Chapter 26 #2
Even Dreynthor had nothing to say to that. No honeyed words, no veiled insults. The High Table members sat frozen, some with approval written across their faces, others with something that looked almost like fear.
Good.
Let them remember who the fuck I was. Let them remember the blood that ran through my veins. The same blood that had carved this kingdom from ash and bone.
I knew I’d spoken like a true king. I’d sounded like my father.
“I think we’ve discussed this matter enough,” Dreynthor said. “We’ll reconvene next week.”
Everyone dipped their heads.
I focused on Dreynthor, and he nodded a sign he wanted me to stay behind.
The room emptied as everyone faded away. I’d catch up with Bastian and Alaric in the courtyard as planned when I was done.
“Moving speech, nephew,” Dreynthor sneered. “Here I am, trying to keep the situation under control, and you seek to cause upheaval.”
“Surely, I don’t have to explain to you that you can’t just keep telling people that we have the situation under control. Especially when we don’t.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It was my point. They need to be aware that the threat has grown substantially. That way, they can protect themselves.”
He chuckled and hit me with a sinister smile. “Yes, and I suppose that frees up time for you to spend with the mage.”
The mage.
Not Elariya. Not even your mage.
Just the mage. Like she was a thing.
My jaw tightened as I assessed him, scanning his face, looking over his imposing frame sitting in my father’s chair. I was still searching for clues. It seemed that was all I could do these days.
This bastard.
What does he know?
Is he working with the dark forces?
Does he know Elariya’s true nature and her curse?
Did he help Thayden try to kill me?
As expected, my search came up blank.
Unless one had the power to read minds or see through secrets, no one would ever be able to tell just by looking at my bastard uncle what treacherous part he was playing. Still, I would always look. I didn’t want the day to come when I missed a beat.
"She's none of your business." My tone could have cut glass.
"Isn't she?" Dreynthor's brows lifted, feigning surprise.
"Forgive me, but when the heir of Galaythia turns down a marriage arrangement with a princess and takes such a.
.. personal interest in his half-human, half-mage apprentice, it becomes my business.
" He said it like the words tasted foul.
“What exactly do you plan to do with her?”
It was the question of the year. Making her love me again wasn’t an answer that would suffice here.
My uncle would laugh me to scorn if he found out just how fucked I was. My mage presently didn’t even remember who I was, and I was holding on to the hope a kiss gave me.
"She's beautiful, I'll grant you that," Dreynthor continued smoothly, waving a hand as if conceding a minor point. "But beauty is fleeting and inconvenient when it clouds one's judgment."
My fingers curled against the armrest, knuckles going white.
Breathe. Don't give him what he wants.
"You look weak, Wolfe. Reckless and weak. Like a boy chasing a pretty face instead of a prince securing a kingdom. All for some little slut who spread her legs—"
My shadows ripped away from me and tightened like ropes around his throat.
It seemed he'd forgotten our encounter the other week and needed a reminder.
Before he could blink, I shifted into Death and gazed at him with soulless, hollowed eyes.
He was no fool. He couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t ready to shit his pants. But I gave him credit for trying to act like he could remain composed enough to fight me.
"I told you. Do not fuck with me. This is my final warning.” My voice was a rasp of tortured souls and gravelly winds. “You will respect her, or I will kill you. I swear to all the Gods above and below. I. Will. End you."
I switched back to normal but let my face remain skeletal.
The door creaked open.
A maid froze in the doorway, her arms full of linens, eyes going wide as dinner plates when she saw my form.
She paled as she took in the scene—me looking like a wraith with my shadows wrapped around Dreynthor's throat, my uncle's face reddening, the fury crackling in the air like lightning about to strike.
For a breath, no one moved.
Then she dropped into a curtsy so fast she nearly lost her balance, linens tumbling from her arms. "F-forgive me, Your Highness. I didn't— I thought the room was—"
"Get. Out." I didn't raise my voice. Didn't need to.
She scrambled backward, snatching up what linens she could reach, and fled.
The door slammed shut behind her.
I released Dreynthor and stepped back, my hands still trembling with the urge to finish what I'd started.
He coughed, one hand going to his throat, but that fucking smile never left his face. If anything, it widened.
"Careful, nephew," he rasped. "Looks like you’re losing control."
Motherfucker. Luck was on his side again.
I didn’t answer. I took a step back, then phased out of the room, leaving before I did something I’d regret.
I was always on the verge with my uncle.
But the shitty thing about what just happened was I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know what I was going to do with Elariya.
I phased into the courtyard. Bastian and Alaric were waiting ahead by the water fountain.
And so were Garrick and Arielle.
The moment I saw them, my heart lodged in my throat. They were supposed to be back at Vyrenth Hollow with Elariya. What were they doing here?
My steps quickened, but the somber expressions on their faces reached me long before I got to them.
“What happened?” I blurted, raw panic twisting my insides.
Arielle stepped forward, her eyes glassy. “It’s Elariya. She’s escaped.”
Everything inside me went cold—my blood, my thoughts, my fucking soul.
My hand went to my shackle on instinct, searching for the pull, the connection that always hummed beneath my skin, tethering us together.
Nothing.
I searched again, deeper, reaching through the bond with everything I had.
Merciless Gods, nothing.
Cold dread slithered down my spine.
She wasn't just gone.
She'd vanished completely.
I couldn’t feel her anywhere.