Faenir is the only one strong enough to save our world,” Myrinn said. Her gaze brushed over each of us to ensure she had our full attention. “To some of you, this may seem like a game, but it is far from it. Such a decision is serious, and I will do anything to ensure it happens.”
“How disappointing,” Gildir said, shaking his head. “Myrinn, the golden child. Turning her back on her family for some idealistic idea that Faenir, who kills whatever he touches, will not do the very same when given the crown to rule over our world. Sadly, you are alone in your views.”
“No. She is not.” All eyes snapped to Haldor, who sat rigid in his chair.
“You seem to have changed your tune so suddenly,” Gildir said, lips tugging into a menacing smirk. “Not long ago, you gloated about being the next King of Evelina. Now you are out of the running with the… terrible… passing of your human, you change your mind?”
“It has nothing to do with her murder,” he snapped, blazing eyes wide. The many candles that fought against the ominous gloom of the room spluttered higher, fuelled by his emotion. “If you speak about Samantha’s death, then do so correctly. Do you not worry that your mate will be next?”
“My mate is secure with our Queen. Do not waste energy worrying about her, dear brother. Instead help us understand why you suddenly desire to see a monster take the throne.” Gildir drew out his plea, only emphasising how unserious he was.
“Safe from you, I gather?” I said, glaring at the marks on his face.
Gildir’s oak-brown eyes narrowed as he raised fingers to his cheek. “My mate has been hesitant of late. I am sure some heavy encouragement will soon calm her.”
Frila giggled knowingly.
“Death rules the human realm thanks to the vampiric disease the witches spread,” I said, ignoring the unease in my gut. “Claria does not have the power to counter the hordes of the undead that ravage our world and push it closer to complete annihilation. Faenir… he is the only one with the power to counter it, and I believe, stop it. Regardless of what you think of my kind, without us, you are nothing. You cease to exist.”
Gildir studied me up and down with a look of disgust. “I do not understand how Faenir stomachs one with such unwanted—”
Shadows shook the room. Flooding across the table, they snuffed out each candle flame with ease. Left was the dull silvered light that entered from the few windows across the room. It happened so quickly that Gildir swallowed what he had to say next as fear silenced him. A small gasp escaped Frila’s taut lips.
“Watch your tongue, Gildir,” Faenir growled, now standing from the table with a cloak of shadows twisting at his back. “Speak to Arlo in such a way again and I will use you as an example of what happens to those who oppose me.”
I reached for him, threading my hand into the fist at his side. My touch alone had the effect I needed, and Faenir’s power seemed to retreat.
Haldor gestured towards the table, and the candles sprung back to life. I flinched at the sudden light as I willed Faenir to take his gaze from Gildir and look at me.
“I shall take the throne,” Faenir confirmed his intentions, speaking through gritted teeth. “I requested your presence in hopes you would see sense. To ask that you stand with me, not against me, as I finish what is required. I see now that my hopes have been misplaced with some of you.”
Frila glanced towards Gildir, but he did not notice as he watched Faenir with such burning contempt. I was certain he would have burst into flames if he held Haldor’s powers. She then stood from the table, chair kicked out behind her. “I, for one, have heard enough.”
Gildir stood too, chest heaving with each breath. “If we are done here…”
“Sit down,” Haldor shouted. “Both of you. Stubborn as the woman who has poisoned your minds.”
“We are wasting time,” I said to Faenir out of the corner of my mouth.
“Gildir, Frila, please,” Myrinn pleaded, taking another approach as I watched on at the family drama with a parched mouth and headache that thundered far more powerfully than the storm beyond the manor.
