He sits bright in a line of darker hues.
Louder than his jacket is the empty seat beside him.
No mate.
Another king sure to be on Vaelyn’s list.
I know little about the Sovereign King of Renna—but what I do know inclines me to believe if any king were to sign, it would be him.
“The timeliness of Ves’ return is not the intent of this meeting,” Ryc finally replies, his tone cold. “I’m presenting her before the council as expected.”
“As per usual, you’re asking the wrong questions, Eloric.” The white-haired fae sitting on Eloric’s right says, sounding annoyed.
The seat beside himisoccupied.
A round-faced creature with storm cloud gray eyes and dark waves shifts. Her stare travels from Ryc to me, her eyeslocking with mine. Another Sovereign Queen.
“What should be asked is does the god of death sit among us,” the male says, joining his mate in staring openly.
Fenryn scoffs. “You believe the god of death would sit in the company ofmortals,Liran? Don’t be daft.”
“Whatdemonwould pass on the power ofgodhood?” Eloric retorts, the words sharp.
More eyes than I’d like turn and fall upon Ryc and I.
I take a slow, steadying breath.
Let this be the first and last time I attest this before the council.
“I sit before you mortal,” I say, my voice firm. “The hells are not mine.”
Eloric’s face sets in a sour scowl. “Truth,” he says.
Liran’s white eyes widen. “You forfeited the hells?”
Rowen raises a silencing hand. “Should you have further questions, I encourage you to approach Alaryc and Vestaris upon the conclusion of this meeting. We all have busy schedules. I’d like to get this trial underway.”
“Aye,” Fenryn says as he levels a sweeping stern glare across the room.
“Ganus, Eloric, the council floor is open to you,” Rowen says as he folds his hands in his lap.
Eloric inhales deeply, meeting Rowen’s steady gaze with an icy glare of his own. “No member of the High Council is exempt from the duty of upholding their oath. It is our promise to protect our people and our fae nations. Your choices and actions have proven you are no longer fit to preside over Vis.”
“I am ready and willing to take accountability,” Rowen replies with unsurprising dignity. “Yet my request to preserve my daughter has been largely ignored.”
As it had a week ago, Rowen’s desire to safeguard his daughter sits heavy upon my chest. Rowen may not be perfect, but through his daughter, it’s easy to see his heart lies in the right place.
Eloric smiles, a cold, unfeeling gesture. “Had you not chosen to use your daughter as a conduit to exert Netharis’ will, her Fate would not hang with yours.”
I glance at Ryc, my brows furrowing and his jaw sets tight.
Is this the connection he referred to?
How in the hells could Rowen impose Netharis’ plansthroughTanila?
“Princess Tanila, please take the seat beside your father,” another deep male voice encourages with surprising softness. “We’ve a few questions to ask.”
It’s a familiar voice and tone, one that pulls a memory from my last meeting with this council.
