It’s not going to be a sweeping win, but it’s going to be a win.
Thanks to Oryn.
“Sol votes nay,” Fenryn says with a beaming grin.
All eyes turn to Rowen.
“Vis votes nay.” Rowen’s vote comes as no surprise. “By voice of the High Council, the Grayflame family will remain the royal family of Vis.” Rowen barely finishes speaking before Tanila buries her face in her hands, stifling a sob.
Others stand from their seats, once again congregating in small pockets as they had when we arrived. I catch more than one glare from a pair of yellow eyes between moving bodies.
Ryc turns to me. “Our first win, little love,” he says, his voice low.
It doesn’t feel like much of a win, truth be told.
It feels more like the beginning of a convoluted and potentiallyabusive relationship with seven Sovereign Kings.
“Is this the kind of behavior we can expect from our High Rulers?” Eloric asks and a few faces pivot. “Offenses made by those favored swept under the rug?”
“Favored?” Fenryn laughs as he pulls himself to a stand, revealing his towering height in case it had been forgotten. “Do you hear yourself, Eloric? Ryc doesn’tfavorRowen.”
“No, but his mate does,” Eloric counters.
Ifavor Rowen?
“He was seen visiting her quarters the night of the eclipse,” Eloric says and I heave a tired sigh. “What dealings were made then I wonder?”
Fenryn’s arm shoots out, stopping Ryc by the chest as Ryc springs to his feet with a low growl. Eloric doesn’t flinch. Instead, his dark brow arches. Fenryn lets his arm fall.
This damn fae isblessedI do not have my innate.
I might snap his neck otherwise.
A tiny vibration races through my chest and down the length of my spine.
“Your insinuations are unfounded, Eloric,” Rowen says, giving the fae a scathing scowl. “Vestaris’ concerns that night revolved around Alaryc. She—”
“You needn’t explain, Rowen,” I interject, rising to my feet. “My business is my own. Aside from the damn ascension, I owe this council nothing.”
No.
If Rowen details the purpose of our meeting, Eloric will absolutely use it to convince the council Erus’ support of Rowen is an act of one hand washing another. While they wouldn’t be wrong, it doesn’t need to be illuminated. Not here.
Folding his arms over his chest, Fenryn adds, “Might be worthwhile to ask why you were around Ves’ quarters that night, Eloric.”
“A demon stands in our midst and you’re concerned about my actions?” Eloric laughs.
“Your actions haven’t resulted in freeing thousands of souls from demonic contracts,” Ryc counters.
“Souls freed only to find death at the hands of undead slippingthrough a torn veil,” Ganus replies. “Ollora isn’t the only city suffering.”
Shock sears through my veins and my eyes snap up, meeting violet ones.
Too late do I realize my mistake.
Hammering pain rips through my skull as a deafening ringing jars my ears. Ganus’ eyes grow wide as I squeeze my eyes shut, cradling my pounding head in my hands.
The relief from both the pain and sound is immediate, but my mind is left hazy and my vision unfocused. I feel as if I’ve been struck a dozen times. An arm wraps about my waist, yanking me backward—chairs fall, blurs of brown clattering against the floor as shouting fills the throne room.
