Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
ASTER
T he younger princes shuffled into the room, their eyes lingering on me before they met King Lucif’s stern glare. The eldest, who bore a striking resemblance to his father, seemed to hold himself a bit taller but still looked like a fish jumping out of water in the worst way.
I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for these siblings. They looked as lost as I had when I first left home to learn about who I was. About what I could do.
King Lucif gestured toward the princes. “These are my sons: Eamon, Ayden, and Riordan.” Lucif turned his sneer to me. “But I have my suspicions that you already knew that, given the weight of your accusations.”
Eamon, the eldest, stepped forward. “It would be wise to hold your tongue with such unsubstantiated facts, Prince Aster. My brothers and I have not done anything wrong.”
I straightened my posture, shoulders pressed against the back of the seat. “Oddly enough, Eamon, I hadn’t yet insinuated any of you had. I merely came with my own set of questions. The very questions your father refused to answer by other means.”
Eamon’s smile was sinister, his nose twisting toward Morgana at my side. He gave her a once-over before asking, “Who is the lost pup then? Are you so afraid to fight your own battles that you must invite unwelcome guests?”
“Prince Eamon,” Erynna said without turning her head to look up at him. “We all know not one of us is welcome in this room. Including you and your brothers.”
In my periphery, I saw the queen stiffen and mumble beneath her breath. I did everything I could to stop from smirking, but I doubted it came across properly. As I opened my mouth, I was interrupted—not by the king, nor by my sister.
“Now, Your Highness,” Morgana said with the softest voice I’d ever heard. It was polite—proper and pompous in the worst of ways. She was the embodiment of regal obedience based on the first few words she’d said since sitting down. “Forgive me for my intrusion, but it is not my betrothed’s intention to accuse you or your brothers of such nuanced crimes.”
“Crimes?” Eamon repeated beneath his breath, his smile twitching. He leaned forward, hands rested over the intricate, filigree frame of the chair. Erynna was never good at hiding her distaste—for she leaned as far on the opposite armrest as her body would allow her. “Now it is you who needs to watch your mouth, pup.” Eamon addressed me again. “Have the prudish priests and priestesses of Verdantis forgotten how to keep your guard dogs from barking?”
The room grew quiet, and my eyes had turned into slits. Lucif sipped at his drink loudly, but he made no move to silence his brats. I opened my mouth, but again, Morgana talked with haste.
“Let us get one thing straight, Prince Eamon… that is your name, isn’t it?” she asked. When his eyes widened at the mere insinuation that she did not know who he was, she laughed breathlessly. “Forgive me. You see, Avendatis has such a rich history of… of… losing children to the Blood Sisters. You’ll have to forgive me.”
Lucifina gasped. “Lady Tillington?—”
The queen’s words were silenced in an instant as Morgana rested her hands on the table, flat and firm. “I do not intend to cause insult to injury, Your Majesties, Your Highnesses. Truly, you have been nothing if not hospitable.” Morgana turned her chin up, angled right at Prince Eamon as if they were the only two people in the room. “But the crown prince has dire times eating away his shores. And, by extension, they will eat away at your mountains. Your blood magic will not go far if it is consumed by magic so dark it destroys even the strongest-willed kings.”
My gaze flicked to Erynna. She was staring at Morgana with this wide-eyed smile, her crimson eyes glittering with hope. Weeks of studying, and she recited their customs as if they’d studied it for years.
Who would have guessed what wine could do when paired with mind-numbing historical text. And, by the look of Eamon’s face, he hadn’t read enough books to truly grasp what Morgana was implying. Was he truly so naive?
“I believe His Greatness was going to ask you about a… well, an object of sorts. Have you or your brothers happened to stumble across anything from Vespera’s shores?”
I shifted in my seat, all but yearning to lean over the edge of the table with a fist balled beneath my chin as I grinned stupidly at them. But I remained the picture of neutrality. They were the picture of chaos.
The middle son—Ayden, if I recalled correctly—took a step forward and snarled at Morgana. “I thought Verdantis women didn’t know how to fend for themselves. You’ve got too big of a bark for your own good.”
I tired of the dog comparisons. I sighed, waving my hand at the young princeling. “Prince Eamon, Prince Ayden, while I applaud the theatrics, the question is accurate and simple. Have you purchased any artifact that was rumored to originate from the shores of Vespera as of late? Stolen it? Found it in the middle of the river? I care little about the means.”
I already knew the means.
I had the ledger to prove it. Their names were on Lord DeBurne’s list. It was the only reason we were here.
“We have no interest in your cursed objects,” Ayden hissed and turned toward King Lucif. “Father, you cannot let them speak to us in such a way.”
Lucif frowned at his middle child, shaking his head once. “Answer their questions and then they will leave. It is no more difficult a task than bedding a woman.”
Morgana recoiled in her seat, but all it took was a small sip of her water for the disgust to pass.
“This is ridiculous,” Eamon muttered and pushed himself from the chair like a tyrannical baby. “You’ve traveled all this way for some mirror?”
The youngest brother—also, the one who hadn’t yet talked, Riordan—glanced frantically between his other brothers. He was paler than a ghost.
Oh, this was where I smiled. I smiled so wide, leaning forward and turning to face Morgana. “Did you say anything about a mirror, Lady Tillington?”
She didn’t look at me when she whispered, “No. No, I don’t think I did.” The blood rushed clean from the eldest prince’s face.
Erynna chuckled softly, trying to drown it out with her drink. Meanwhile, Lucif choked on his drink and slammed it on the table. “This is ridiculous. Eamon, tell them you don’t have the damned mirror and be on your way. Now. ”
“We do not have the mirror,” Eamon hissed. “Fucking bitch. ”
Morgana’s glee faded. She bared her teeth. “Would you like me to bite, young prince?”
“ Out. ” Lucif ordered his children, to which they scrambled out the second the guards made a move toward them. I watched with narrowed eyes, twisting my face to meet the king’s once more. His queen was staring down at her untouched food, that vindictive little smile all but a distant memory. Lucif returned nothing less than a glare my way. “You’ve heard it straight from my eldest son, the to-be king of Avendatis. He does not have your mirror.”
“But he knew of it,” I said with this quiet, cool hostility beneath my bitter tongue. “Does that not count for anything?”
Lucif shook his head, the steam spewing from his ears. “What would you like me to do, Prince Aster? He reads the letters he should not. Is that a crime?”
“No, but taking artifacts from Vespera’s shores while the crown investigates the natures of such a plague is, according to our Veridian Union. Or have you forgotten the pillars which uphold our alliances?”
Lucif grew silent. Erynna reached a hand for the table in this false, placating gesture. “This can all be resolved easily, Your Majesties. We do not want to lose favor of such… important crowns.”
I didn’t give a damn about their favor. I gave a damn about what was owed to me.
Lucif glanced at his wife, who’d remained quiet the whole while. For a kingdom nation with such lax social norms around sex and marriage, the women were seen as such silent, obedient creatures. So obedient they often seemed scared.
So silent they were tossed aside at birth in favor of brothers.
“There is nothing we can do for you, Prince Aster,” he muttered.
“Oh, but there is,” Erynna said with a quickness. I acknowledged my sister with raised brows as she leaned forward, her smile rich and tone toxic. “If you trust your children so, have them vow it to the Blood Sisters. That is what they’re best for, correct? Oaths written in blood.”
Lucif scowled. It was such a deep, guttural reaction that I thought her opinions made him sick—unfortunately, I wasn’t sure if it was because he hated her speaking up for the crown, or if it was far too big a risk to make.
“May I remind you of the consequences of refusing us, King Lucif,” I said quietly. “They are grave. Verdantis is not the small nation you once fought decades ago when war already ruined us from within.”
Lucif tapped his fingers on the table, his overgrown nail chipping away at the wood obnoxiously. He huffed, shaking his head as he choked on a half-hearted laugh. “Fine. Ayden will pay witness to the Blood Sister.”
Morgana hummed. “No, no. That won’t do.”
Lucif’s glare snapped onto Morgana. “I beg your pardon? Has the guard dog got something to say?”
I almost snarled. I wanted to take my butter knife and slice it clean through his golden eyes, but I remained quiet.
“Ayden is clueless.” She lifted her gaze and acknowledged the king with a small smile. “If this is to be fair, it has to be Eamon or the youngest, Riordan.”
Erynna’s glistening smirk widened. “Why not both, Lady Tillington?”
I joined in, warmth bubbling in my chest. “Yes, yes. I think both is the only reasonable way to go about this, King Lucif. Surely you understand.” A pause, then, “After all. Our fragile alliance depends on it.”
King Lucif stood, waving a shaky finger at me, spit flying past his mouth as he spat his words. “Tomorrow, you’ll get your trial. That is the only good you and that cursed crown are good for anyway. Now, get out. ”
With that, the guards swarmed us. Their grubby hands grabbed me by the shoulders, as if I were no more deserving of eating the dirt beneath his greasy boots. My head snapped toward Erynna, who’d dissipated as mist to evade their grasp, reappearing at the door. I would have smiled, but when the other guard had snatched Morgana so roughly she was dragged onto the ground, rage consumed me.
I too became a shadow, slipping away from the man who held me back like I was sand between his fingers. When I materialized behind the other guard, I grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him so hard, he went soaring over the chairs. The weight of his fall was enough to even shatter one at the legs.
The king was cursing my name. I sniffled, the magic overwhelming every taste bud. Every sense of smell, sight, touch. Morgana had managed to brace her palms on the floor and twisted to look at me over her shoulder by the time I’d finished.
I held out a hand, and she smiled subtly.
Gods. I could feel Erynna’s glare as I helped her up, my hold lingering for enough time to make any lady of Verdantis gasp. When I let her go though, the terrible cold returned.
And I walked past my sister in silence, neither confirming Morgana’s well-being or addressing the Avendatis’ king’s anger.
I could hear Erynna now— make her hate you, she’d say. It’s just easier that way.
For Morgana, perhaps.
For me? Torture.