Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bellamy
“ S he is depressing,” Malak, one of my soldiers, whined. I groaned, leaning back in my chair and begging Stella for patience. Not that she would provide any, even if she could. The sergeant was quick to capitalize on my growing annoyance, just as everyone was lately. “And I think she tried to kill a soldier that morning. She told him that he would never find happiness and that to cease breathing would be a blessing.”
Lara had proven to be more of a problem than a help, her constant need to darken every situation bringing down morale en masse. Just yesterday, she had made a young demon sob by discussing with him in detail about the way his short life would be better if he simply allowed the deep abyss of sadness to swallow him, sucking him down into a quick end. Depressing did not begin to describe her.
With a final exasperated sigh, I stood from my desk and nodded at Malak before exiting my office. Lara had been placed in a room not far from my own, the upper level hosting my Trusted the only place I deemed safe enough to let her be alone.
We had already found her tying a noose to the rafters once, which she so calmly let us know was not for herself.
The hallways still held a chill, the stone and wood structure built between and within the mountain pass not exactly a sun-filled place. I still remembered when I expanded the base, laughing as the faces of my soldiers went slack at the sight of me cracking and hollowing the mountains with my mind. The four-day nap following had been worth it, if only to impress them. In the winters, they seemed to truly thank me, as the inside of the mountain was far warmer than the outside, where snow and wind barreled into the buildings unforgivingly.
Each soldier I passed offered me a nod, mumbling my title or my rank, whichever they felt more inclined to use. Few addressed me by my first name, something I think Ash would likely hate. She enjoyed a more intimate rule, one that encouraged love over fear. But that was the difference between the hatred the demons felt for me and the kind the fae felt for her. We were both ostracized and secluded, looked at as a weapon and an enemy instead of a future ruler. Where the fear of her could be quenched with kindness and reassurance, the disgust of me could only be fought with a firm hand.
As if the dark turn to my thoughts had summoned her, I found Lara sitting with her feet dangling from an open window, the stone arch seeming to swallow her body—which she had dressed in a yellow blouse and brown trousers, looking like a sunflower saying hello to the spring air. It was far too bright for such a gloomy being.
“Lara, how are you this morning?” I asked as I approached, careful to walk slowly and nonthreateningly. She did not turn, her long black hair that swayed in the wind moving more than her entire body was. She somehow had surpassed even Wrath in her ability to unsettle those around her.
“I feel as if the days are too long, and I wish I did not need to wake up to so much light.” Gods, she was something. Her tone was low, ominous. We had offered her training, quarters, clothing, food, and really anything she could think to ask for. Anything to cheer her up. However, she asked for nothing, enjoying only the act of walking around and bringing down the moods of those around her. I desperately wished I could help her, not just for our own comfort but for hers.
“Well, that is…um, unfortunate.” Rubbing my temples, I groaned at my own stupidity. Unfortunate? Who says that? I walked forward, quickly swinging my legs over the edge and sitting beside her. Leave it to Lara to comfortably sit hundreds of feet in the air, by choice no less. “Listen, Lara, we are so glad to have you here. Your presence has been so…interesting. But I think—”
“That I am upsetting everyone?” She said it with little emotion, sounding detached from herself. I leaned forward slightly, noting the way she stared off blankly at the mountains, her small blue eyes unseeing. I reached my hand closer, ready to catch her if she jumped.
“No, not at all. I think we are simply unused to having someone like you around. Perhaps if you had something to do that you found fun, then you would find new ways to relate to others? I know it is hard. Life has not been fair to you, and you deserve more than forced joy. If there is anything I can do to help you acclimate, let me know.”
If my words registered, she did not show it, instead continuing to stare off. My shoulders fell, the defeat sinking in. Despite knowing she had quite literally murdered innocents for vengeance, I could not help but feel sorry for her.
With the failure now heavy on my chest, I nodded and turned to get up. Before I could, she reached out and grabbed my wrist, tugging me closer. Her eyes were still vacant, but her pursed lips and the deepening of her dark cheeks made me believe that she was feeling more than she usually did.
“I like flowers. They are the only things that die when they should.” Despite the horrid reasoning behind such a hobby, I smiled, eagerly nodding. Lara did not smile back, but her returned nod gave me hope.
“Luckily for you, I am incredibly adept at gardening. Tomorrow, we will pick a spot, okay?” She did not respond, opting to turn around and face the mountains once more. After a moment, she leaned forward and promptly fell off the edge.
I shouted in horror, running to grab her, but my hands had nothing to grab onto, because Lara had shifted. Now hundreds of bubbles littered the air, blowing in the breeze.
She remained too high to harm anyone, but even I could see the melancholy in the beauty of such a thing, a self-imposed isolation.
Progress was progress.
With that done, an even more daunting task lay ahead. It was time to talk to Adbeel about Malcolm. Something that I was working hard to put off, as if that would make it go away. But avoiding the truth did not change it—nothing could.
Pike was normally far too large to walk through when in a hurry, but of course, I was quite admittedly unexcited to be in a hurry, which meant I was prepared to stall in any way I could. Leisurely, almost carelessly, I made my way through the halls and down the many stairs, aiming for the training yard on the ground floor.
The stone steps were sturdy and less than a century old, but I always felt as if they were ancient. Like a worn pair of shoes, they carried a tale only those who walked them would understand. Pike’s story was, to me, lovely. We started as a small military force full of demons who enlisted out of desperation or duty, none interested in doing much more than existing. And then, with an immense amount of effort and a truly heinous first few years, I expanded. Joining our ranks became something to be proud of. One did so not only for honor, but for skill and friendship.
Now, they fought for their realm, and I feared what that would do to them. Those who survived would never be the same, coming home from every battle with new scars and deeper traumas. War did that, altered one irrevocably, hardened them in the worst way.
This would be my first war, but I had seen what it did to Adbeel, to the many others who fought the last time. As much as I hated to admit it, I saw what killing did to me, too. Every time I fought the Golden Guard when trying to save a fae during a meet, all the moments of fury that led to me slaughtering those I believed deserved it, made me something new—something evil.
When I nearly slipped on a concrete step, I realized just how little attention I had been paying. So little attention that I did not notice Ray until I slammed into her as I tried to right myself, sending me stumbling once more and falling down the steps. Her body disappeared into a nearly clear puff of liquid, which soared to the bottom of the stairway and materialized once more, catching me with a loud grunt.
“Hello, Sir, I am so sorry.”
I steadied myself, standing on shaky but strong legs. Ray was dusting off my arms, looking as if she might go off on a tirade if I did not stop her. Like Cyprus, Ray had deep russet skin and warm hazel eyes. They both had thinner lips and strong jaws, the only major difference being that Ray’s brown hair was cut to her chin, the shorter look more convenient according to her.
“It is fine, Ray. Honestly, it was my fault. I am headed to the training yard, so I will get out of your way.” Side-stepping her, I tried to make a hasty exit. Naturally, the little pest did not accept that.
“Well, Sir, I will follow you, then. Perhaps we can further discuss decorations and meal plans?”
Internally groaning, I turned and faced her, offering a tight smile and a stiff nod. Ray was not deterred, instead opting to smile widely and stick closely to my side.
“Please, Ray, you know you do not need to call me Sir.”
Instead of answering right away, she pulled out paper and a pencil from her leather satchel. “Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. Anyways, I have taken the time to survey the soldiers, and they all agree that the chicken and roast, as well as the omelets, are—to be frank—disgusting. But I know you are busy, so I have made a list of other options that I think will be far more favorable!”
Ray had the ability, much like Cyprus, to talk without breathing. It was a talent that seemed to get her whatever she wanted, including a job as my so-called assistant. As we passed through the final wooden door, the two of us stepped out into the bright spring day, the sounds of sparring and running and classes filling the air. Ray’s nose scrunched in disgust as she watched her brother run our way, his shirtless form drenched in sweat.
“Little sister, what could you possibly need in the training yard with those noodle arms?” Every crumb of my restraint was needed to stop me from laughing, especially when Cyprus’s smirk was met with a glare from Ray. However, when she promptly stomped on his foot, twisting her heel into the toe of Cyprus’ boot, I simply could not hold back.
I burst into hysterics when he yelped, grabbing his foot and bouncing up and down. Ray gave him a mischievous smile that was a mirror of his own, but I saw the way her eyes darted to me in pride. The little menace was determined to be useful, even if it was just to get me to laugh. I could not help but smile back, thankful despite my eternal annoyance with her.
“Ray, I actually could use your help with something rather important.” Her tall and lanky form straightened, eyes wide as she faced me. It was rare that I gave her specific tasks, and it seemed she was prepared to take advantage of this instance. “Tomorrow, I am going to be working with Lara to craft a flower garden because she says she enjoys them. But, until then, would you mind keeping her company?”
Cyprus, who had slowly stopped hopping, froze. Before he said anything, I knew that he was angry. These moments were as rare as my need for an assistant, but they were always easy to point out. His nostrils flared, brow pinched together as he stared me down.
“She cannot watch that thing! What if she is hurt, or worse, killed? She is practically still a youngling!” His shouts drew the attention of nearby soldiers, all stopping what they were doing to look at the three of us.
“I am nearly half a century now, you cannot still call me such a thing!” When Ray stepped into Cyprus, nearly pressing her chest to his, I grabbed both of them by the shirt and dragged them away. In moments like these, I found myself thankful to be without siblings. Neither protested, though both looked at the other with quiet anger.
The moment we made it around the corner of the stone pathway that led to the open fields, I released them, lifting my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. I was calm. I was collected. I was the sea, rolling with the tide, unaffected by the boats that sailed across the surface. I moved them, not the other way around.
“You bastard! How dare you embarrass me like that! Sir, I am so very sorry. I did not mean to cause an upset. I promise, I can do the task.” I was the sea. I was the sea. I was the sea.
“No, you most definitely cannot! Lara told me she lost all of her family during the war, just like Horis.” Ray flinched at his mention of another whisp who had brutally lost his family. “They left her to save our already endangered kind, and now she has no one. Do you know how dangerous someone with no one to lose is? Let alone someone who is almost half a millennia old? She is not some pet you can train. She is rabid and dangerous, Ray!”
Fuck the sea.
“Enough!” My voice was commanding, but the tremor that shook the dirt beneath our feet was what called them to attention. They both stood, looking completely without remorse. Luckily for them, I was in a time crunch. “Both of you, go see to Lara. Help her. She is struggling and alone. Like you both, she possesses immense magic, and she can aid us in this war. She needs the will and incentive to do so, which is where you two come in. I do not have the time or the puppets to explain this further.”
Before either could respond, I portaled, my feet landing on the grass across the training field. With far more haste, I searched the crowd for Noe. She was supposed to be coming with me to talk with Adbeel, but I knew that she was probably out here bickering with Lian and Damon.
I found Li first, her instructions to the mortals going fairly well. The group was large, but they all listened carefully as she spoke in broken Behman, watching her with eager eyes. When she used her Air power against them, it was clear there were two distinct reactions: distrust and awe. Luckily, most looked to be a part of the latter group.
“Third position!” Her shout rang, followed by a collective grunt as everyone shifted. One man, who had found himself in first instead, was thrown to the sky on a violent gust of wind.
Oh no.
“Lian!” She turned my way. Only her pointer finger was keeping her Air power focused on the man, who was screaming so loudly that birds were taking to the sky—flapping violently to get away. I groaned as I made my way to her, feeling more like a babysitter than a prince or a general.
“What? He was not listening, and he needed to learn a lesson.” Her wicked smirk did not match up with the innocent tone. She was clearly having more fun than she should be.
“You know better. These are our allies. They deserve respect and the opportunity to grow. Put him down or I will find a new swordmaster.”
Lian’s answering gasp was almost enough to lighten the mood, but the man screamed for help above, every mortal still standing in third position. Clearly they were used to this. “Fine, but I hope you know that you are encouraging weakness, oh benevolent General Ayad.”
I did laugh then, watching as she lifted both palms and slowly lowered them, the man landing lightly on his feet. The poor thing had wet himself.
Stella save us all.
With that, I ruffled Lian’s short blue hair, earning a growl of frustration before I set off looking for Noe once more. A moment later, I found her sparring with Damon, a large group of soldiers watching as they went head-to-head. Though Noe’s magic was superior to Damon’s, the strength and control she possessed was not enough to guarantee her win. My lieutenant general was fast, smart, and ruthless. He wielded two swords against her two whips of shadow, neither so much as stumbling as they attacked again and again.
Noe used one whip to swipe at his ankles, the other latching around his chest when he jumped to avoid the first. He grunted as she tugged, the shadows tightening around him, slowly suffocating him. He reached down and grabbed a small dagger, flicking it low and slicing into her thigh. She screamed out in pain but did not relent. Instead, the shadows spread, engulfing him for a moment, before dissipating to show him suddenly gone. Noe had portaled him.
The small crowd erupted into cheers, though I focused more on watching Noe attempt to pull out the dagger. Rushing to her, I quickly grabbed her arm and tugged her hand away. She would not heal fast enough if she hit a major artery, that much I knew from Ranbir’s rants.
“Get off, Bell, I am fine!” Her eyes darted across the group, and I knew that she was likely nervous of what the others would think of her. With a quick glare at the onlookers, I scooped her into my arms, careful not to jostle her left leg too much. Everyone dispersed, looking at me with terror in their eyes.
“You need to see Ranbir, or at least one of the medics. Especially since your stupid, competitive ass is supposed to be going with me to talk to Adbeel.” Her responding huff and the crossing of her arms made me smile. She had always been a brat.
Since we could not portal, I had to carry her to the infirmary. Blood poured out of her leg, leaving a trail behind us. The walk was nearly silent, the only sounds breaking the monotony being Noe’s small cries of pain when the stairs left me no choice but to adjust.
“I hate you,” she said between clenched teeth as I stepped onto the landing of the second floor.
I laughed, turning a corner too sharply and nearly hitting her legs on the wall. “Yeah, sure you do.” My smile grew wider when she stuck her tongue out at me, acting like a youngling. Strangely enough, I missed getting to be young with her. We had so much more fun back then.
“I am serious. As payback, I am telling Ash about that time you got so drunk that you stripped naked and fell down a hill. She will love that story.”
I smiled, remembering how I swore I would never drink again then woke up the next morning hungover once more.
When she failed to get a rise out of me, she contemplated in silence. It was not until we were a single hallway from the infirmary door that she finally landed on a good enough threat to speak aloud.
“I will tell her about that time you spied on her and Cyprus when they went into her room in that inn. Remember, the one in Elpis?”
Shit.
“She will not care. It is no secret that I am a jealous idiot.” Even I was unconvinced, my shaky voice and heavy breathing telling Noe exactly how terrified I was of that.
Shit, shit, shit.
“We will see. Unless, that is, you do me a favor.” She wiggled her brows, her smile wide despite the clear pain in her thigh that had her eyes watering slightly.
Glaring down at her, I thought for a moment. There were enough secrets between Ash and I, so perhaps telling her would be a good thing. It was no surprise that I had done something that stupid. I was a compilation of faults held together by thin threads of morality. One could not deny that Asher knew of those shortcomings. They were too obvious to ignore.
“You know what,” I said with a smile as I approached the door, “tell her. I could not care less. She loves me enough to forgive me.”
Noe sneered in disgust, leaning away from me as if the love I had for Asher was a sickness she was afraid would contaminate her. With Noe, it would not come as a surprise if she genuinely did believe that.
I kicked the door open, accidentally sending it into the wall with a loud smack. Every medic’s head turned, looking as if they were under attack. Ranbir was the only one who seemed unaffected by our loud entrance, the hand writing something merely pausing. His dark eyes grew wide when he saw Noe in my arms, and soon, everyone was in action. They only had one other patient, who was snoring loudly on a bed in the corner. Which meant that we had our pick of beds.
The uncomfortably sterile room was larger than our dining hall, taking up the majority of the second floor. The rocky floors and wooden walls had been filled with white curtains, white rags, white bowls. Everything was so white it was jarring. Ranbir led me to one of the nearest beds, which had plain white sheets and pillows that matched his all-white ensemble. Surprise, surprise. Maybe Ray was right about redecorating.
“Noe, tell me you did not stab yourself on a dare.” Ranbir’s tone was completely serious, his mouth set in a thin line. A chuckle escaped me, but when he looked my way with disapproval, I quickly tried to mask it with a cough. His eye roll told me he was unimpressed.
Though Ranbir was the youngest of our group, he was definitely the oldest at heart. Lately, it seemed as if he had aged a few centuries. Winona was the one who brought him out of his shell, encouraging him to laugh and joke and enjoy life in ways he felt he could not before.
When Noe first found him, he had been the sole survivor of a mass execution, his parents and two sisters all having been beheaded in front of him. Ranbir had sucked the life out of the eight guards, but he could not heal his family in time. Noe regularly looked for any who might be unhappy, tracking Golden Guards who left post or monitoring the supposed demon attacks, so she arrived not long after the carnage. Ranbir had not hesitated to agree to go with her, whereas most discussed their possible relocation with me during a meeting she set to give them time to think.
Over twenty years had passed before he met Winona, and in that time, he had never truly recovered. But Nona’s family took him in, loving the fae like he was their own. Her sisters and brothers, her parents and grandparents, they all made sure the Healer was the one being healed for once.
With her gone, I feared he would never be whole again. I could see it in his eyes as he tsked at Noe’s wound. He had a hollow-like appearance to him, haunting in its lifelessness. Normally steady hands now shook, his dark brown skin constantly cast in a slightly gray hue.
“Of course not! That was Lian, and I dared her as a joke. Plus, that was years ago.” Her argument did not convince Ranbir, who looked down at her with narrowed eyes. Noe must have seen that emptiness in him too, because she lifted her arms in surrender, offering Ranbir a soft smile. “I egged on Damon during a sparring session.”
When he ripped out the dagger instead of responding, she screamed, forcing me to cover my ears. Ranbir shoved his hand onto the rapidly bleeding wound, muttering something about a femoral artery as he worked on healing her.
“Well, I guess I will be going to the king on my own then.” Noe smacked me, her mouth wide as she pointed at her injured leg. I waved off her pain, walking away as I did. When I heard the bed creak, I ducked, barely avoiding the flying pillow. “Predictable.”
Then another one smacked into the back of my head. A final laugh sounded behind me before I portaled away, holding up my middle finger at the Moon. I arrived at the border of Dunamis, allowed myself one final breath of serenity, then stepped through the wards and portaled again.
My feet met the lush blue carpet in Adbeel’s office, the smell of black tea and honey permeating the air. He was there, as I knew he would be, not so much as flinching at my sudden appearance.
The office was exactly as one might expect from the king of Eoforhild. The walls were white, the floor the same bleached driftwood as the rest of the castle. Paintings of Solei, Malcolm, and Zaib hung on the wall behind me, the other walls decorated with pieces I had done for him when I was younger. His desk was a bright and shiny silver color, two sky blue chairs on the opposite side of him. I moved, taking the one on the right. They were soft—comfortable and roomy in a way that invited demons to speak with him—but still, I felt uneasy.
Adbeel looked up, black eyes meeting mine. He had secured his mahogany curls atop his head, a leather band wrapped around the thick knot. His white tunic was open down to his navel, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His obsidian crown glittered in the light of the sun as it lowered in the sky and shone through the windows to his back.
“Bellamy, what can I do for you today?” A formal tone was to be expected after our fight the last time we spoke. Unfortunately, I did not have the time or the will to dance around the subject. I needed to get this over with, or I would back out.
“I saw Malcolm.”
Adbeel’s pencil fell from his hand, clattering to the desk before rolling off the edge. He did not move to get it, instead staring at me with his hand frozen midair. We stayed that way, silent and unblinking, for what felt like hours. Waves could be heard in the distance, slamming against the side of the cliff that the castle was built upon.
Finally, he spoke.
“I apologize, but I think I misheard you. What did you just say?” The question came out as a raspy whisper, but his eyes were ablaze as they scrutinized me.
With a final deep breath, I placed my joined hands on the desk in front of me and repeated myself. “I saw Malcolm. I nearly killed Xavier Mounbetton during the battle in Grishel, but he was rescued by the traitor Noe has been searching for. It was Malcolm. He looked at me when I called his name, smiling like he was in on some sort of joke that I was not. It was him. Your son is alive.”
Sadly, Adbeel did exactly as I guessed he would.
“Tell me the truth. What is it you are playing at?” The demanding words were laced with his magic, the Honey Tongue ability pressing into my mental shields and trying to force me to submit.
I stood, simultaneously letting that shield of black fire that Adbeel himself had taught me to conjure fall. His magic enveloped me, tugging on my will and encouraging me to speak the truth.
While I knew that the truth was exactly as I had said, I wanted to make sure he understood something first. “I have been around a far more formidable creature, My King. Her magic is something we could only dream of, the likes of which could crumble the world.”
Adbeel followed me, standing only an inch or so shorter. As it was, we were nearly eye-to-eye, squaring off for no reason other than grief and disbelief. “She is a disease, one that will eat away at your soul until you are nothing. Whatever magic those filthy fae put into her is abhorrent, more dangerous than that which derives from the Underworld. And whatever spell she has put you under for you to so blatantly lie to me proves that!” His face grew red, deepening his tan skin.
“This is not about Ash, but while we are on the topic, I know how dangerous she is. Asher is my equal in every way, we are both indescribably strong, and that makes us each a different version of the same problem. If she is an abomination, then so am I. Now, instead of hurling insults, would you like to discuss your son coming back from the grave? Or should I leave?”
Neither of us moved, our faces a mere foot away from one another.
“You are mistaken; my son is dead. You may go.” His words were laced with venom, spit from between clenched teeth. He was furious, but I was intimately aware of that type of fury, and I would not bow down to it.
“Did you ever see a body? Had anyone ever found him or been told he was dead? The fae never said anything other than sending you Zaib’s—”
“Stop!” Magic erupted from him, sending me careening back as light blinded me. I hit the wall that held the portraits so hard they rattled, the one of Malcolm that sat in the center falling and striking my head. Despite the pain, I dove to the side, catching the enormous piece before it could be damaged.
Adbeel portaled to my side, panic in his wide eyes. I went to reassure him, to say that it had not been ruined, but Adbeel was faster. He took the painting, lightly tossed it to the side, and grabbed my shoulders. With a firm hand, he began inspecting the gash on my forehead, which was leaking blood down my temple.
“That was inexcusable. I should never lay a hand on you, let alone use my magic to harm you. I am so, so sorry.” His pleading made me pause my attempt to stand. I looked at him, his sullen and worried expression so odd when paired with the problem at hand.
“It is fine. I am fine.” I stood, wiping at the blood with my sleeve and staining the cream shirt crimson. He watched me, his eyes glassy. Despite how much I wished I could help him, there was no changing this situation in a way that would do so.
“Did he look…okay?” Adbeel asked, clearing his throat and walking over to the blue chairs—sitting in the one on the left. I followed, slightly dizzy, and sat in the other. What Adbeel was not asking was obvious—did he seem as if he were there against his will?
“He appeared to be healthy. Honestly, Adbeel, he seemed more than willing to be there. There was a strange feel to the air around him—a wicked and cruel chill that made me uneasy.” Though he did not let the tears fall, the king had a troubled look to him, face grim and devoid of the color that signaled life. The sort of expression that I imagined only a father facing betrayal could conjure.
“Zaib used to argue with him about the fae. She would claim that they deserved a chance at peace, just as the demons did. Malcolm disagreed vehemently. His view was much like my own, destroy and eradicate them all before the war got out of hand.” He paused, unease momentarily taking over his face as he admitted to a rather hateful and bigoted way of thinking. “I just cannot imagine why he would want to help them.”
With a shake of my head, I tried to find the words to express what I thought. To explain that opportunities offered by an enemy were still opportunities. That to hold a broken crown and sit atop a bloody throne was just as pleasing to some as it was revolting to others. But how could I say something like that to a father who had grieved for centuries? To a father who had said goodbye, only to be forced to now raise his sword against his dead son?
“Do you think she is alive, too?” The broken and raspy question sounded more like an attempt at begging, as if he were asking the universe to let her still be breathing. Which was not possible seeing as Adbeel had received pieces of her.
It was an even more difficult question—one I could not properly answer without admitting that I had witnessed her death in the waters of a lake. That I had been shown visions of her dead body and witnessed what my mother would do after. Instead, I shook my head.
A few tears fell then, breaking through his will and running down his cheeks like water sneaking through a cracked dam. I feared what would happen when the dam broke and all of those built-up emotions came crashing through. Who would Adbeel be after?
“You remind me so much of her, you know.”
With a scoff, I settled into the chair, allowing my head to lean back and my eyes to fall closed. “I believe that some might consider that an insult to her memory, so I would refrain from saying such a thing in public.”
“You have this innate desire to dream, just like she did. I wonder what you could create, what you could accomplish, if given the chance.” I remained silent, contemplating what he said. I had never seen myself that way, someone who could finish what Zaib started. She was a beautiful soul based on the stories I had heard. No one would ever tell stories like that about me. “You thought I would be more concerned about the painting than you. Why?”
Laughing, I opened my eyes and looked at the king, his gaze on me. Though we were both relaxed against our chairs, the conversation was anything but tranquil.
“Interesting change of subject.” He did not share in my amusement, staring at me with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Clearing my throat, I tried to say aloud what I had always believed in my heart, even if I knew it did not apply to my own situation. “I guess I know how much those three portraits mean to you. No matter what your son did or does, he is still your blood. That portrait holds thousands of memories. Seeing it ruined would be devastating, I imagine.”
His frown deepened, creasing his face. I readjusted, feeling the need to move so the discomfort could not settle within me.
“I do not love Malcolm more than you, Bell. You are not my blood, but you are not any less my family than he was—is. That painting is an object. Irreplaceable in some ways, but infinitely less precious than you are.” He stared, likely waiting for me to acknowledge his words, but how could I? It was far from true. I was no more precious than a lump of rock. “It will be you who sits atop the throne of Eoforhild one day.”
I was not sure how one was supposed to act when finding out that their son had come back from the grave. However, there was not a single scenario in which I imagined the conversation turning to me and my future rule. I was not deserving of that throne, no matter how hard I tried to be.
“I know that is your plan, but I do not particularly desire to rule.” Not alone, that was.
“That is exactly why you are the best option, why you will do so well. It is why you deserve it.”
Hearing him say that brought back the memories of our last argument, the one in which he said I deserved nothing. Strange how I now agreed with the statement.
“We need to meet with the war council, Adbeel. Knowing that Malcolm is the one aiding the fae changes things. I have heard the stories of his magic, just as you are personally aware of his strength. I know this must be a lot to process, and I cannot begin to imagine what you are feeling, but taking an offensive approach has become a priority if we are going to survive this.” While it had to be said, I could not prevent the guilt from consuming me at the way he flinched.
He looked more than simply hurt or scared. He looked tired. Broken.
“Okay. Schedule a meeting, and I will come.” With that, he stood, making his way to the double doors behind us. I followed, so stunned by his concession that I had no words. Together, we exited his office, heading down the hallway towards his chambers. Did he want me to follow him? Was I being dense? “And after that, I want to meet my future queen.”
The request stopped me in my tracks, my heart racing. I knew what he meant, yet still, I feigned ignorance. “Who might that be?”
Adbeel stopped too, his eyes red from the tears shed but clearer than they had been mere minutes ago. “Oh, please. You know exactly who I mean. The reason I tried so hard to convince you to marry Revanche was not just for the strength of unity, but also because I am ready to get this fucking crown off my head. I want to move on. I want to know peace in this realm before my soul returns to the Above—before I reunite with my Solei.”
Briefly, we both stood still, absorbing what he had said. Then, without much thought, I gave the only reassurance I knew would make a difference. “She would be proud—they both would be.”
His sardonic laugh echoed through the hallway, and I quickly looked around to make sure no one was listening in. Unfazed by the possibility of eavesdroppers, Adbeel walked up to one of my paintings. The poor male had far too many to know what to do with. There were years in which I did nothing but train, eat, sleep, and paint.
This one was of The Royal City, specifically focused on the very castle we now stood in. The colors were off, duller than the real thing.
“I do not know what is worse: a dead son or a traitorous one.” There was a bite to his tone, one that hinted at whatever rage was simmering within him. The king would have much to ponder, even more to accept.
“At least a traitor still breathes, still has a chance to repent.” That earned me another full and sarcastic laugh, which I responded to with an eye roll as I closed the space between us. We both looked at the painting, which I now realized had shaky line work, while we spoke.
“And what does your fae princess think of the vengeance I took? Does she think repentance is in the cards for me?” Even without looking in my direction, it seemed Adbeel had correctly read the stiffening of my back and the squaring of my shoulders. I radiated tension, and he understood that for what it was. “I believe telling your lover that the male who raised you killed her parents is pretty important.”
“Maybe you should be the one to tell her, to explain.” A quick glance to my side showed that Adbeel was now looking at me unamusedly. “Fine. Before Pino died, he told me that you had to be there when I told Asher the truth. He said it was the only way without loss. It is hard to explain, but I have to wait. After the council, we can all three talk, I promise.”
There was far too much judgment in those black eyes, but he eventually nodded, turning to walk away with a wave. I could not help the small smile that lifted the corners of my mouth, though it was more grim than joyous. If only he knew.
“Adbeel?” I asked, the questioning tone causing him to look back. “She is going to change everything. Asher is the answer.”