Chapter 55
PROPOSAL
FELíNE RUSHED AFTER KAL, DODGING hurried Meressians as the city mobilized.
It wasn’t chaos. There were no worried cries or terrified citizens blindly seeking safety.
No, this was more unnerving than a panicked tumult.
It was a collective, organized rally of able bodies.
Every person had a purpose, a clear directive, and they pursued whatever it was with undeterred focus.
He trained them well, Felíne thought as she wove between bodies.
This was why Lucien had been so threatened by Kal’s involvement.
He’d accomplished more here to marshal these people than all of the Conclave combined.
Any man or woman capable of battle had donned armor and weapons as soon as the warning of her father’s envoy had spread through the wood.
Defenses were prepared. Those not trained for combat had undertaken other tasks.
Stocking infirmaries. Cooking food. Securing children. Reinforcing fortifications.
Vorak’s words rang through her ears, clanging in her skull. King Domitan Faelstrom is coming.
He knew. He knew she was here. The certainty of it was like a lead ball dropping into the pit of her stomach.
Kal passed the armory. The open-faced structure was crowded with people waiting for swords, a fresh cache of thick-shafted arrows, spears, and knives. The smiths inside had the forge roaring, and the clanging of metal weaponry sounded like a warning toll.
“Kal,” Felíne called.
He didn’t slow.
“Kalevar! Damn you, wait.” She broke into a jog.
When they reached the stable, Kal finally stopped to bark a command at one of the stable hands, who promptly ran off to saddle Sig. Kal turned to her then, and the calm in his expression unsettled her more than if he’d been frenzied with fury.
“Kal, would you stop for ten seconds and tell me what you’re thinking?” Felíne struggled to catch her breath.
“I’m calculating.”
“Calculating what?”
“How best to kill the king.”
Felíne’s brain activity momentarily shorted out.
The way he said it made her insides go cold.
His declaration spread through her chest like frost creeping along a pane of glass.
She knew Kal wanted Domitan dead. She knew the King of Asteros had orchestrated the murder of his parents.
That he’d upended Kal’s childhood, changed the course of Kal’s entire life.
But grappling with the imminent possibility of her father dying at the hands of the man she loved was… appalling.
Before she could formulate a response, Adder arrived.
He wordlessly handed Kal leather armor, which Kal donned without preamble.
The proud sea creature with a roaring lion’s head, which served as his family’s crest, stamped the oiled chest plate.
Kal pulled bracers onto his forearms and tightened them in place.
They’d been embossed with roiling waves.
Twin custom short swords were sheathed across his back.
A moment later, the stable hand emerged from the barn leading Sig.
Felíne’s heart tumbled painfully behind her rib cage.
Sig’s handsome roan hide had been fitted with bronzed plates of armor that gleamed against his flecked red and white coat.
A thin plate covered his broad forehead and the bridge of his long nose.
A dancing golden flame was etched into the plate, directly between his wide, excited eyes.
He looked every bit a war horse eager for battle. It made her want to cry.
Kal sheathed a final blade along his calf and swung into the saddle. He looked at Adder. “Keep her safe.”
Adder fisted his right hand over his chest and bowed slightly.
“What? No. Kal!” He couldn’t leave her behind. They needed to talk about this. He was riding off to kill her father. Panic clawed into her. What if something happened to him? What if he succeeded?
Felíne lurched forward, reaching for Sig’s reins, but Adder grabbed her about the waist, holding her back. Kal settled the weight of his gaze on her once more, his eyes conveying something she didn’t understand, before Sig wheeled with a snort and took off at a canter.
Felíne was nauseated with worry as she waited.
She’d expected Adder to take her back to Kal’s cabin.
Instead, they’d joined Santhe at Beulah’s home bakery, where the Porter daughters were busy cranking out loaves of bread to distribute in case of a blockade or urgent evacuation.
Penn had gone to help his father with the Stillwater defenses.
Santhe found her sitting on the front stoop, zipping the worn gold coin along her necklace.
It was a wonder the chain hadn’t snapped by now.
Felíne remembered Kal recovering the stolen necklace from a young pickpocket when they’d first arrived in Cindamar.
He’d read her name engraved into one side, thought it said feline, and nicknamed her Kitty.
“Demanding, temperamentally unpredictable little beasts,” he’d said. “Just as likely to sink their claws into you as to crave your affection.”
Damn her, she was not going to cry right now.
“Here,” Santhe said, joining her on the step. She pushed a cup of steaming tea into Felíne’s numb hands.
Felíne mumbled her thanks.
They sat for some time, listening to the sounds of the forest city as it finalized its preparations.
“What do you think will happen?” Even contemplating the possibilities made a fresh swell of sick burn up her throat.
Santhe stared out into the encroaching shadows.
Kal had been gone for hours, and every minute of his absence had been torture.
“Kal has been plotting his revenge for years,” Santhe answered. She cast a sidelong glance at Felíne. Her expression was hard, though her brows creased with an attempt at compassion. “He told you what Domitan took from him?”
Felíne swallowed. Nodded. “He killed Kal’s parents,” she whispered.
“Kal had an idyllic childhood,” Santhe replied.
“He was raised in a beautiful seaside castle, surrounded by loyal friends and loving family. He wasn’t spoiled.
He was trained as a warrior, cultured, and tutored.
His parents had every expectation that he would grow up to inherit their titles, step into the role of benevolent ruler, and become a protector of his people, just as his ancestors had been for generations.
The Lord and Lady of Brightsea expected to be there to guide their son’s succession. ”
Felíne could picture it. She knew what it was like to grow up surrounded by opulence, though she imagined Kal’s upbringing lacked the crushing weight of a goddess’s prophecy.
“King Domitan and Queen Serebine ripped Kalevar’s future away from him,” Santhe continued, voice going cold. “His parents were invited to Asteros as guests and then slaughtered for failing to adopt foreign customs.”
Felíne couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed at her, irrational though it may be. That wasn’t the only reason they’d been killed.
“He was just a boy, Felíne,” Santhe said quietly, compassion coloring her features.
“He was left in an alley, scared and forced to face an unimaginable future. Cinah and I found him. We became his family. We hid him from the crown. And Kal? He didn’t cower.
He never once surrendered to grief or fear or circumstance.
What he went through would have broken most people.
But his tragedy forged him into the man he is today.
He will stop at nothing to avenge his parents, to protect his new family. ”
Felíne didn’t know how to feel. She’d never been so conflicted in her life. It was like being ripped in two. “Did Kal establish the Cozened?”
“No,” Santhe answered. “Their rebellion existed long before Kal’s involvement.
He found common cause with them. When he left Asteros, he began building a network of allies with the sole intent of overthrowing the Asterosian monarchy.
Restoring order to Ilistaar. Everything he has done since his family was murdered has been in pursuit of that goal.
” Santhe studied Felíne, the sharp angles of her face stern.
“He cares for you a great deal. And you must understand, Kal chooses his people very carefully. He is not a man prone to passing fancies.”
Felíne felt a new emotion settle into her spirit. Pride.
“But he will not allow his affection for you to alter his trajectory.”
“I don’t expect him to,” Felíne admitted.
“I never wanted this. I’ve lived in the shadow of the Goddess’s prophecy my entire life.
But to learn that my parents murdered an innocent boy’s family?
For power? For political control?” Felíne fought back the surge of disgust. “To learn what they’ve been doing to the Fates?
In my name?” People were expendable to the monarchs of Asteros.
Their subjects weren’t seen as shurii worth protecting, worth leading.
They were seen as objects to be used for personal gain.
It was abhorrent. It was wrong. It went against everything she’d been led to believe, everything she thought they stood for.
“So, you’re fine with Kal’s course of action?”
Felíne’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Of course, I’m not fine with it. They’re my parents, Santhe. I want them held accountable, not killed.”
Santhe stiffened, and Felíne sensed that the slight woman was disappointed by her response.
“If you knew even half of what they’ve done, then you might feel differently.
If you knew what your sire continues to do…
” Santhe trailed off, visibly shaken by the sudden flood of anger.
It took her a moment to collect herself.
“You’d understand that death is a mercy they don’t deserve. ”
Felíne sipped the chamomile tea, now cool in her hands. She didn’t know how to respond, and so she said nothing. The women sat on the shared step, private thoughts creating an unspoken barrier between them.
Adder stepped into view from the side of the house. His attention was fixed down the drive where Felíne spied a lone rider approaching. She shot to her feet, cold tea forgotten.
Kal pulled Sig’s reins to a halt when he reached them and slipped out of the saddle.
She’d expected blood splattered armor, sweat, and grime from battle, but Kal looked just as he had when he’d left earlier that day, if a little more worn.
Felíne tried to read his face, her elation at seeing him alive and visibly unharmed subsiding as she considered the alternative.
“Is the bastard dead then?”
Santhe’s blunt question jarred Felíne. Kal cut severe black eyes toward his female friend in warning. Santhe’s hands found her narrow hips.
“Domitan lives,” Kal replied.
Felíne let out a breath of relief, while Santhe’s exhale spoke of her frustration. Adder remained impassive as he waited for Kal to continue.
“He knows Felíne is here.”
Hearing her suspicion confirmed wasn’t a reassurance. Quite the contrary. It reinforced her dread.
“How?” Santhe demanded. “No one knew. You weren’t followed out of Asteros. The hunter that escaped, if she even made it back to the capital alive, didn’t know where you were headed.”
“Cinah,” Kal said, face impossibly grave.
Adder stepped forward. “You’re sure?”
At the same time, Santhe spat, “Horseshit.”
No one spoke. Santhe’s shock was so apparent, she looked as though she’d been slapped.
“How could you say that?” she hissed. “Cinah would never—”
“He did, San,” Kal said, voice hollow as an empty tomb.
Santhe shook her head, unwilling to accept what Kal was saying. “You can’t know that.”
Kal’s shoulders dipped, though his expression remained implacable. “Domitan’s army is camped beyond the ridge, outside Stillwater’s southwest boundary. Not the full retinue, based on our scout’s report, but enough to present a threat.”
“That still doesn’t explain—”
“I know because Cinah is here, Santhe. Domitan brought him,” Kal cut in. “The king’s envoy gave me this.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a rip of parchment, passing it to Santhe, who scanned its contents with a quaking hand.
“It’s him,” he said gently. “The writing is his.” Kal’s black gaze found Felíne, the dark sea within his irises churning and troubled.
And yet, there was defiance within those depths.
An unwillingness to accept the die that cruel fate had cast at their feet.
Felíne met that resistance with her own acquiescence.
For she knew what Kal was going to say, and she knew there was no way to avoid what would happen next. Their time was up.
“I’m sorry?” Santhe read, eyes fixed on Cinah’s note. “What does he mean he’s sorry? Kal?”
Kal’s jaw worked, the muscles along that perfect line flexing once, twice, as he studied Felíne’s features.
“Kal.” Santhe grabbed his arm to recapture his attention.
He tore his gaze from Felíne and looked between his friends. “The king is proposing a trade. He’ll return Cinah to us…in exchange for his daughter.”