Chapter 22
VALANCE
I stared at the space the old woman had occupied moments ago. Silver eyes and magic in her hands, the jolts in my body, the visions of Kormac floating in the stars.
“Hello?” I said uselessly.
The apparition was gone. And that could be the only explanation for her. An apparition. She wasn’t real.
He is coming… Let him find you…
Kormac. The human was coming? I knew he was because he had to come. He had to be near me. By my side always. There was nothing but pain if he wasn’t.
It made no sense.
My bedroom door opened, the female elf and six of my father’s royal guard flooding the space. Weapons ready. My father followed them next, with two more guards behind him.
He strode in, not shuffling. Incredible. Still a weak-looking man, but the anger on his face did his stature good.
I tensed under his scrutiny.
“What have you done, Son?” His voice held a lot of dominance.
“A spell…” My tone was meek in comparison.
“You murdered your friend, the mayor, and everyone else in that royal box. In cold blood. Witnesses are still pouring out their statements.”
Tears and rage. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Father, I would never harm Maeve. You know that. She is my sister.”
His eyes narrowed. “Jehanne was you sister, and she is dead. Don’t you dare call that elf your sister. She was not your blood.”
“More than Jehanne was!” I yelled.
He tilted his head, bending over me. “As dead as her now.” He snarled.
“I have always regarded you as a disappointment, Valance. Always loathed you and how you carry yourself. Never mind a cursed prince, more like me being cursed king. Yet I held hope in your forthcoming marriage, truly believed in you. That you would come through and do what needed to be done for this family. However, I see that can never happen. I see that any hope given to you is a mistake.” His snarl was so vicious.
“I thought I could love you. But I cannot love a monster.”
My labored breaths hurt as much as his words. They seared me. “Father… I love—”
He struck me across the face. “Don’t you dare.” Spittle flew from his mouth, his complexion crimson. “You are no son of mine. Look at you. Just look at you.” He pulled away from me. “In light of this incident, there will be a trial.”
“A what?”
“A trial, Valance. A trial against the prince.” He closed his eyes. “In all my life, I have never heard of such a shameful thing. My heart is broken. My only son has shamed me. He is no prince. He is no—”
“It was the sorcerer!” I barked. “He did something to me with his magic.”
Father’s eyes shot open. “A spell? No, Valance. His magic was suppressed. His death was witnessed by the entire arena. Do not try to spout pitiful lies to save yourself. I cannot save you, and neither can your words. You have brought this on your own head.” He leaned in close again, putting his mouth to my ear. “You disobeyed my orders, didn’t you?”
As he lifted away, I tried to lunge at him. The chains were heavy against me, but didn’t stop me from trying. “You bastard!”
“You have seen for yourself,” he addressed his guards, “what kind of son I have. Wanting to harm his father, using such language against me.” He shook his head. “I will mourn this day.”
I had a degree of political immunity to be used in my favor. There didn’t need to be a trial, but it would be better to have one to save face. This situation could be rectified. A proper investigation would get to the truth—that Ren had hit me with a spell.
Like the old woman…
But Father didn’t want that, did he? He wanted to go with a narrative painting me as a villain. Ruin me. I saw it. I knew it. The king had lost his mind. The king hated his son.
The king didn’t want to align with Spring. Now his plan of gaining a weapon in Ren had failed.
Because of me.
“I would like some moments alone with my son,” he said.
They obeyed, happy to leave their king with this helpless prince. I watched them go, watched their new hate. King Oberon loathed me. They loathed me.
I was alone and terrified and smothered in sorrow. I couldn’t take this. I had to—
Not alone. He is coming for you…
More tears. “Father…”
He didn’t speak until the guards emptied.
Plenty of unseelie looked upon me with hatred. An expected thing. But for my father to do it? Danu, it only added to my grief.
The king was lost to me now, in one look.
He folded his arms behind his back. “I knew you would fail. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the pull of disobedience.
You never could.” The bastard sat down on the bed, his back pressing against my leg.
“Dreams are instruments of torture as much as they are pleasure. Particularly for a parent. We dream of so much for our children’s futures, hold on to hope as if it were the most precious of pearls.
But those dreams are dead for me and your mother. We have endured four dream deaths now.”
“I’m not dead, Father. I’m not a monster. It was the sorcerer. I don’t know how, but—”
“Save your breath, Son. It is over for you.”
“But—”
“I don’t want this. I don’t want you. I have tried too long to love you.”
I wanted to be sick. “Father, please. I love you. You love me. You must love me.”
He turned to his head to face me, his cheeks wet with tears. “Not like Daire. Not like Jehanne. You’re not the third child I expected. When I see your dark eyes, my body turns cold. There is something wrong with you.”
“How can you say this to me?”
“Because it is truth. I do not believe the sorcerer put a spell on you. I believe this is the culmination of twenty-six years of failure.” He fingered one of the chains. “You are a dark creature. A curse upon this family.”
“No! I have been cursed! Ren cursed me!”
“Do not shout, Valance.” His voice had lost its luster again.
“Father…” As much as he irritated me for giving up, my soul couldn’t bear this. I wanted his love, wanted him to make things better. “I’m not a monster. I didn’t kill them willingly. This is shadow magic. The mistake was not killing Ren in the forest.”
He shook his head, sighed heavily. “Your mother and I once discussed ending you. You were no more than eight months old. In your crib, eyes as onyx as a starless night. You terrified your mother. Where were the bright colorings of the Sidhe? Why did her child appear to be born of midnight and storms? I feared you, too. We spoke over you as you slept, of smothering you, of staging a tragedy. Our hearts resisted.”
Was I really hearing this?
“Now we find ourselves here,” he said. “At a crossroads.”
I released a shaky breath. “But not really. You have come to a decision.” White hot rage bubbled in my depths.
“Indeed, Son. I have. I cannot take this disgrace. I cannot face the drama. Do you know the palace if rife with whispers of your exploits and your character? They call you strange, call you hedonistic and a shadow. You speak with slaves with more respect than your own family.”
“Slaves offer respect and receive it.”
“More than your family?”
“Curse them all,” I retorted.
“You would curse your own blood?”
“For their gossip? Yes!” The bubbling rose closer to the surface.
My father stood up. “I will not have more whispers to join these. They will never stop talking about what you have done, cleared name or not. This is a stain on you.”
“It is a spell!” I cried.
He shook his head. “It matters not. I will see you ended.”
I strained against the chains. “Why, Father? Why are you doing this? You have to help me!”
But I knew why.
I sobbed. “You would rather war.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Many will die.”
“A price I am willing to pay to preserve my family line.”
There, under the light of a thousand suns, was the core truth of it.
A truth I’d always suspected but kept at bay because I didn’t want to give it life.
Now it throbbed like a living beast. My father, King Oberon, wanted me dead so he could go to war.
Break this forthcoming alliance, destroy Spring.
I should have been proud of him for the strength of character he still had. That was my father, not the fading old man. In doing so, his fading may reverse.
Yet he wanted my death. He was willing to work against me, to condemn me.
I relayed this to him.
At least he cried. At least he displayed some semblance of regret. “I have no choice.”
“You could have asked me to go to war.”
“Never.”
“Why?”
“I do not want you in a war.”
My feet curled in my boots, my hands claws. “Why not? I can die on the battlefield and make you proud. You don’t really care about my safety, as you tried to feign by asking me to not leave the palace.”
“On the contrary. I did value your safety.”
“Liar.”
My father wiped at his tears. “Why do you enjoy hurting me?”
“Why do you want your last child dead? You’re the monster. Not me.”
He didn’t respond.
“Father, please. I’m sorry. Let us work together in solving this. Let me fight for you if I’m not to marry Lord Florent. Let us break Spring together.”
Desperate times required desperate pleas.
They fell on deaf ears.
“The trial will begin tomorrow. I will see it is swift. That your end is quick.”
My anger exploded so furiously I lost myself to blurred nightmares again. I felt myself moving, the chains breaking. Heard my father’s cries as horrors assaulted my mind.
Wetness and blood and clashing of swords and cries of many.
I came back to myself covered in blood, catching sight of myself in my dresser mirror. My father lay at my feet with his throat torn out, his royal guard scattered around him. I held an elven sword in my hand. My chains and shackles broken.
The king was dead. More death from my cursed hand. Whatever spell Ren had afflicted me with, its objective seemed clear: Make the prince a murderer.
Hurried footsteps echoed in the hall beyond my chambers. I readied myself for battle, blade trembling in my hands.
I’ve killed my father. I’ve killed my father. I’ve killed my father.
Kormac ran into view, coming to a halt feet away.
He is here.