Chapter 1 #2
“Does it tire you, being the vilest hypocrite in Trisia? Or have you spent so much time practicing that it’s become as natural as breathing for you?”
A tide of anger rose in him. How dare she?
“How could I hold a candle to my wife? She upstages me at every opportunity.”
She turned her gaze back to the road.
“Threats and insults? Is this all the business you had with me?”
Theron bit back a curse. She infuriated him to no end. This was why it was a fool’s errand to speak with her. But if he had any hope of unravelling her resolve, he needed answers. For now, he would have to swallow as much of his anger as he could.
“Why did you betray me?” he grumbled.
“I could ask the same of you.”
“I betrayed nothing.”
“You betrayed everything!” she said, vehemence not only in her tone but in the white-knuckled grip on the reins, refusing all the while to look at him. “From the very start you did nothing but lie! You’re only upset because now you’re facing the consequences.”
Then she’d never once been sincere? His anger surged. He moved his mount so there wasn’t even a hairsbreadth of space between them, looming over her.
“This was your plan all along? To side with my enemies? To march an army into my kingdom?”
“I’ve been nothing but honest about my plans from the very start. This—” She gestured to the procession, unaffected by his nearness and posture. “Is the result of your lies.”
He grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him.
“Damn it, woman, what the fuck are you on about?”
She grabbed her riding crop and struck his other hand. He recoiled from the sting, releasing her. There, the first stirring of real emotion in her eyes—fury.
“Don’t you ever touch me again!”
He snatched her reins instead, blocking her path with his mount. Their lopers tossed their heads, snorting angrily. His mount stamped its hooves, asserting itself over Aurora’s.
“You will answer me, or I’ll truss you up and hitch you to my saddle until you’re ready to speak. Either way, I’ll have the truth out of you.”
“As if anyone here would allow you to manhandle me that way!”
“Oh, because you have so many allies? Whose orders do you think these Viridian dogs are following—yours or Flora’s? And what of your high priestess, hmm? Is the woman who maimed you going to protest on your behalf? Shall we find out if your new tiara is made of fool’s gold, Aurora?”
She shuttered her expression, turning her gaze from his. He hated it. He hated it more than he’d ever hated anything in his life. How dare she look away?
“If I answer, will you finally go away?” she asked, resigned.
“Yes,” he lied.
He wouldn’t leave until she looked at him again. Until she stopped pretending she could ignore him.
“Drakon, you thrice-damned monster. You lied about Drakon. So take”—she tore the reins from his hands—“your bullshit, and go choke on it!”
She urged her loper to manoeuvre around his and sped off, leaving him with sick dread. Batea’s serpents.
Someone had told her about the beasts. But who?
Orithyia’s mount plodded past him.
“This is your doing!” he snarled at the high priestess.
“You give me too much credit, Your Majesty. I believe this was entirely the result of your own choices.”
“You filled her head with lies!”
The old woman raised a white brow on her wrinkled forehead.
“I gave her the truth. If that put her at odds with you, perhaps the fault is yours.”
He gripped his reins and returned to his people.
Theron had his answers. Orithyia was to blame for his current predicament, and Aurora, consumed by anger, had agreed to be Flora’s blade.
He pushed past Myrina, ignoring her concern, making his way instead to his commander’s side.
Commander Nireus was a bull of a man with an impressively severe face and a bone-deep hatred for Viridians. Perfect for what Theron had planned.
This problem wouldn’t be solved with kind words or romantic gestures. If he wanted to whittle down his foes, only bronze and bloodshed would suffice.
“Your Majesty.” Commander Nireus bowed his head, black strands of his hair escaping confinement and sticking to his tanned skin, his deep brown eyes serious and alert. “What can I assist you with?”
“There are bandits in these hills, are there not?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but fear not, we gave them a sound beating on the way to Boreas.”
“Do you recall where their encampment was?”
“Of course.”
“Send them a message. If they wish to become honest mercenaries, then the King of Aureum has lucrative work for them,” Theron said, his eyes lingering on the baggage carts limping along at a snail’s pace in the rear.
Viridian baggage. Carts that were full to bursting with food, weapons, luxuries, and more.
Nireus’ eyes lit with understanding.
No doubt Nireus would be keen to cause a little havoc with the vile Viridians.
After all, his father had been one of the victims of Flora’s ill-considered attack on Aureum decades past. He’d been a loyal, if vicious, soldier the moment he’d come of age and had proven himself worthy of Theron’s respect.
It was why he held the position of spear bearer in Theron’s court, head of palace security while Theron sat in his capital, or king’s bodyguard while on the road.
Theron might not be able to turn this Viridian horde around, but he could ensure their journey to his kingdom was so fraught that they would arrive less as a conquering army and more as a host of broken beggars.
Given the slow pace, it would be two weeks until they arrived at the end of the Queen’s Road.
Two weeks to harass the soft nobles and their retinues with ceaseless nightly raids, convincing them to abandon their march.
Two weeks to harry the troops, bleeding them of their resources, forcing them to replenish their supplies from the surrounding villages and towns or retreat.
By the time they made it to the end of the Queen’s Road, he hoped to impoverish the whole of the Viridian countryside.
And if all those resources were continuously siphoned off to Aureum, all the better for his hungry people.
“I’ll be honoured to carry out this task.”
“I thought you might,” Theron said, grinning.
The first raindrops came soon after that. They’d marched most of the day, and the sight of Boreas had finally stopped blighting the horizon.
“Set up camp for the day. And make sure our people get the best spot.”
How quickly Aurora had forgotten her purpose.
Trapped in ancient Boreas with a charismatic, attractive king, she’d let him fill the fissures in her heart that grief had caused, only to find he’d been pouring poison into her the whole time.
Now, all she had for her troubles was more pain, and no one to lighten the load.
Hyllus and Epicasta had—rightly—fled the city long before them.
It would be weeks before they met again in Aureum, according to their plans.
Aurora was on her own.
Anger couldn’t sustain her forever. Soon enough, the pain would overwhelm her.
The tears. The hopelessness. She’d been expecting a gift of dawn roses, as any newlywed might the morning after a wedding.
Instead, all she had was the taste of bitter betrayal and the High Priestess of Knowledge at her side.
Orithyia had been giving her lessons in how best to deal with the Aurean king, his weaknesses, his flaws.
How he would despise it most if she refused to look at him and gave him the cold shoulder.
The king always sought a fight and so would be most vexed when he wasn’t given the chance to do battle.
She could win against him only if she refused to play his games on his terms. His tactics would be to spar, to use his cunning and his intimidation, to break her through clever rhetoric and lies.
Aurora had to start playing chess and see his bluster for what it was.
It had worked until her emotions had gotten the better of her.
She’d fled his presence to get away from the rage he woke in her and the simmering need in her traitorous body that his nearness invoked.
Aurora hated him even more for that. Pressing a hand against her broken heart, Aurora fought back another scream.
The thick green silk of her gown wore heavily on her in the heat of the day.
Aurora tugged at the fabric, desperate for a cool breeze.
She would have preferred her own clothes, but much like the hand she’d been dealt, she had to make the best of what she’d been given.
She could only hope the Viridians who’d come to carry out Flora’s plans ruined Theron as thoroughly as he’d ruined her.
“Your Majesty, may I have a word?”
High Priestess Myrina.
Her heart ached anew. She’d trusted the high priestess’ words, that there was a thread of fate between her and the king—that it was a blessing.
But now that she knew the truth of his lies, she couldn’t help suspecting Myrina as well.
Had he convinced his aunt to lie for him?
She was undeniably close to the king, her favour obvious to all.
Aurora hadn’t thought to suspect a High Priestess of Passion of such wicked deceit, but she was a person too, with all the attendant flaws and failings.
Orithyia had warned her of Passion’s high priestess, that where her nephew would use violence, she would kill with kindness.
It was something Aurora was poorly equipped to protect herself from.
When she’d stood at Fae’s side, it was easier to see the lies in the smiles and kind gestures of the courtiers and attendants.
But here, with the only person she could rely on—Hyllus—far from her side, she’d been desperate for compassion and warmth.
Even more so now that she was nothing more than a collection of jagged shards held together with spite.
Aurora steeled herself. She could do this. She could do it for Fae.
“You may, Your Holiness.”