Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“It is—”
A matter of honor.
The words clang through my mind, poised on the tip of my tongue. But the ancient creature across from me raises her papery brow, correcting my unspoken argument.
“—a matter of life and death,” she spits.
That word—death—is a poison dart to the heart. Because she’s right, gods curse it. Everything around us is dying.
And it’s all my fault.
I walk to the nearest window, clasping my hands behind my back to keep from balling them into fists. Outside, our three suns beam down on my capital city. Gleaming pearlescent buildings loom just below the castle, reflecting the rosy, golden, and azure light back at me.
It is beautiful.
If you’re free to notice such things.
“I did as I was bid,” I grunt back at my advisor, feeling more like a petulant pip than a king. “It did not work.”
Flashes of memory soar through my mind, each more flinch-inducing than the last.
Nothing worked. The prayers. The rituals. Spells and pleas and sacrifices; countless nights spent rutting prospects I loathed.
Still, we have no heir. No mates.
No hope.
Gods. This old madwoman may have a point.
“You know this is the way of the stars, Zolkan,” Mortana goes on. “You cannot swim against the tide of destiny. Just as your father and brother could not fight theirs.”
Fucking hells.
Can I execute someone for being correct?
I never have, but the more this female spills vicious truths onto the stone table between us, the more I wish I hadn’t promised to uphold the highest code of honor.
My vows chafe. Like waking up each day and being forced to wear clothing three sizes too tight. Or armor so loose it bruises my body more than it protects my life.
Either way, I cannot move. I’m a prisoner, here. And this crown? It’s more like a collar. Choking tighter each second. Reminding me of bitter facts with each increment.
Nothing else has worked.
There are no omegas.
We have no offspring.
No future.
Nothing.
Except for me… and this.
I ignore the prick of my fangs as I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
Mortana hums her approval. A cutting smile curls her withered, gray mouth. “Very good. Can I also assume you’ll do the honorable thing and participate with an open mind, sire?”
The honorific is anything but. Really, it’s more of an insult, given I haven’t been able to sire even one pip. And this crone knows that.
It’s regrettable that the whole execution scenario isn’t a viable option.
At this point, I might volunteer myself.
I glance out the window once more. It faces north, but I wish it faced on the south side of the mountain, where our soldiers reside.
Where I once resided.
It’s the last part of the warm season—as evidenced by the lilac sky and the high position of our planet’s smallest sun. I lock my expression in place to conceal my longing.
The training fields will be teeming today, I think wistfully. Plenty of bored, unbound cadets taking their frustrations into the ring just to feel something.
Orbits ago, I would have been one of them.
My shoulders snap back as I throw off the memories, striding for the door. Barking my forced agreement with one final demand.
“Send Norabi,” I decide, then think better of it, correcting, “And Rask. Tell them to Select a strong one.”
It won’t matter.
I break everything, in the end.