Chapter 35
Edvear interrupts me shortly after Stella’s brief awakening, and I turn a bright grin on him. “Hullo.”
He doesn’t grin back. My stomach drops, knowing exactly what he’s here for. “The High King . . .”
I sigh, setting down my quill and running a hand down my face. “I should have known he wouldn’t be put off for long. What sort of mood is he in today?”
“I’m not sure, my lord, but the servant at the door seemed anxious.”
As much as I hate responding to the High King’s summons, I’ve put this one off long enough. It’s a fine line to walk, of keeping him just angry enough that I can manipulate the situationbut not so explosively angry that he does something unpredictable.
I push myself up to my feet, sighing again, and cast one last forlorn look at Stella. She sleeps much more peacefully now, her skin a normal rosy hue instead of ghastly pale or feverishly flushed. An ache builds in my stomach. I don’t want to leave her until she’s better.
It seems I have no choice, however.
“Keep an eye on her, please,” I say, grabbing an overtunic and shrugging it on. “And if anyone comes to the door, send them away. I don’t care if it’s the tailor, or a scheduled delivery. Don’t open the door while I’m gone.”
He bows. “Of course, my lord.”
With that, I sweep a glamour over the rest of myself, hiding any last visible sign of poison, polishing my tall boots and outfitting myself in a prince’s garb that is just a smidge too casual for visiting the High King. Not that it matters too much; being High King gives him the power to see through glamour.
On my way out, I pause long enough to cast one more ward over my chambers. No one is going to lay a finger on my wife while I’m gone.
The walk to the throne room through echoing marble hallways is not too long—not as long as I should prefer—but I use the time to focus my mind.
I don’t care about my wife. I don’t care about my staff. I don’t care about Rahk. Nothing matters to me but that throne, and I will do anything to get it. I will be ruthless and sacrifice anything in my way.
It’s time to make Faradir pay for what he’s done.
I reach those doors that I used to shrink before. There’s no shrinking now. Before the guards can move to open them, I stride past and shove both doors open so they swing on their hinges—and hit the walls.
My mouth twists into a grin as I meet the High King’s gaze. He lounges in his throne, a bored, lazy expression on his face as he leans his jaw on his fist.
“It really has been too long, hasn’t it?” I say, stopping and spreading my hands wide. “Dear Father, my High King.”
“Everyone out,” snarls the High King.
The court shuffles as everyone hurries to obey. I don’t know why they bother to be here, anyway. Surely, they have better things to do than scurry in and out of the throne room at their king’s whim.
When we’re alone, the High King heaves a great sigh. “Prince Trenian. There you are.”
I flash a grin and bend double in a bow. “At your service.”
“Are you?” he shoots back, tenting his fingers under his chin. “I have a military assignment for you.”
Not what I expected. Is he trying to separate me from Stella so he can kill her more easily? I arch an eyebrow as I lean against my customary pillar, arms crossed over my chest. “Oh?”
“Indeed. I’ve been testing the borders of the human lands long enough. They have no interest in retaliation. It’s time. I want you to lead an attack against Aursailles. Starting tomorrow. I expect the kingdom to be captured by Lulythinar.”
A muscle inside my knee jerks. Not what I expected at all. In fact, this quite complicates matters . . .
“I’m afraid I cannot,” I say, drawing on a disinterested air and inspecting my fingernails. “I’m still on my moondust, you see. Or whatever humans call that time of marital seclusion and bliss following a wedding.”
“You reject this assignment, then?” The glint in his eyes unnerves me. He expected me to decline. Of course he did. Now he’ll make me pay.
It’s suddenly so obvious I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. He’s manufactured an opportunity to punish me. Laying a trap.
I let out a long sigh. “Oh Father. When will you ever stop putting words in my mouth? I don’t reject the assignment. I accept it. I just cannot attack until after Lulythinar. When my moondust is over.”
“I want you to attack now. The assignment isn’t for after Lulythinar. It’s for now.”
“Come, come, Father, we both know you can bear to wait five days for your conquest. You’re just trying to kill my wife. Ruses don’t look good on you.”
The High King says nothing for a long moment. As though contemplating the best way to chew me up and spit me back out. Finally, he reclines in his throne. “Do you know why I endeavor to capture the human lands?”
I tap my chin as though considering. “Because peace treaties are far too last millennia?”
“Because that peace treaty gave the humans land that used to be ours. The humans negotiated the land that is now Aursailles, Osremer, Enslington, and Algravia. But that land used to be ours. Only a weak king would have capitulated so much.”
Or perhaps only a weak king would feel the need to so desperately prove his might. But I withhold that particular thought. “I fail to see what this has to do with why I should go on a rampage against my father-in-law while I am still celebrating my nuptials.”
“You’re not celebrating. The human was poisoned.”
I frown. “The poison has dampened the celebration a bit, true.” No iron coats my tongue, as my statement refers to my own poisoning. By now, it’s second nature to lie without lying.
He lets out a long sigh, wiping his hand down his face. “How did I spawn the most tiresome fae in all the Courts?”
“The mystery of the ages,” I reply dryly, returning my attention to my fingernails. “If we are almost done here, my heart grows anxious to return to my wife.”
“We are not done!” The High King slams his fist down on his throne, rattling a half-filled goblet and the tray of refreshments on a small table beside him. “I should have killed your mother the moment you were born and raised you like a true son of mine. Then maybe we wouldn’t keep playing these games.”
He thinks he’ll get a rise out of me by mentioning my mother. I merely shrug. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I am a true son of yours, and maybe that is what you don’t like about me.”
The High King lifts his hand and snaps.
Cold washes down my spine, but I don’t let it show. I merely glance over my shoulder, schooling my features into boredom.
“Bring it in, Prince Rahk,” says the High King.
Rahk.
I’m not swift enough to hide my reaction—just a twitch of my fingers. The High King’s gaze burns into me, and in the corner of my eye, his mouth curls into a smile. He knows about my friendship with Rahk. But he also knows he cannot hurt Rahk without angering the loyal and powerful Nothril Court.
He can coerce him, however.
Or perhaps . . . no. Rahk wouldn’t betray me. He wouldn’t.
But if he did, then there’s only one person he can be bringing in.
Stella.
The doors open, and there’s Rahk. Standing tall and still, his face the hard, disinterested mask of a warrior. And in his fists, he holds her arms pinned behind her back. Not Stella.
Hylath.
I fight the wave of sorrow, of fury that nearly explodes from me. She’s nothing but a handmaiden. She’s done nothing deserving of death. Just like all the rest.
I hate Faradir.
I hate him so much I barely keep myself from snapping and running to her defense. It’s possible—not likely, but possible—that I could kill him in cold blood. Right here. Right now.
But that would nullify my claim to the throne. Everything I’ve fought for would be gone.
Hylath doesn’t make a sound, her belly expanding with each breath. It’s so unlike her to be still and quiet.
“Last chance,” says the High King, smirking now. “Take my armies. Raze Aursailles. Slaughter the humans. Finish by Lulythinar.”
Last chance to bend, to bow. To destroy my wife’s homelands, the very people she sacrificed herself to save. To leave her unprotected here in the High King’s palace while she recovers.
This is my last chance to show the High King that I am affected by his murder of my loyal staff. My last chance to prove it’s an effective tool.
To leave Stella in a tyrant’s bloody hands.
I meet Hylath’s five bobbling, blinking eyes. She’s the only one of my servants to whom I owe no vow. She said my rescue of her was payment enough. Right now, it doesn’t seem like anywhere near enough.
“Of course not,” I reply. “I told you I am busyuntil Lulythinar.”
The High King leans back in his throne. “Prince Rahk. Remove this creature’s eyes.”
Rahk doesn’t look at me. But Hylath does, her five eyes whirling to me, wide. I meet that gaze, hating that my cold, cruel expression will be the last thing she sees.
Then Rahk shoves her to her knees, presses her face into the floor, the connective tissue supporting her eyes laid out like a bare neck on a chopping block.
It happens so fast I can’t even blink before Rahk’s sword is out, before it’s sliced a clean line straight through flesh. A scream cuts through the air, straight into my chest. Blue blood drips as Rahk pulls my blinded servant to her knees. Her eyes roll like marbles, one coming to stop near my foot.
It’s crueler than just killing her.
“Take her away,” says the High King.
Rahk moves to obey.
“But first . . .”
Rahk stops, glancing back at the High King with that same impenetrable mask.
“Ready my armies, will you, Prince Rahk? I want Aursailles by Lulythinar.”
Of course. Of course. He’ll try to turn me against Rahk by making him his pawn. He’ll give him distinguished tasks like leading his armies, tasks that should be mine, that will show his favoritism. The King and Queen of Nothril won’t be able to argue.
And it’ll be an effective punishment, that I wouldn’t have anticipated.
This is why I told him to stay away from Valehaven for a few days! If only that cursed invitation hadn’t arrived for his sisters, if only he hadn’t come to protect me.
But then he wouldn’t have saved Stella two nights ago.
This was all part of Faradir’s plan from the moment I returned with a human bride.
Rahk clasps a fist over his chest. “It would be my honor, High King, my liege.”
“Very well. You both are dismissed.”
Rahk bows. Then turns and drags Hylath after him, her eye tendons wilted and her body shaking in pain. I don’t move for a long moment. Not until the doors are shut. Then I lift my attention to the High King.
“Have something to say to me?” he asks, folding his hands across his stomach and regarding me with the barest hint of smugness in the twitch of his jaw. His long golden hair falls over his shoulder and gleams almost as brightly as his teeth. “You might consider obeying me for once, and then perhaps I won’t send your friend for your wife’s throat.”
I curl my lips at him. “I thought I told you that my wife’s throat belongs to me. No one touches it except me.”
The High King’s chuckle reverberates against me as I stride out of the throne room. Just like that, the castle of my schemes crumbles to pieces. There’s no time to wait for the Nothril Court and the Neverseen King to ally over the Orawyth portal. There’s no time for anything.
It’s only a glamour that keeps anyone from seeing how my hands tremble with fury.