Chapter 6 #3
The wrong son died… “I know. I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”
He shuffled closer and embraced me. I remembered a time when he held me with fervor and in bigger arms. When he was being a loving father, despite my appearance.
Because he could be so loving when he wanted to.
My king, a man of endless strength I idolized more than anyone.
I’d adored him more than anything. Maybe even more than my mother.
Now, I loathed his touch, his weakness. His fragility did not fit in with my understanding of all that should be.
And I resented him for it. Still, I held him back, placed my hands on his bony back, and took a moment with my father.
Loss had broken him. It felt as if his life were fading from him, that heartbreak could kill a Sidhe as much as a blade.
Every time I saw him, it looked like a piece of him had broken away.
He’d lost his daughter, his grandchild, and eldest son.
His wife was locked in a permanent sleep.
All he had left was me. Clearly, I wasn’t enough to soothe his aching heart.
He needed more to not give in to his terrible fading—family he would never get back.
First, my sister, the princess Jehanne. Second child of King Oberon and Queen Shavon. Pregnant and wed to a Sidhe lord from the south of Summer–Lord Zale. So close to giving birth. The first royal grandchild. Many celebrations were planned, so much joy on the horizon.
My sister was discovered one morning with her throat cut, riddled with poison.
Dead, along with her child. A boy. That same morning, her husband was found hanged in Rosestar Forest. A murder-suicide for no apparent reason.
They’d seemed so happy. Jehanne’s death broke my mother, who completely shut down and ended up in the tallest tower of the palace as a shell in mourning.
Slowly fading as my father did, never speaking, never giving any indication of life.
Next came the death of my brother—eldest son.
Slain on the road by bandits while carrying out official duties in Autumn.
Well, he’d also been hunting unseelie too.
Trying to break through their hold on the north of Autumn.
He liked to hunt. He liked glory. If he’d succeeded, glory would have showered him.
But he’d died.
His human and elf soldiers who’d survived him were put to death for their failures.
And so began the decline of my father. I wasn’t even sure if my mother knew of Daire’s death. I certainly wouldn’t tell her.
One day, he’d be gone, she’d be gone, and there would only be me.
I hated them for it. They’d abandoned me, their third child. I knew my place, the runt of the litter. The strange creature, the coal-eyed freak. The cursed one. I knew I wasn’t worth staying around for, to watch flourish as they stepped away from the throne.
If only I could flee and ignore my conscience at leaving Summer to a worse fate in the hands of some lesser royal. That voice wouldn’t let up, though. Freedom from my blood was nothing but a dream.
“I love you, Valance,” the king whispered into my ear as he held me.
I didn’t believe him. “And you,” I replied uncomfortably.
“You will be a great king. This is a new dawn for our family.” He patted my back. “This union will solidify our future, strengthen our position further.”
All because of iron.
I didn’t know what to say as he pulled back from me, his cold, bony hands cupping my face.
“Son…” he whispered, decay on his breath.
His eyes darted to the door, and he turned to glance at my open balcony window. An uneasiness came off of him. I felt him shudder as he held my face.
“Father?”
“Son, I have… I have things I wish to speak to you about.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “Yes, yes. But not here. Tomorrow. Come morning. Before you interrogate the prisoners.” He dropped his hands. “I command you to spare the sorcerer for the time being. Leave him be in his cell. Keep him alive and safe.”
My face grew hot once again. “What are you saying?”
He glanced around the room again, his eyes uncooked eggs. “Not here.”
“Father—”
“Obey your king, Prince Valance. Do not harm the sorcerer.”
I didn’t question him beyond his command. When the king spoke, I fell in line, even if I resisted him internally. Some acts of rebellion, such as my choice of colored armor, he’d forgive. Others he would not. I knew when to obey.
In fact, it was nice to hear the ferocity in his tone again.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” I bowed.
What was he up to?
“Very good,” my father responded. “Break your fast with me come sunrise. In my chambers.”
“I’d be honored to, Father.”
Breakfast with Oberon? A privilege reserved for my brother, one I last enjoyed on my eighteenth birthday eight years ago.
“Until then,” he said and made his way toward the door.
As if having a sixth sense, Garret had it open and stood to attention as the monarch passed.
The elf glanced at me, bowed, and closed my door.
I slumped on the bed, full of questions.
What was my father up to?