Chapter Twenty-Seven
Asher
“ P rincess, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” King Trint said, his lips meeting the top of my hand in a lingering kiss. My smile was tight, a barely there show of gratitude.
He, unlike most of the other rulers I had met in my life, did not sport the teal and black of his kingdom’s colors. Instead, the young king wore a loose cream tunic, the sleeves rolled up to expose his dark brown forearms. The olive-colored trousers were not as loose but still did not fit in the same way most males wore them. His feet were bare, as if he could care little about the cold.
Trint’s hair was the only thing that looked meticulously put together. There had to be at least four dozen thick twists. Similar to braids, but without being weaved together, the chest-length groupings of black strands were perfectly positioned.
His face was round, just as his hazel eyes were, and his body showcased the active way in which he spent his time. Whether that be on the battlefield, in a training yard, or atop a bed was none of my business. Though his reputation leaned mostly towards the last option.
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty. I am eternally grateful for your willingness to meet with me on such short notice.” My curtsy was low, and I heard Henry shouting into his mind to not bend too far or my dress might show more skin than planned. I snorted, immediately trying to compose myself as I stood again.
Brows raised so high they threatened to reach his hairline, Trint stared openly at me, though he did not ogle in the way most males—men—might. Instead, he measured me as if I were an enemy he was preparing to battle.
Perhaps I was.
I stood on the top stair of his dais, the king’s crown lazily tossed to the side of his teal throne. Trint had allowed his castle to retain its gray color, the blocks of stone not painted over to match the teal and black sigil that graced the wall behind him.
It was of a pair of black hands cupped together, a small teal book at the center. The book of gods, Henry had explained. This kingdom was believed to be blessed by the gods, and so they loved those gods above all else.
“How could I resist a fae, let alone a fae princess, that had so graciously disposed of an evil in my kingdom? I must admit that I was beginning to believe your kind to be myths, thinking perhaps the mortals trading supplies were prone to gossipping and lying. You do look eerily similar to us inferiors, after all.” That raspy and quick-moving accent made even his well-versed knowledge of the common tongue sound muffled, but still, I heard and understood his words.
I startled, stepping back and nearly losing my balance. Henry was there, catching my back with a firm hand. My mind was reeling at the casually given statement, too baffled to even thank Henry for his quick thinking or attempt to capitalize on our act of kindness.
“What do you mean? Betovere contacted you all two years ago to offer my hand in marriage in exchange for aid in the coming war.” If his words had left me confused, mine had left him completely bewildered. His large eyes fell slightly closed, squinting at me as if my face held answers to the questions he had not asked.
“Princess Asher, I apologize for my brashness, but I have never heard from any of your kind in the entirety of my life—nor had any of my recent ancestors. I believe if I were offered your hand I would remember, especially seeing as the stupidity it would have taken to say no would be forever branded into my brain.”
Farai stifled a laugh, but I could not think beyond my racing confusion. This was impossible. Mia and Xavier had contacted all but Behman, who had a queen with no sons. They told me so. Each but Maliha had said no, too terrified of the demons to take a stand.
But no. Of course that was not true. Because, while the mortals were fearful of the rumors they heard regarding the Demon Realm, they had not directly been affected by the demons. So why lie? Why not just admit they had only asked King Lawrence?
Then it hit me.
They wanted to remind me of the threat of the demons. They wanted me angry and vengeful—prepared to kill any that got in the way of doing what I thought was right. And I believed them.
“I must be confused, I apologize. Regardless, I am so happy to meet you, King Trint.”
He nodded, still looking at me with suspicious eyes. My magic begged to be set free—to decipher what was brewing in that mortal mind.
“Yes, we are eager to discuss something of great importance,” Henry added, flashing a smile as bright as his Sun magic before bowing low. Trint shifted on his throne, clearing his throat in the process. Nothing could hide the heat in his eyes, nor could I miss the way his hand moved to his lap.
Well, it seemed I had not needed to wear such scandalous clothing after all.
Farai and Wrath waited at the bottom of the dais, neither bowing nor speaking. I wanted to go to them, maintain a united front that proved us to be formidable rather than weak. Instead, I smiled openly at the king, waiting.
“Unless the thing of great importance is having both of you in my bed, then I fear I have no interest. But please, do stay for dessert.” With that, he stood, offering me his arm and leading me down the dais when I took it—his bare feet smacking against the stone floors.
Or maybe the clothing did have some use.
You could offer yourself as dessert.
Henry stumbled behind us, my words clearly taking him by surprise. He recovered quickly, the sound of him bouncing down the steps loud at our backs.
You know what, I will.
Before I had the chance to laugh or call his bluff, Henry was tugging my arm, pulling me out of King Trint’s grasp and weaving his own arm into the mortal’s. I shook my head, smiling over at Farai who watched on in astonishment with his mouth open and stare unblinking.
Wrath pranced over to me, proudly the size of a domesticated dog. We had agreed upon him coming, deciding that having an otherworldly creature with us would further cement our claims. Though Trint had looked at him with eyes far more wary than impressed when we first arrived.
Now, Trint’s eyes were bouncing between Henry, who chatted animatedly with him, and me. Farai placed his arm around my shoulders, Wrath sticking to my heels. We followed the pair ahead, surrounded on all sides by guards in black and teal uniforms—the thick fabric looking so comfortable that I found myself jealous as I shivered beneath my cloak.
Exiting the throne room, we walked down a long stone hall with doors regularly popping up on either side, not stopping until we reached a set of spiraling stairs. Fear of tripping came over me because was I really expected to scale slippery winding rock like this? Henry did not hesitate to keep pace with Trint, leaning in to whisper something in his ear that made the young king throw his head back in a laugh.
Stupid demon.
“Fair, I am going to need you to hold onto me. Tightly.”
Farai moved his arm from my shoulders to my waist, practically hauling me up the daunting steps. Wrath stayed behind us, likely prepared to catch me should I fall like an idiot.
Luck was on my side, though. We made it to the top of the stairs relatively quickly, my heeled shoes clicking on the landing as Farai released me. There was nothing that would be worth this annoyance and pain—nothing.
Two more hallways of stone decorated with teal and black later, and we stopped at a pair of double doors, the dark wood and brass knobs giving nothing away. The guard at the head of our party pushed the doors open, revealing an enormous set of chambers.
The king’s quarters no doubt.
Where Trint’s appearance lacked the love for one’s kingdom that most monarchs possessed, his chambers were a different story.
Black furniture sat ceremoniously around the first room, teal rugs and drapes and accessories dutifully placed. This seemed to be a seating room, though Trint continued right past it, heading for an open archway beyond, his arm tightly around Henry’s. Farai, Wrath, and I maintained a close distance from them, passing through the archway to find a long black dining table and matching chairs, both accented with teal.
Gods, he really meant it when he asked us to join him in his bed.
Henry’s shouted thoughts echoed into my head, forcing me to choke back a cackle.
Trint gestured for Henry to take the seat to the left of the head, which he accepted with a smile. The king beamed, grabbing the back of the chair to the right of the head and facing me expectantly. I tried to mimic the flirtatious gaze Henry had used but imagined I looked more strained and impatient than sultry.
When we were all seated, Farai having chosen the chair beside me and Wrath shrinking slightly to curl up below me, conversation began.
“Listen, we understand why you are hesitant to help us. Gandry is peaceful and prosperous, and aiding a realm you have been told to fear is likely not a great way to gain support.” Henry wasted no time letting the king process his words, aiming straight for the soft spot we all knew he had—the weakness no one but he could be blamed for. “And you do need the support, desperately.”
Trint glared in response, snapping over towards a teal-clad servant who held a tray full of what I assumed was vanilla custard. The young male’s skin was nearly as dark as Trint’s, his eyes far smaller and build lankier. He seemed nervous though he walked with poise, softly setting a black bowl in front of each of us.
Farai did not think twice, immediately digging into the dessert. Henry looked to me, nodding. That was my cue.
“Your people fear your lack of duty to your gods. They think you disobedient and sinful, lacking the holy wisdom.” Now, Trint was visibly angry, his fists clenched atop the table and body shaking. “Parties and mead and sex do not particularly scream devout ruler, do they?”
Trint turned on me, his eyes devoid of the previous lust. No, this was the real king. The one who was desperate to keep his crown—as he should be. Trint was not a bad ruler per se. He cared about his kingdom enough to ensure it still thrived, but not enough to give up what brought him joy. I did not fault him that. No, I envied him it.
“What business do you have discussing my faults, Princess Asher? Are you not a runaway child planning to take mommy and daddy’s throne? Is that not why you want my armies?” I reared back, so surprised by his spot-on guess that I briefly lost my train of thought. With a swipe at my ankle, Wrath brought me back to my senses. “Did you really think you could kill one creature and I would give you every sword in my kingdom? Did you think insults would further encourage me to do so?”
“I think we can both get what we want, Your Majesty. You need proof of your holiness, and I need soldiers.”
Henry nodded from across the table, and then I entered Trint’s mind, the barriers blocking me nonexistent. With delicate touches, I grazed his consciousness, watching in real time as he realized something was wrong.
Well, Trint, you are currently looking at the closest thing to a god you will likely ever see.
The king yelped, pressing his palms against his ears and leaning back so far in his chair that it toppled backwards. Wrath laughed below me, a menacing sound that only made the fear in Trint’s eyes morph into terror. He scrambled up, using the chair like a shield as he stared at me.
“Guards, get them! Get her! She is a witch! A demon!” He then muttered in what I assumed was the language of Gandry, likely translating his orders. They moved immediately, closing in on us with panicked expressions. “Kill her!”
When the first guard touched me, grabbing my neck as he unsheathed his sword, I stilled. Suddenly, it was Sterling’s hand there, choking me, threatening me. I was vulnerable and weak again—I was nothing.
Farai drew a dagger, Henry sitting up straight but not arming himself. Wrath did not stir from below me. Because to them, I was not nothing. I was everything.
I recalled a time when Xavier once said that violence was the answer when gentleness was questioned.
So, with that thought fresh in my mind, I bent down, grabbed one of my heeled shoes off, and swung it into the eye of the guard holding me. He screamed, instincts driving him to release me in favor of dislodging the heel. I yanked the shoe out, stabbing him two more times in the shoulder for good measure. When it became stuck, I turned to face Trint.
Another guard ran to the screaming and injured man, pulling out all seven inches of the heel and slowly helping him to the ground, her arms struggling to bear the weight of his body. Trint watched with what could only be described as dread.
The female guard turned towards me, the horror etched on her face turning into rage. She grabbed her sword, screaming as she swung. I used this as my final chance to show Trint where my value lay.
Stop.
She froze, the sword only raised about a third of the way. Her blue eyes were wide, tan skin highlighting them beautifully. She had far more muscle than the servant, which made sense—seeing as she likely trained daily whereas he was relegated to cleanup duty.
Turn to your king and repeat after me.
She did as she was told.
A goddess walks among us, prepared to fight a wicked enemy. She is a blessing, proof that the gods shine down upon our great king. Asher Daniox is faith incarnate.
She repeated me out loud, Trint’s eyes nearly popping from their sockets. The wariness was still there, but his obvious interest still won out. Just for the fun of it, I added one last thing.
“She is beautiful and wonderful and the greatest thing to happen to Alemthian since the creation of bread.” The female’s voice was heavily accented, making it all the more obvious that she was not normally able to speak the common tongue, her eyes staring into her king’s with no emotion.
Henry burst into laughter, trying to speak between chuckles. “Of course you would go off script.”
I smirked, flicking back my hair, which was now down to my hips. Unlike Henry, I was not brave enough to cut it myself yet. The normally silky curls were too often becoming tangled, parts near the base of my neck regularly needing violent brushing sessions. It would have to be soon.
Farai was shaking, his eyes flicking from me to the bloody guard. With a sigh, I ordered the female guard and the other seven nearby to help the male get to whatever medical professional they had. All nine were soon gone, leaving just our group and Trint at the table. Explaining myself to Farai—and apologizing—would have to wait.
“I can help you with your predicament, King Trint.” Focus on the here, the now, the plan. Focus on the rage.
“You killed one of my guards with a shoe, and you expect me to believe you can help?” The question was more of a panicked whine, but he sat back down, his body shaking. I remained calm, straightening my skirts. Blood now stained the teal fabric.
“He will live. And he started it. Well, you started it.” Trint’s jaw went slack, his hands opening as if to ask “how?” Despite that, I looked to Henry. “Go get Ranbir and have him try to save the eye.”
Henry nodded, winking at Trint before disappearing in a burst of light. The king nearly fell back in his chair again, but I grabbed onto his flailing hand just in time. Strange, he did not seem to be one that would panic this way.
“Are you ill?” Though my question was serious, Wrath burst into laughter, crawling out from under my chair and leaping into my lap. Trint’s face took on a sickly pallor, his body swaying slightly. He ripped his hand from my grip as if I had burned him. Odd how he had gone from propositioning me to trying to have me killed.
“You tried to kill a man with a shoe!”
I laughed, my hand reaching up to scratch Wrath’s neck, the dalistori looking at Trint as if he wanted to take a bite from him. Farai was nervous. I could sense it radiating from him, but I had no time to defend myself. He knew what I did at public sentencings—he knew who I was.
“Yes, well, it seems those shoes came in handy after all.” It must have been my shrug that sent him over the edge of sanity, because the once flirtatious and calm demeanor turned into one of unmanageable fear. He stood once more, rushing to the other side of the table and grabbing a dinner knife.
“You are insane! You spoke to me in my mind and made my guard speak against her will! You are a monster!” When he pointed the black knife at me, I rolled my eyes, grabbing my spoon and scooping up a bite of custard.
“Wow, my compliments to the chef. This is delicious.” Speaking with a mouthful of custard likely did not make me seem any more sane.
“An absolute lunatic,” Trint mumbled in astonishment.
Briefly, I wondered how long it would take to kill someone with a spoon. I assessed the silverware, the light from the wall sconces bouncing off the dark edges. With Farai beside me, it was difficult not to remember how abhorrent I had once felt murder was.
“You should reconsider how you speak about my queen,” Wrath warned, his yellow eyes burning holes into the mortal’s face. He jumped onto the table, leaving small gray hairs all over my dress. Though the blood had already ruined it, I still huffed in annoyance.
Looking up, I found a slowly growing Wrath nearly nose to nose with a shaking Trint.
“I expected you to be…less skittish. Did you not already know what I could do?” When Trint did not respond, still visibly horrified as Wrath surpassed the height of a small youngling, I grabbed the dalistori’s tail. He yelped, turning on me with wide, bewildered eyes. “Oh, please. Do not be dramatic. Sit down before he pees all over himself.”
Wrath turned back to King Trint, hissing once more. Then he leapt off the table and walked away, likely searching for a bed to claim. Farai stayed put, his breathing heavy.
I know I probably scared you. We will talk later. For now, we have to focus.
His nod was small, nearly imperceptible, but after a long and deep breath, he reached over and grabbed my clean hand. My own sigh of relief was loud, just like the voices in my mind that told me he would never forgive the sins I have committed—nor would he love me when he knew I had stopped being sorry for them.
“So, how many soldiers will you be offering?” Trint’s eyes were on the open archway that Wrath had exited through, his thoughts a mixture of curiosity and debilitating terror.
“What is it?” he asked instead of answering, not so much as looking my way.
“He is a dalistori—a creature that hails from the Underworld.” Farai’s hands tightened on my own, a squeeze likely meant to remind me that I was to be selling us as worthy allies who can encourage his subjects to accept him as king and not scaring him. But he knew what I was. The goal was not to fool him but to fool his people.
“Is that where you come from?” His voice was suddenly monotone, as if he had been stripped of all feeling. I would not be surprised. Terror had the ability to drain one of all things good—to morph them into something to be feared instead. I peeked into his head, then, and was swept away in the horror of the moment from his point of view. It reminded me of doing this very thing with Shah only weeks ago.
The difference between the two rulers’ reactions was glaring. Then again, that was how it was in this world. Women suffer and climb and claw their way through merciless existences, just as the Behamn queen had. Trint, though, had always known he would be king—had never been forced to fight for that right or this rule or the luxury of it all. His fear showed that. Shah had suffered enough to not balk at the next monster that strode her way. Trint did not understand such things.
“Some might say so.” This time, Farai kicked me under the table, the side of his boot hitting my calf hard enough to draw a gasp from my lips. I glared over at him, willing him to understand. “What, should I lie?”
The Shifter groaned, reaching his hand up to his face and roughly rubbing at his dual-toned skin. Looking back to the king, I saw he had relaxed slightly, those broad shoulders squaring once more. I felt the shift in his mood, unable to resist looking into that head of his again.
So it seems the psychopath still respects honesty to some extent. Which is more than I can say about all the many gossips and liars surrounding me who like to label and judge me too. Perhaps all in power must face the fact that no one truly knows who they are.
Well, well, the king seemed to think himself more similar to the monster before him than he liked to admit.
“What do you say?” The question took me by surprise, because when had anyone ever thought to ask me such a thing? How did I answer that? The truth was likely too dark, too damning. But to lie, to hide the fact that I am more dangerous than even the dalistori, would not do me any favors either.
Eventually, I settled on something in between. “I say that I can be whatever you need me to be in order to gain your support.”
The king did not smile, did not so much as blink. He stared and stared at me, his gaze unsettling in its intensity. Though he was afraid, Trint was also smart. The king was weighing his options, assessing the pros and cons. He was deciding.
“I did not know.”
The words once more caught me off-guard. The monarch had not answered a single question I asked, and yet I knew my only choice was to follow his lead. To placate him.
“Did not know what?”
“That you could control minds. We had heard rumors that you were dangerous, that you had some unheard of power, but we have only ever gotten pieces of stories. Primarily, we were told that you were deadly but leashed, that you presented no danger because your parents made sure you never harmed anyone. I was far more intrigued than scared, though I know now that I was wrong.”
Before I could answer, a pencil appeared above the table, falling right in the center with a loud clatter. Trint jumped but did not scream, his eyes wide as he watched me grab the object. I undid the string, unrolling the paper from around the pencil and reading it.
A shoe, huh? Would it be insensitive of me to say that I am hard just imagining it?
A loud laugh slipped from my lips before I could purse them closed, the two males looking at me as if I were a raving lunatic. And, in the spirit of honesty, I was.
So, King Trint, when will I be making my grand debut as a goddess in the flesh to your people? I must know so I can plan what I will wear. You only get to make a first impression once, after all. I would not want them to think me a tasteless god.
The king flinched at the sound of my voice in his mind, still unsettled by my ability. Which was fair, seeing as it had been mere minutes since he discovered I could do such a thing. Now that I was there in his mind, I could hear the thoughts he was too ashamed to admit, the ones that burrowed and festered like a parasite.
King Trint was considering my offer.
I smiled, finishing off my custard as he watched warily. Farai remained silent at my side, a wall of building animosity. I squeezed his hand, reassuring both of us.
Trint’s mind had been made long before the words left his mouth, but I still found myself giddy as he spoke.
“Fine, Princess Asher, you have a deal. Prove to me that you can sway my people, and Gandry will fight on your side of this war.” Every ounce of my will was not enough to stop me from letting out a soft cheer, my smile lifting my cheeks so high they hurt. “But if you harm another one of my people, then the deal is off. And I need to know more about this deal with Maliha. Their army is nearly double the size of ours.”
I nodded, standing up and reaching my hand out. King Trint looked at me as if I were insane, his mouth lifted on one side in a disgusted sneer. Nothing I had not experienced from the fae.
“So, where and when will I make my debut? Like I said, I would not want to look heinous.” Farai stood beside me, our hands still interlocked. Wrath pranced to my side, looking far too smug. I had a feeling I would soon be dealing with a disaster.
“Have you ever seen a temple at sunset?”