Chapter 16
I can’t present a respectable front when my body is freezing and sweating at the same time. What a freak of nature does that?
I am forced to be civil towards a male whom I’d prefer to see hanging. But what else can I do?
“I’m here,” Jestin nudges my shoulder, and I pivot, turning a little too sharply in his direction. He doesn’t say anything else, so I study his face. He looks as cool and collected as always, but under that careful mask, he’s fuming. I know him well enough to be sure of that.
Dante knows him just as well.
“What if they attack?” Nulok asks, standing with the rest, on the field Riven has chosen for the confrontation.
I raise an eyebrow, about to ask, Why are you asking me? but he stares at me expectantly.
“He won’t,” Jestin answers in my stead. “He’s here to goad us into making a mistake, maybe to take a read on us.”
I’m not so sure. That male has already tarnished his image in my head; I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
My power stirs inside me at the thought of him, and I force myself not to let the worry show on my face. Worry that I won’t be able to contain it. Worry that I might not want to.
Nulok nods. “I don’t envy you. Compared to you, I had the unpleasant experience of meeting him only a few times over the years.”
“He won’t attack, don’t be stupid Nulok. It’s a move to evaluate how stable Sels is and who stands behind her.” Jestin chastises him.
The air thickens with the metallic tang of blood, though no blade has been drawn yet.
“Here they come,” Riven says from my left. He and Bane stand side by side, their posture disciplined and civil, yet the feral malice is impossible to miss. Bane flexes his gloved fingers slowly, as if already feeling the weight of his sword. Meanwhile, Riven offers a faint, almost courteous smile.
As for me, I lock every muscle in my body so as not to cringe while I follow his sight.
The once endless desert is now invaded by thousands of elemental casters. From a distance, they look like a four-colour flag in the middle of nowhere, but with each passing moment—each phase, I can fairly judge exactly how many Fae that flag is made of.
I look at Jestin, but I don’t see a similar worry on his face.
“I wonder who gave them permission to cross my land,” he says dryly as the sand around him responds to his agitation; more than half already turned to glass, rising and dancing, reflecting the sun like a kaleidoscope.
“Crossing borders isn’t forbidden,” Nulok states, and Jestin gives him a long stare, as if wanting to say, ‘It is completely not the point, dude.’
“Theoretically no, but after killing Rowan, we are kind of walking on thin ice,” Riven says, voice calm but unreadable.
“Everything in this Queendom right now is on thin ice,” I state, without looking away from the casters.
The storm inside me whirls. I am more than ready to annihilate that cockroach; I only need to stop myself from doing it. Easy, after all, I am the epitome of self-control.
“We are fixing it just now,” Nulok says, but before I can express my undying love for him, the army stops phasing, and one single portal opens right before us. My companions tense, but get in line. From the left, there are: Nulok, Jestin, Aidon, me, Riven and Bane.
From the blue rectangle steps out Dante, his black uniform symbolising his claim as heir to all four elemental courts. He looks exactly as I remember, messy hazelnut hair and striking chocolate eyes.
My insides twist.
Behind him, four Fae with generals’ emblems on their uniforms.
Dante appraises my companions, then turns his attention to me.
“My Lady,” he bows at the waist before continuing. “Quite the welcoming committee.” His tone is like hot lava cooled by water, controlled, but still dangerous.
Then he frowns, jaw tightening, as his eyes land on Riven. “Pity. I told my father you are a disloyal rat, but he was determined to trust you.”
“I am loyal.” Riven shrugs. “As each male in my army.”
“We will see about that,” Dante dismisses him with a wicked smile, then turns his gaze to Jestin. “On the other hand, your presence doesn’t surprise me at all. You were always pining after my betrothed, Juice.”
I scowl. I’ve always hated that stupid nickname.
Dante started using it after—during our betrothal—we visited Jestin and he answered the door with some woman’s juice still smeared across his damned face.
That woman later found herself shipped off to the Halfling lands as a Berigander’s courtesy.
I’m not proud of it. But I don’t regret it either.
Jestin just smiles, smug as ever. “I am nothing if not persistent.”
“I need to remember that nickname for later,” Aidon smirks.
Bane, standing closest to him, lets out a small giggle. “It is a little funny.”
Their banter grates on me. My scowl deepens before I can stop it, a tight pull of annoyance I try and fail to smooth away. I can feel the heat of my irritation simmering just beneath my skin.
Dante studies them for a moment, then answers Jestin. “I guess you are, Juice. I guess you are.”
The nickname lands like a pebble in my stomach, small but enough to sour everything.
Finally, he turns that chocolate gaze to me. “I missed you so much, Sellie,” he says, a huge grin spreading across his face, as if the last time I saw him, he hadn’t quite managed to wreck my heart completely.
“Of course he has a nickname for you,” Aidon mutters with irritation while positioning himself casually before me.
I only glare at my ex-fiancé, my fists twitching with the effort to keep still.
Many times, when I thought about that incident, I wanted to let myself blame him for my behaviour. It would be so much easier to blame someone else. My life would get some colours, even if still on the grey spectrum. But it would be a lie.
I could have done a million things better. If only I had known.
Yet, even with my exceptional self-awareness, I yearn to put a heel into his throat.
I inhale deeply and try to keep that need in check. Yet, my fingers tremble, so I put my hands into my pockets, aiming for a nonchalant, bored look, squeezing my fists to help my self-control.
“Sentiment not reciprocated,” I say coolly.
“Come on, don’t give me that cold shoulder treatment,” he scowls, getting closer to us.
I don’t know what I want more now, to take one step closer, or one step back, but I force my spine straight, refusing to waver.
Honestly, I don’t know what to reply, so I continue to stare. Sometimes silence is the best offence.
“It is a good time to establish who is going to be on top.” Aidon leans in, whispering theatrically into my ear as his hand brushes my hip. I shoot a glance at Dante in time to see an ugly scowl twisting his face.
Then Jestin spreads his arms wide and smiles with condescension. “I wanted to say I missed your ugly face, but gentlemen don’t cheat.”
Score!
Dante ignores his comment and heads straight to me, but before he can reach me, Riven growls, snapping his wings. “Not. A. Step. Closer.”
“I only want to talk,” Dante says in a way he always used to handle me after my outbursts. As if I was the dramatic one, when in reality he was the one who was wrong.
That tone tips the scale. I clench and unclench my fists, drawing a calming breath. “Cut the theatrics, I don’t have time for you.”
I hear a growl of appreciation from my right, but I can’t tell whose.
“I get I hurt you, but that drama was an overreaction, wasn’t it?”
I stiffen, and my companions glance at me, waiting. When I stay silent, Riven steps forward, but I place a hand on his shoulder and give a subtle shake of my head. He nods and backs off, though his grip on the axe remains tight.
“You should bow,” I say, aiming for a strong voice, but it goes a little quieter than I wanted.
He notices and puts his hand to his ear. “What was that?”
How dare he mock me? “Bow,” I repeat, letting some of that cursed power lance the word.
The generals behind him obey, which makes me smirk, and Dante scoffs.
“No need for formality, darling, I came here with a proposal.”
Aidon growls, exposing his canines.
“Contain your pets,” Dante chastises.
“That pet will bite your rotting head off if the Lady here lets him,” Aidon glares at him.
Score again.
Dante only shakes his head and looks at me, smiling. “My dad is happy you stopped grieving and we want to offer you a mating alliance, as it was supposed to happen from the beginning.”
My rage clouds my vision, but before I can respond, Riven steps in, grounding me with his firm hand on my shoulder.
“The High Queen doesn’t require any alliance. I recommend you pack your things.”
“Will you let the dragon slave talk for you?” Dante spits. “You’ve stooped so low. I guess it is understandable, considering you discard all your significant allies.”
“Are you done?” I yawn. “My general speaks the truth. Before I finish my tour, I want all traces of you out of my palace.”
“I suppose the mating won’t happen, then.” He tilts his head with condescension.
“You are a disgrace, Ogison. There was always something wrong about you, but I never suspected you could stoop so low.” Nulok steps forward, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade as his eyes bore into Dante.
I glance at him, feeling the familiar surge of calm his presence brings.
He gives me a small, reassuring smile, and I nod.
“I forbid you from assembling the army; Rhodria won’t go to war.” My hands are clenched at my sides, and I lock eyes with Dante, letting my voice carry across the open space.
“We will, but before we wipe the ghouls out of existence, we need to settle a house war.” His grin stretches too wide and a cold shiver runs down my spine. Not the pleasant kind. My pulse quickens, every instinct on alert, and I can feel the weight of the danger in the space between us.
“You have no claim,” I say, far too meekly.
“Yet I have an army and access to the palace, and you know very well that unless you kneel at Gorok’s temple, you won’t be crowned, and my elementals can keep you away from the palace for a long time. Long enough for an assassin to strike, ending the Berigander era.”
“You always liked hearing your own voice, didn’t you, Dante?” Jestin yawns, making others chuckle.
Dante’s gaze sharpens. “Funny how you like my discarded plaything. You were always pining for my stuff?”
Riven is on him in an instant, pressing his battle axe to his throat.
“One more insult against my Queen, and I’ll slit your throat to fashion a sheath for my axe, sweetheart.”
“Get your dog away from me immediately,” Dante growls through clenched teeth, though a smile tugs on his lips. Riven lets him step out of reach and Dante does it without bothering to cover his back, as if Riven wasn’t a threat at all.
“We should kill him,” Aidon says, and I hear grunts of agreement from my companions.
“Listen, if you change your mind, we can pick up where we left off. I admire your temper; rarely does a bitch take vengeance to such extremes. I’m honoured.” Dante addresses me.
“Stop talking. I don’t care about your nonsense, but I’ll do it by the book,” I growl, then turn to the Fae he brought with him. “Generals, if you don’t abide by my orders, you will be punished. Spread the word that your High Queen has returned.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Dante barks at them.
I continue, disregarding him. “I caution you, Dante. Do you think that after wiping my bloodline I would be merciful for you? Think again.”
Generals shake now.
“Alright, alright.” Dante winks. “I’ll tell my father to reinforce the walls. If you ever survive the forest.”
Then his Water General creates a portal, and they head through it. But before stepping into the blue rectangle, Dante grins at me, bowing mockingly.
“You never will!” shouts Aidon. Dante’s eyes bore into him before disappearing.
My teeth clench; the silence he leaves behind is heavier than his contemptuous bow.