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“We’re too different, the fae blooded, the demon spawns, the eldritch. Some obey the way of the water, others have fire in their blood. How can one man rule over all?”
If anyone else had questioned my position like that, I would have had to make an example out of them, but it’s Rath Vornel, Duke of Autumn, and the oldest creature in the eternal realm still accounted for. He can take liberties others wouldn’t, given the might of his land and the wisdom of his years.
“Nyxar isn’t my playground, Rath,” I state. “I don’t interfere in local affairs. I don’t tell any of you how things should be. I am the symbol that keeps the local lords from fighting over scraps, and ensures Allea remains where it belongs, behind their borders. So long as the land of light is united, we too must be in order to prevent them from trying to take over.”
He regards me with little change to his manner. He knows what I’m telling him. He still believes he’d fare better by himself, and perhaps he would. The twelve other lands, not so much. We need him. He’s not certain he needs us. Nor am I.
“What happened to your wife?” I ask, returning to the subject at hand, and the offer I must voice.
“What happens to all of them, eventually. Someone wanted her, and I was too busy fighting against your grandfather to protect her.”
Again, he’s toneless, cold, practically dead.
“Rhea’s mine,” I say. “But I can let you play with her. She’d quite like it.” I didn’t miss the heat in her eyes as I made Vess pin her the other day. Her nipples stood to attention when he mentioned he’d fuck her eventually. “I would like us to be friends, Rath, or at the very least, friendly."
I couldn’t find anything to offer him in exchange for his support before. Now, I can.
“Hm.” I consider myself inscrutable, but I could take lessons from him. “Interesting, indeed.”
22
RHEA
Once Mir is done dressing me, she tells me I’m at my leisure until tonight, and disappears.
I have no clue when the night is supposed to be, and the permanent night outside isn’t of any help. It’s beautiful, of course. The bright stars are highly visible so far north. I spend far too much time staring at them as they twinkle in the endless darkness, but I can’t stare at the sky forever.
I should attempt to rest while I can, but I can’t bring myself to even try.
First, I check each corner, each piece of furniture, behind the paintings, without a care for the footmen and guard who observe me curiously. There’s nothing of use, no hidden door, no secret nooks. Defeated yet restless, I pace back and forth in my room for hours. I’m not tired, too agitated to feel my usual fatigue. Occasionally, I pick up one of the few books lying on a console, then setting it down when I can’t focus on a single word.
A servant comes in with tea and cakes I don’t touch, too unsettled to feel much hunger.
At long last, a guard appears, to lead me back down to one of the halls—not the throne room this time; a banquet hall. I am taken to the principal table where the king is already seated, his circle around him—three at each side. There’s also an eighth newcomer, a man who might have been Vessorian’s brother, or perhaps his cousin. Their features are almost identical, though he seems younger, and if possible, even colder.
I note no place for me anywhere. Before I can question what I’m supposed to do, Doryn pats his lap.Of course he wants me there, like a good little lapdog.
Is that to be my life for the next hundred years if I can’t rid the world of this king? Picked up when my master wishes to play with me and discarded once he’s done.
“How did you spend your day, darling Rhea?”
I shrug. “I don’t have much to do.”
“You could go down to see the horses,” Alrion suggests. “We have beautiful ones in the north, and very different from yours.”
I can handle the dress, if one can call this sheer thing and its leather strings that. I can handle the stares. Who can blame the king’s guests? I would have looked too. What I can’t handle is this traitor talking to me.
I take the king’s knife too fast for anyone to stop me, and toss it with an accuracy that would make Doplov proud, aiming for his shoulder—it might not kill him, but it will sure as hell hurt.
By Alrion’s side, Silver seizes it between her two fingers, her swift catch effortless. She looks almost bored. “Good throw,” she acknowledges.
The rest of the table chuckles.
“Ah, my murderous beauty, life isn’t likely to ever get dull with you around.” Far from upset, the king lowers his head to my neck and nuzzles my skin.
I’m startled. They aren’t mad?
I moved before thinking things through, but I expected to be punished. In fact, all four of us could have been punished because of my actions. As much as I despise my old friend, I’ll have to control myself around him, lest I earn the others their share of retribution.
