Chapter 20 #2
Every week, they’d turn over our small hovels—the tiny shacks made of warped wood and rusty nails we called home—looking for all sorts of contraband.
Not just enhancements, but basic things like wine, chocolate, or books.
Possession of those luxuries was a crime for Ashlanders, while considered mere entertainment for Aris and up.
And yet, they’d sent teams to search our places regularly. Surely they were doing the same now.
“None,” Baydel says, a shocked laugh accompanying his tone.
“What?” I ask, stunned.
“Why not?” Kal echoes my sentiment.
“We’re in the season of the Kings’ List,” Baydel says matter-of-factly.
“This situation has only just been brought to our attention, and as set forth by our list, this situation falls directly under the definition of proving yourselves and your intentions for the good of Lumathyst. You are the ones who must take care of it. How you do so will reflect on your ability to rule Lumathyst.”
A weight sinks atop my shoulders, as if the entirety of Lumathyst settles there.
Of course, I didn’t think the kings would simply hand over their thrones, but I didn’t think they’d need so much proof that their sons can rule.
They’re their sons. Where’s the trust? The pride?
Has their power gifted to them by the goddesses corrupted them to the point they no longer hold faith in their own children?
Or is this about me? About their lack of faith in the mate they chose? Each of the kings, save for Jullian, expressed their disapproval of me. And yet . . . I’m here. I survived, somehow. Isn’t that enough?
I take a steadying breath, the four powers inside me surging against the doors I’ve shoved them behind. My own power slips through, a cool wind swirling in the vast room, too soft for anyone other than me to notice.
Goddess damn them. We should be working together. Our combined resources would be vastly more advantageous than turning this into a ridiculous test.
“The Faders were an issue long before the Kings’ List,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.
Lucas presses his lips together like he’s holding back a laugh. Brooks looks slightly amused. Jullian, proud. Baydel looks pissed—that flash of anger the first sign that his previous nice-guy act has been just that. An act.
“They haven’t been a true threat until now,” Baydel counters. “The recent attack is the first time they’ve made it past the royal borders.”
“Ah, so because they finally made it into your city, you’re now treating it like a real threat? The way we’ve been asking this entire time—”
“You may be the new princess,” Baydel cuts me off, his tone firm, “but do not forget your place. You are speaking to the kings of Lumathyst.”
“And it’s for Lumathyst I speak,” I fire back, not deterred. I probably should be. I should hold my tongue and quell my fire, but whatever survival instinct I had is gone.
I feel unstoppable.
All it would take is one more burst of power and they’d be bowing.
Stop.
I kill the thought, squeezing my eyes shut as if that will help me silence the unwelcome voice in my head.
It sounds like me, but . . . that can’t be me.
I don’t want to kill anyone. Well, maybe Baydel, but not right now.
Not because he’s stern with me. I have more emotional regulation than that. Right?
“Rylee speaks the truth,” Kal says, his touch on my leg gentle and reassuring. “With this many lives at stake, we should share our resources—”
“No,” Baydel cuts in. The prick. “You will handle this matter. The result of which will go toward the vote. We and the Royal Authority Council will determine at the end of this season whether you’ve done enough or not. That’s final.”
He may as well have rung a death knell for how quiet the room falls.
I want to look behind me, to find Ivy and Layce and give them a can you believe this asshole look. But I don’t. I can’t draw unnecessary attention to my friends.
“We’ll take care of it,” Pierce says, nothing but confidence in his tone.
I wish I had the same level of certainty, but after months of not being able to track the Faders’ leader down to try to negotiate or put an end to them, it seems hopeless.
Their leader. Erin.
Every single time, that reality burns like a white-hot knife. I always thought betrayal would feel like ice in my veins, but it doesn’t. It sears.
And with that burning, I find clarity.
I know what I need to do.
I need to stop looking for the leader of the Faders.
I need to continue the search for my sister.
Now that I know she’s here, not off on some adventure, I’ll find her. Draw her out if I have to.
And in that, I’ll settle this.
Put an end to it.
And my mates will ascend the thrones as they deserve.
That notion gives me hope enough to school my features and scoop up my wineglass, taking a fast sip. “Now that this matter is settled,” I say with a calm that rivals Kal’s, “what other tests does the noble Royal Authority Council have in store for us?”
Shock rolls over their faces, though the Occuli is reactionless. I hear a small huff of a laugh behind me. Ivy. I can practically feel her pride.
No, I can feel it. Pride and a sharp anger that matches mine. Jax’s power is potent, slipping like smoke beneath the cracks of the mental locked door.
I breathe in her pride, noticing Layce’s worry and Mirren’s unflinching stubbornness.
My girls are certainly with me.
My mates’ emotions are too complex to sort one from the other.
I don’t bother trying to sense the kings.
“So eager,” Baydel finally responds. “Don’t worry, little bug,” he says, adopting that kinder tone he’s been using since I awoke.
Back to playing games. Wonderful.
“They’ve each given their wise insight,” he continues. “Expressing the most important qualities of a future queen.” He motions to Margreet. “And I dare say she’s come up with the best one.”