“It’s not.” Swallowing a curse, I rubbed at my chest. “I was more so thinking about how you would avoid Father when it came time for your royal lessons.”
Malik’s narrowed gaze remained on me for a moment, and then he looked down. His anger had faded, but I could tell he didn’t entirely believe me. I was speaking the truth.
After a moment, he cleared his throat. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want the responsibility.”
“I know.” And I did. “It was just that you were exceptionally skilled at not being where you were supposed to be.”
A slight curl of his lips formed. “Meanwhile, you were always where you were supposed to be and then some.” He brushed a strand of light-brown hair back from his face. “Times sure have changed.”
That they had.
He hadn’t been able to sit still for any real length of time, always surrounded himself with others, and was known for being a notorious prankster. While being holed up in a room with Father or Alastir drove him mad, Malik had wanted to rule when his time came. I, on the other hand, had been reserved, rather studious, and often on the receiving end of his pranks. Ruling had never appealed to me. My interests geared more toward agriculture and architecture. We were opposites. My brother had been born a leader, and I a warrior.
But we were entirely different people back then. Mostly. That realization didn’t settle like lead in my chest like it used to. My eyes strayed to the bedchamber, and I knew why it no longer affected me so deeply. All the changes I’d gone through had led me to Poppy.
I faced my brother and took a deep breath. “Have you been feeding?”
His brows pulled together. “Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“Haveyoubeen feeding?” he fired back.
“I haven’t needed to,” I replied, crossing my arms as surprise flickered across his face. “But you clearly haven’t.”
A muscle twitched in his temple, and Attes’s image flashed in my mind. “I didn’t come here to talk to you about my feeding habits.”
“Why did you come?”
“Two things,” he answered. “We finally finished searching the Shadow Temple.”
One of the first things I’d ordered was for one of our generals and their guards to watch the Shadow Temple, figuring that was where a Primal of Death would go. So far, there was no sign of him.
Malik reached inside the inner pocket of his tunic and pulled out a slip of folded parchment, offering it to me. “And we received a message from Pensdurth.”
Before I even took the letter, I knew I wouldn’t like what I read. The metallic scent clinging to the fine rag paper made from linen told me as much.
Blood.
Stale, dried blood.
CHAPTER 8
CASTEEL
My anger and disgust grew as I unfolded the parchment and quickly read the words scrawled in thick, rusty crimson.
The message wasn’t long or addressed to anyone in particular.
It didn’t need to be.
Your claim to Solis is as tainted as the bloodline that bore you. Our allegiance is forever pledged to the one true King of all the realms. For he has risen, and all those who stand against him and the Blood Crown will fall.
My fingers crumpling the edges of the parchment, I looked down at the signature of the jackass claiming dukedom over Pensdurth. “Eldric Ashwood,” I murmured. “Sounds like the name of an asshole if I ever heard one.”
Malik snorted.
My gaze flicked to him. “I assume you read this.”
