Chapter Twenty-Two
Asher
A fter I had completely broken down in Shah’s arms, the two of us decided that it was time we stop letting others control our lives. We both wanted a world in which our nightmares faded and our dreams came true. In order to secure this future, we had to work together.
Without much thought, I took the lead in plotting ways Eoforhild could aid Behman, especially when they were sending their people to fight in a war that was not their own. Over the last hour, Shah and I discussed strategies, alliances, potential enemies, and everything in between. Most importantly, we calculated ways in which we could maintain the safety of the forces she would rally for Eoforhild. The numbers were small, but I knew better than anyone that a single soul could alter the future.
“We will keep your forces behind the demons, acting as a sort of last defense. I cannot promise they will not die, but I can give my word that I will fight to my death to protect them.” Hoping my words conveyed the honesty within my heart, I wiped my hands on my gown.
Shah had offered me a stunning violet piece, the lavender lace work on top of the cotton adding dimension that mirrored Nicola’s favored dresses. The amount of material was both overdone and impossibly comforting. There was a sense of peace that came with the weight of the fabric attempting to anchor me in place, even the tight bodice was oddly grounding. It reminded me of the good that I needed to fight for, the parts of Betovere that not only needed, but deserved to be saved.
Hardening my heart was not as difficult as I thought, not when I had so much to be furious about. So I let it consume me, that red-hot rage within, the very temper that Mia chastised me for time and time again. It propelled my mind forward, helping me gain enough speed to make the alliance with Behman work.
“I will not force anyone to join, but even those willing might not be ready to die. So it means a lot to me that you are prepared to protect them.” Shah was wearing a similar gown, though hers seemed to be thinner, less flamboyant in its size.
Three cups of coffee in, I came up with a system in which Eoforhild could portal ships of supplies to Behman as payment. When the agreed upon debt was paid, then the demons would continue to trade with the mortals of Behman, as well as any other kingdom that brought their banners to our cause. Shocked was an understatement for how Shah reacted to the offer. She was stunned into silence for a few minutes, which prompted me to admit I did not necessarily have the authority to make the agreement. We had fetched Henry, as well as Wrath, and now the two of them sat nearby.
Henry had not made contact with Bellamy, but he was confident the prince would be willing to accept the terms of the alliance. The captain in Henry took over as Shah and I discussed placement of her soldiers, his presence suddenly moving from the background to my side.
“Yes, that would be safest in theory, but the fae are smart and strong. They can take out a hundred soldiers in the blink of an eye, and I fear they might target your party for what their rulers will view as treachery.”
Having not thought of that, I sat down, trying to reform a plan in my head that would lead to the least loss of life. But that was the hardest part because there would be loss of life no matter what. Innocent fae forced to fight and die, demons wielding swords to save their realm, and mortals battling for something better.
Unless…
“Okay, so then we train together. Portal any man and woman willing to fight into Eoforhild and teach them. Merge them into our ranks, mask them. That ensures they are not targeted, makes them more equipped to fight, and presents us as a united front.”
Both queen and captain seemed to contemplate my plan, their faces pinched. Wrath remained silent at my back, but I could practically feel him there, the excitement in his mind loud.
“Hear me out. What is the best outcome of this war?”
Without hesitation, Henry answered, “Eoforhild is victorious.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Let me rephrase. What is the best outcome of this war for everyone ?”
Wrath chuckled, the sound making Henry jump. A near silent spew of curses left his lips, but then Shah spoke, cutting him off from his tirade.
“We are all victorious.” Hands to her lips and brow still furrowed, it seemed Shah was picturing that world, how we could achieve such a thing.
With a sigh, I turned around, walking over to Wrath. He was seated on a small sofa, curled up and tracking us. Scooting next to him on the green velvet, I absently scratched behind his ears as I thought.
The idea of fighting against my own kind again made my stomach churn. If Bellamy was right, then I was fae, but there was something other inside of me. Even if I had no fae blood in my veins, even if I was the horrifying creature from the Underworld that many thought me to be, I would still want safety for the realm that raised me.
Yes, ideally, all would survive this.
“If we have a big enough army, then maybe we can get them to pause long enough for me to challenge Mia. Xavier taught me a lot about politics, but he also schooled me on war and universal laws. I was brought up on strategies and winning plays, reared for a position of power. Because of that, I know that to decline a direct challenge from an enemy will be seen as weakness. She would never allow it, not when she has been hiding away her power for centuries in order to showcase it in a display of triumph. It will be too good of an opportunity to pass up, and she thinks me weak-willed enough to pull my hits.”
More than that, I knew what it was like to be desperate to prove yourself—to need the acceptance of those around you in a way that was all-consuming. Mia wanted the respect afforded to a supreme ruler, and she would do anything to gain that, even risk her life for the chance to slaughter me in front of thousands. Once, I was something to mold and craft—a toy—but now, I was the enemy that needed to be silenced.
“Is she right?” Shah’s question held no hint of animosity or hostility, but it still sank deep into my chest, piercing through my already shredded heart. What Shah did not know was that I had suffered the consequences of doing so once before.
The blood-soaked soil of Haven was proof of that.
Henry stilled, his green eyes taking on a haunted look before moving to me. His plum tunic and black trousers were tight-fitting, the tops of his low-cut boots showing due to the pants being too small. Shah was unfazed by Henry’s open caution, casually leaning forward against the wooden table in the center of the meeting room, her dark eyes never leaving mine.
“I want to say no, but I cannot deny that I have failed to stand up to her for two hundred years.” My voice wavered, tears pricking my eyes. Wrath snuggled further into me, so out of character for the dalistori. Though I only knew him for a few days, I was confident in the fact that the creature cared little for the feelings of others.
Before the sense of dread and self-loathing could take root, I took a deep breath and remembered the anger hiding behind the sorrow. Mia had taken everything from me. From the magic in my veins to the love in my heart, the fae queen stole and stole until I was but a husk, empty and devoid of substance.
Shah made her way over to me, momentarily stopping to stare at Wrath—whose yellow eyes were alight with curiosity as his tail swished back and forth. When Shah leaned down, snatched up his body, and promptly set him back down on her lap, the dalistori looked too shocked to speak, tiny mouth agape to show razor sharp teeth.
If the queen noticed the hostility that slowly began to taint the air around us, she did not show it. Instead, she softly scratched Wrath in the same way I had been, shushing him sternly when he let out a soft growl. I laughed, a brief and sharp chuckle that was not enough to block out the never-ending screams of my own mind.
“You are a queen, not just by right or name, but in your very soul. Not many are brave enough to dream of something better, especially those of us who have suffered for doing the same early on. But even the brave stumble, even the brave fail. Forgive yourself so that you may save others from enduring the same fate.”
With that, she stood, lifting a disgruntled yet pacified Wrath into her arms. “You are lucky that I have not feasted on that bleeding heart of yours, mortal girl.”
“Oh, shut up. We are off to find cake. I tire of strategizing.” Passing Henry with a soft nod, she said, “Those who are willing can travel to Eoforhild. As for the rest of the matters, send your prince back so we may further discuss.”
Looking back at me once more, Shah said a goodbye in the only way someone broken by betrayal could.
“I pray to the gods that you remember who you are, Queen Asher.” And then she was gone, taking Wrath with her.
Henry watched her leave, jaw tight and mind unshielded. Allowing myself a quick look, I slowly entered his mind, finding Genevieve at the forefront. My surprise was fleeting because soon the selfish desire to avoid the heavy topic Henry was about to bring up replaced it.
“So you apologized to her?” His face remained aimed at the door, but the tick of his jaw and the quick sweep of his eyes my direction made it clear he was listening. After a couple of agonizing seconds, involving me staring at the side of his freckled face and him pretending not to notice me, the pumpkin caved.
“Yes.” Still, he did not face me. Not because he wished to prevent the conversation, but because he knew that discussing it meant having to fight with me. It was clear in the slump of his shoulders and the heavy sighs that repeatedly left his lips. As if I were the exhausting one of the two of us.
Well, I was—but he did not have to make it so obvious.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tone calm, I stood, walking casually to his side. If I got close enough to the door, then I could probably—
“No. Do not change the subject, little brat.” Three more steps, and I would be at the opposite side of the large table, the dark wooden furniture providing the perfect amount of space.
“I guess it is my turn then.” Letting my finger slide over the last bit of table left, I looked at him and winked. His answering glare was all I needed to know he was far too serious for this early in the morning.
So I did the only reasonable thing I could when facing an uncomfortable conversation about my feelings. I ran.
“We need to talk about this, Ash!” Henry’s shouts rang through the hall as I sprinted barefoot across the cold yellow floors. Twice I had run from my problems within the last twenty-four hours. A smarter fae would have learned her lesson by now, but no one had ever really classified me as smart.
Manipulative? In more ways than one.
Evil? Obviously.
Beautiful? Sure.
Smart? Rarely.
Another trait not often associated with me? Contrite.
Apologizing was not something an heir learned in Academy nor was I taught it from Mia and Xavier. In fact, I was always highly encouraged to never admit weakness by apologizing unless I was backed into a corner. Over the last few months of my time in Betovere, I had found myself practically glued into that corner, and still, I was struggling to find the words to say as I made my way to Genevieve’s guest chambers.
In Henry’s memory, he had walked from the room given to him—which was right beside my own despite my embarrassing self-guided tour last night—and then taken a right turn, following until he reached a green door with yellow flowers.
One set of stairs, three hallways, and an angry string of curses later, I was standing in front of the princess’ chambers that she always occupied when visiting her best friend. To my eternal disbelief, the two of them were inseparable. Shah had told me little of their friendship, but she did say that Genevieve was our best chance at securing an alliance with Maliha. I truly did not expect them to ever help when I had physically assaulted their precious prince.
The foul little shit.
Still, I could make things right with her. Even if I would sooner kill her brother than allow him to breathe in my presence once more. With clenched teeth, a racing heart, and memories of a foot slamming into my stomach, I sighed and knocked two times.
A loud groan came from the other side, followed by the creak of an old bed as someone shifted. Momentarily, I considered entering her mind, if only to see what she planned to do with the information she learned yesterday. Genevieve had the potential to not only sever any alliances between Eoforhild and the mortal kingdoms before they could be formed, but also to alert Mia and Xavier to my whereabouts. This game of chess I was beginning was dangerous, one that might involve sacrificing pawns to protect the board.
Abruptly, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled and barely awake Genevieve. Her forest green night dress was rumpled, her golden curls a mess of knots. The most interesting part of her appearance, though, was the small spot on her neck, the red mark slowly taking on a purple hue.
“Gods, it is you.” Acidic tone and vicious glare aside, Genevieve did not seem that upset to see me. In fact, the energy radiating off of her was strangely vibrant, as if the prospect of a conversation with me was exciting. However, that enthusiasm quickly dimmed when I attempted to smile.
Before I could say anything of substance, Genevieve was slamming the door in my face, the sound of wood meeting wood so loud that it echoed across the hallway. For a moment, I stood there in baffled silence, so surprised that I could not think beyond the rage that was slowly building inside of me.
Bitch.
This time, I did not knock. Instead, I shoved through the door, letting it smack into the wall. Genevieve’s scream of shock was a glorious sound, so different from her brother’s yet just as appealing. Based on the princess’ horrified face, the smile I flashed her did the job. As always, that fear seemed to spark something visceral within me, the magic in my chest humming with anticipation.
“You cannot just barge into my chambers, you monster!” Cringing at the shrill tone, I walked further into the room, noting that it was nearly identical to mine. The same awful colors, as if they could not find a better shade of green or yellow—one which did not burn my eyes.
“Based on your foul attitude, I expected a far more original insult. Alas, just like your brother, you seem to be prone to disappointing me.” As soon as the words slipped from my lips, I knew I had failed. My attitude had gotten out of hand in my time of freedom. Backtracking, I pasted a smile on my face and turned to face her. “That was horribly rude of me, I do apologize, I got very little sleep last night.”
Genevieve huffed, crossing her arms and lifting her chin. “I am sure the demon prince did not either.”
Chanting to myself that I could not kill the girl, I took four deep breaths and turned away from her once more, allowing my horribly fake smile to fall. As luck would have it, something on the bench at the end of her bed caught my eye. Something that was not green or yellow or blue. No, this was red—the deep red of Haven.
When I faced the silent mortal princess again, my smile was anything but false. “I came to apologize for my behavior last night. I should not have forced you to drink that wine, nor should I have insulted your brother. As you can likely tell, we immortals have a tendency to lean towards chaos.”
Whether it was my calm voice or my specific choice of words that put Genevieve on edge, I was unsure. But whichever it was, she immediately went on defense.
“Trust me when I say that I expect no less from savage beasts such as yourselves. You are all psychotic on the best of days if your behavior last night was any indication.”
I hummed in agreement, watching with glee as her eyes darted to the cloak before quickly returning to me, the panic there beneath the disdain.
“Ah yes, Henry in particular is known to be quite savage.” Genevieve’s throat bobbed, jaw flexing. “Speaking of the carrot top, I sent him to apologize last night. Tell me, did he find you?”
What I did next was despicable, petty, and truly moronic. But watching her face as I walked to the wooden bench and sat beside the discarded red cloak, the very one Henry wore almost daily since I met him months ago, was worth any repercussions I might suffer from.
“This is a strange apology, and I do not accept. Now get out before I have you thrown out.” She pointed her finger at the door, eyes burning with rage and cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Still, she made an imposing figure, even with hair rumpled from sex.
So, you shame me at a political dinner for bedding a demon, then do the exact same thing an hour later and expect no one to bat an eye? Interesting time to choose hypocrisy.
Not moving, I bore witness to the color draining from her face and a tremor shaking her hand. Fun did not begin to describe the feeling of being inside of a terrified mind. It was something that used to bring guilt to my soul. Enjoying the pain of another creature as you violated their most private thoughts was evil, and I would not dare deny that. But, in the spirit of allowing my anger to lead the way, I could not bring myself to feel that same guilt I used to drown in daily.
“I did not steal away a loved brother and child. I did not betray my fiancé by—”
“Wrong there, Gen.” Her hand fell at the nickname, or perhaps it was the fact that I cut her off. No matter, the girl did not scare me in the same way she had before. Blackmail was never something I would consider months ago, but now I did not hesitate. “You are promised to the third son of King Mordicai and Queen Demis, the rulers of Heratt. Though he is too young to wed now, you both are still expected to be faithful to the coming union upon his sixteenth birthday.”
And then I had her. The princess ran, the speed with which she crossed the room to dive into her bathing chamber impressive. A phantom kick to my side and grip of my neck reminded me that she was not the only quick one in her family. Nor was she the only one prone to mistakes, which was why I would not let her get away with what she had done without helping us.
Retribution came in many forms. Death. Imprisonment. Poverty. Or, in Sterling’s case, threats to his sister. I heard her heave though nothing seemed to be exiting her body. More vomit had surrounded me these last few months than in my entire existence. Despite that, I walked forward slowly, making my way to the yellow door that was faintly ajar.
I rapped on it with my knuckles, rolling my eyes when Genevieve cursed and told me to leave. With my foot, I pushed the door open. She kneeled on the floor, face hanging over the basin as her body shook with the force of her gags. Someone was going to have a horrible time cleaning that out.
To my annoyance, my conscience won out, forcing me to make my way to her. Grabbing her hair with one hand, I held it up as the other hand rubbed her back. She reached up to swat me away, but I stopped rubbing her back to flick her in the head instead. To my bewilderment, the princess laughed.
“You know, I was actually hoping to ask you questions—on your future wedding day, I mean. I had been eager to meet you, thinking that you would bring much needed peace and hope to my brother. He has always been restless, desiring more than was given to him. Even now, I have so many questions. Too many. And I fear you will not answer any of them truthfully, just as your parents do not.”
With a sigh, I leaned over and grabbed a yellow towel before sitting down beside her. Gods, my curiosity and ridiculous need to be helpful would be the end of me some day.
Dipping the towel into her already filled tub, I tried to remain calm as I dabbed the wet cloth on her forehead. Her perplexed face lessoned some of the tension, the widening of her eyes revealing flecks of green within the brown.
“First of all, they are not my parents. I was lied to my entire life, surrounded by pain and told it was bliss. Never would I do something like that to another being if I could help it. Ask me anything, and I promise to answer you truthfully.” Every bit of my tone and demeanor exuded calmness, but underneath, I was full of panic at the idea of giving this girl answers she might later use against me. Like the sea just before a storm, the current of thoughts in my mind built, converging together to stir the water that was my sanity into pandemonium.
Genevieve seemed just as apprehensive, but I forced myself to remain within only my own head, affording her the peace that I often stole from others. Her gaze flicked between both of my eyes, her hands still tightly gripping the basin as I slid the wet cloth across her skin. When it became clear she was not going to speak, I huffed and slid behind her, discarding the towel on the checkered tile.
A laugh tried to fight its way to the surface when she flinched at my fingers touching her hair, but I held it back in hopes of not proving myself to be the wretched monster she thought I was. Not that I would deny what I knew to be true, but everyone enjoyed living in delusion sometimes.
Softly, I separated some of the knots, trying to restore her curls to their former glory. The coils were soft, though they had lost their silky sheen from last night. Henry deserved a pat on the back for how thoroughly he undid her, if the embarrassment and lust that leaked from the princess was any indication. Reinforcing that golden gate inside of my head, I shoved out all that she was projecting, leaving her to those thoughts.
By the time I was able to successfully untangle her hair, Genevieve still had not spoken, though her shoulders relaxed and her breathing steadied. Pushing my luck, I began braiding the strands, mimicking the way Winona had often done my hair to settle me.
“I still cannot stand you, but I respect you enough to be honest. Please, tell me what plagues your mind,” I whispered, taking care not to scare her.
Her back straightened at my words, body tensing. Before I could apologize or attempt a different route, Genevieve let out a small chuckle, turning to face me for a moment. The way in which she scrutinized should have angered me, but it only reassured me that the princess was exactly who she showed herself to be—angry, smart, resilient, and determined. All traits I could understand and value.
“Something is wrong with Sterling. I can tell. He does not write often, and when he does, it is as if he is keeping secrets from us. The missives are always vague and unfeeling. I just want to know what you did to him. That is all.”
Despite how infuriating the words were, her broken and sorrowful tone made me think through my answer carefully. How did one explain to a girl that her brother was a psychotic beast in mortal skin? Clearly, he was never violent or wicked with her, which likely meant it was my own refusal and dismissive nature that brought out his rage. I was not stupid. I knew that I could be difficult and hard to please, but that did not justify the abuse and mistreatment I had suffered at his hands. Even the small touches had been violating. But what would I say to Genevieve that would convince her of that truth when she so clearly was not willing to accept what her brother had become? Or worse, what he had always been just beneath her nose.
“Mia once encouraged me to imagine how it would feel to be removed from my realm and home, forced to live with beings I had never met. She said it so I could better understand your brother, though, little did she know, I would be taken weeks later and forced into the exact same situation.”
The princess turned to face me, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin upon them. She looked so small—so young—sitting there in that way. At twenty-eight, she was three years older than her brother, and still, that was one hundred eighty years my junior. They were quite literally children, forced to grow up too soon and push away feelings that were not royal.
For the second time that week, I realized just how similar I was to a mortal woman.
“I was not permitted to use my magic on Sterling, and I tried with all of my might to like him, but even without my abilities I could see through his fa?ade.”
Genevieve’s eyes hardened, the sound of her teeth smacking together as she clenched them telling me just how angry she was growing. Time was running out to make her understand.
“Never would I dare to say that he was a bad brother, son, or prince. With that being said, Sterling was not good to me. He attacked me, breaking three of my ribs and splitting open my head. All because I did not want to speak with him—because I did not want him. I pushed first when he began insulting me, so perhaps it was my fault, but it was I who ended up broken and bloody on the floor. I can still feel his hands on my skin and his fingers around my throat.” My voice was raspy, the emotions trying to fight their way to the surface, but I snuffed them out, suffocating them until they ceased their attempts. “I might have retaliated, but I did nothing to his mind.”
When she stood, sneering down at me and pointing to the door, I knew my time was up. “Get out, you lying abomination. Get out before I show you how hard we mortals train to be able to tear your kind apart.”
She was still as unoriginal as her brother, and just as foolish. The horrid part of me hoped she never got another letter from him. The truly evil side hoped I could drag my dagger across his throat and silence him forever. It would be a blessing to the world, really.
With the discussion so clearly over, I stood, wiping my palms on the fabric of my dress. Genevieve did not lower her finger, nor did she cease her glare as I took my time leaving. My bare feet brushed across the carpet, this one sporting a floral design, and I paused. Turning one final time, I found she was not far away, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.
I am sorry I could not give you the answers you wanted to hear. For what it is worth, if I succeed in taking the fae throne, I will not marry him. I will allow him to come home to you and make your family complete once more.
She jolted at the sound of my voice echoing inside of her mind, a chill racking through her body and leaving noticeable goosebumps in its wake. Her tears were quick to both come and disappear, the slight raise of her chin a sign that she was not willing to show me any more vulnerability.
I wondered what it must be like for Genevieve. She did not have power or magic, nothing that would propel her beyond the definition of female. In a world where daughters were practically sold off to eligible males, Genevieve was likely only seen as a womb and a title.
You are worthy of joy, Genevieve. Whatever makes you so angry, so bent on spewing hatred, know that you are allowed to let it go. You are not to blame for Sterling’s absence, nor are you evil for enjoying the company of a willing male. Allow yourself the grace that you likely afford that brother of yours—forgive so your soul may heal.
This time, I did not turn again, making my way to the door quicker than before. There was nothing else I could do, no words that would change her mind—not even those I had spoken, so similar to Shah’s that I could not begin to separate the two thoughts. All I could hope for was that she would have a change of heart and not inform anyone she saw us here. That she wouldn’t tell her parents what was discussed and revealed.
“Keep Henry’s cloak. If you ever need us, just pick it up, place a note in the pocket, and let it go.” I paused at the doorway, my hand resting against the frame. And, though I did not know exactly why she had those thoughts at dinner, I felt it important to speak them aloud. “I know you do not want this war, that you plan to rule differently when it is your turn. I hope to one day see what Maliha can be with you atop the throne. Good luck, Genevieve.”