Chapter Ten
Farah
An heir to the throne of Hespali did not exist. Yet, the man standing before her was no bastard, nor was he simply a guard sent to escort them into the castle.
Acacius was Rigas blood through and through and he stared at Farah with an ungodly lure, much different from the sunny disposition he shared mere moments before.
It was feral, almost, in a way that had Farah questioning her sanity.
Blood boiling, Farah wanted to lean into every primal instinct in her body, let the flood gates of her power release until she burnt to nothing but ash.
Sweat clung to her brow and the curve of her back.
The beats of her heart echoed faster and faster in her chest. Tang of copper coated her tongue and she wished to scream, but nothing would happen.
She was imobile. Mute. Dying.
“Enough, Acacius,” Avra snapped, and suddenly the world around Farah returned to normal. “Apologies, young girl, my son sometimes likes to test the fortitude of potential allies or prisoners.”
Spine stiffening, Farah attempted to compose herself. So, the young Grechi’s abilities were mental rather than elemental, much like his cousin. Chloe could persuade and Acacius, well, she was not quite sure what had just happened to her.
“And what is your conclusion, Acacius?” Farah asked. “Are we to be allies or your prisoners?”
The man stepped toward her, his crimson locks flowing behind him like a regal cape.
The air around Farah thickened with every shallow breath she took.
His form dominated the room, regal and tormentating all at the same time.
It only took him moments to brandish down from the dais and fill the space around Farah.
Acacius’s hand grazed against her arm in a long, languid motion.
Silver eyes glistened before her and the prince searched her face.
“I am afraid what I would like you to be is not possible,” he said in a deep voice that rattled her very core. He held her gaze for a moment and Farah felt consumed.
“And what would that be?” Farah’s voice was no longer shaky, nor defiant, but purely intrigued. Intrigued by his look of longing. Intrigued by the scent of smoke and leather that wrapped itself around her. Intrigued by goosebumps that peppered her skin with every inch he leaned in.
“My wife.” His hand gripped around Farah’s, bringing it close to his lips and brushing the faintest of kisses along her finger tips. “It appears you already belong to another. Please tell me he is a brute? A man so heinous I might persuade you to change your mind?”
Belong to another? Farah belonged to no one but the sea.
“She is neither a brute, nor heinous.” Chloe stepped closer, inserting herself between them. “And I fear nothing would persuade Farah to change her mind.”
Farah looked down, catching the light reflecting off the silver and sapphire ring that sat upon her finger.
The ring Chloe begged her to wear into this hall.
Do you trust me more than my aunt? Had she known then that Avra and Halius had an heir?
That the mysterious heir in question would, for some unbeknownst reason, want Farah as his bride?
“It appears we have similar tastes, cousin.” Acacius turned toward Chloe. “How inconvenient. I was willing to convince my mother to aid in your rebellion if I had the opportunity to wed such a…powerful woman.”
“Rebellion? We are fighting against tyranny and colonization. Against destruction of our homes and values. It is not a rebellion when we fight against those who do not belong on our lands to start with,” Chloe spat back.
Farah’s head spun, limbs weak, sounds muffling and vision blurring.
She and Chloe were not truly engaged, it was a facade.
If ending that ruse earned them allies, got the fleet and the army of Hespali, and all of its resources, she must do it.
All she had to do was slip the ring off her finger and hand it back to the wolf, explaining that although she was grateful in the gesture to not force her into an arranged marriage, the fate of Odessia was not worth it.
Fingers shaking, Farah twirled the ring around again.
It truly was a beautiful thing, something she never thought she would possess without the forceful hand of her father’s influence.
What would happen if her father learned of this news?
That his only daughter—although cast out and disgraced—would either marry the son of his former lover or a woman?
Would he gut them both? Like he had done to Celene?
Scraping metal and growls filled the great hall and Farah whipped toward the sound.
A large silver wolf stood in a predatory stance, a swipe of black painted across its eyes.
Opposite the creature, Acacius mimicked the stance, his curved machaira glistening in the fire light of the chandeliers.
The two circled each other, and death shone in Chloe’s blue eyes, even in her wolf form.
Her fangs clacked together over and over in threat.
It did not stop Acacius from lunging at the creature, slamming into her shoulder first with his body versus with his blade.
They rolled in turn on the marble floors beneath and Chloe latched her maw around his arm.
Acacius pushed himself up and sliced his blade along the wolf’s front leg and she released her grip.
“Enough!”
Acacius spun on his heels, lowering his weapon, and Chloe promptly shifted back to her human form, clutching the laceration on her arm, leathers stained in sanguine liquid.
Farah, though, made no sudden movements.
Everything had escalated so quickly, and for what?
Her hand? It couldn’t be just that. After all, Chloe barely tolerated her and Acacius just met her.
The queen stood, crimson leaking from her eyes, her power on full display as the room shook. “There will be no fighting in this room today unless I deem it so. I expected this from my niece, Acacius, but not from my heir. Bloodshed is not to be taken lightly, especially over this.”
Apparently Avra agreed with Farah. She was not worth this.
Using the back of her hand, Avra wiped away the blood stains that peppered her face. It looked as if she just crawled her way off a battlefield and yet her composure was unmatched. The Goddess of Bloodshed was as terrifying and beautiful as they say.
“Is it true then?” Avra questioned, staring Farah down with a sense of tactical wildness in her eyes. “That you, young princess, are to wed my niece?”
It would all come down to this one decision Farah would make. Were they to leave with men and women prepared for battle? Would she leave—or perhaps not leave at all—as a wife? And to whom?
“It is.” Farah would regret those words, but they came out before she could stop herself.
“And this is not out of duty or coercion?” Avra tapped her stained lips with her finger, the one with that enormous ruby ring. “You love her?”
With a swift movement, Chloe came up beside her and clutched her hand, whispering with unease, “Be careful what you say in these halls. You will not be able to take your words back.”
“Is this not what you wanted, little wolf? To make her believe we are to be married. Why you attacked Acacius—to prove yourself true? This is how I do the same. We will be gone soon and she will no longer care about our arrangement,” Farah whispered back.
“I asked you a question, Farah Athanas. Do you love my niece?”
Farah would never be in love again. She had promised herself that long ago, but Avra did not need to know that. “I do.”
“Then it is settled. Acacius, alert the court that we will be holding the Mysteries after all. I am sure they will be thrilled to continue preparations. I know I am.”
Acacius’s stone gaze consumed her once more as a deadly smirk spread across his face.
What had she done? The world around Farah went dark, and finally her body allowed itself to fall.