“If we fight for you, will you take the High Throne?”Russet skin, violet eyes, and dark hair surface along with the words.
Thatis Ganus.
I lock myself against swiveling in my seat.
Tanila, sitting in the smaller throne to the left of Rowen’s, hesitates as she rises. The calm expression upon her face lies betrayed by the concern in her eyes as she turns to her father. He gives her a silent, resigned nod and she descends, claiming the empty seat beside him.
“We’ve all been used as pawns in a game designed by the gods,” Eloric says, meeting several stares throughout the room. “Rowen has served as Netharis’ mouthpiece whether or not he realizes it. We believe we’re able to prove such.”
My stomach sinks into the depths of the hells.
For smoke and mirrors, this isn’t feeling like a feint.
Eloric speaks with conviction. He truly believes whatever it is Ganus has strung together is nothing short of absolute truth. Until they reveal more, I’ve no means to argue—or defend.
“Tanila, did you hide knowledge from the council regarding your father’s contract?” Ganus’ launch into questioning leaves no time for breath.
Silence grows.
Only to be shattered by her sigh. “Yes.”
“Truth,” Eloric states, his stare fixed upon the princess.
Fenryn swings right, leaning across the empty seat toward Darin. Whatever it is he says, it’s too low for even my ears.
“How long have you hidden this knowledge?” Ganus asks.
More silence.
My fingers curl into Ryc’s and tighten.
“A century,” she replies, lowering her gaze to her lap.
Eloric peers left and nods.
Another truth.
How can sheliein the presence of a truthteller?
She can’t.
And the questions aren’t leaving enough room for the infamous fae wordsmithing to take flight. I do not envy her position.
Rowen being contracted for a century is nothing more than minutes to a god. Netharis plots and moves in longer strokes—I’ve witnessed him sacrifice the skirmish of an immediate battle waiting for the decimation of a pending war. Lesser, more impatient demons would be inclined to give into their demonic urges and take the spoils within easy reach.
Not Netharis.
Whatever my father’s plans for the Sovereign King of Vis, they were left incomplete. The living realm is better for it.
Regardless, the duration doesn’t alter the damning truth Tanila hid what she knew. In that she is guilty. Though honestly, were I in her position, I might have done the same.
“At no time did you feel the weight of your duty to alert this council to the nature of your father’s choices?” Ganus asks, his tone firmer.
“I would have,” she replies, the confidence in her tone resounding. “Had he changed. He did not. Over the last century, he’s remained in possession of his mind. He stands by his people. He’s—”
“I’ve no further questions for you, Tanila,” Ganus interjects, his voice cold and sharp. “The council has heard what it needs to.”
Yes, she’s laid her guilt bare.
