I run my hands down my thighs, trying to soothe my muscles. Galen thinks I’m trying to seduce him. “What does it feel like to know the war has finally come to your doorstep?”
I kick off one of my shoes. Dirt from the field falls onto my floor.
“My borders are clear,” he defends.
“Is that why you called in your reserve army?” I chuckle. “Unlike before, the battle is here; you have no excuse to hide within your walls and plan. Do you think sprinkling roses over a charging army will stop them? Will you stop and smell the roses before they drive a sword through your heart?”
My brow practically meets my hairline. His face turns the color of the blood he’s addicted to.
“Your men will want you to prove your worth. That’s why you forced Vice Admiral Adrian and Titus to return,” I point out, and the skin around his nose pinches. “Your men were too fond of them on the battlefield. You forced them here to drink wine and act drunk, so your men would see they were not gods, just warriors with good aim.”
His clenched fist betrays his temper, but I’m not finished.
“Wars don’t topple kings, Galen. Doubt does. It’s written all over your handsome face. Apprehension will be what claims your crown. Your men distrust you, and you cannot keep them safe. First, Titus was attacked, then your blood was poisoned, now your bodyguard is murdered.” My gaze sweeps over the room. “Your walls are crumbling. Smell that? No more roses, just shit-filled air. Death is coming. Someone as pampered as you will gag at the stench. Me? I’ll survive. I’m used to nightmares—I’m married to you.”
His left eye twitches. Why did he touch his crown again? Haven’t I proved symbols won’t save him?
“You could chain it to your head, but they’re just cut your neck from your shoulders,” I boast.
“Shut up!” he snaps.
I swing my legs up and flex my toes slowly. “Next time you wake up, take a moment to enjoy the sunrise.” I peer out the window in my room. “It might be your last.”
In a fury, he’s at my side; the bed is no longer under me. “You think you can address me in such a tone?” He spits as he holds me firm.
He jerks, caught off guard when my palms frame his face. “It’s not the tone that offends you, but rather the truth painted before your eyes. You don’t love your people, Galen. You love metal formed into crowns and stones carved into walls. You love material items that will soon be stripped away from you.
“Perhaps if you loved your people, you could have held onto them; better yet, they would have held onto you.” I drop my hands, knowing it will be the last time I touch his face.He knows I’ll never accept him again.
That is what he craved. My acceptance. The prey lying with the predator.
My body hits the bed with a thud. Galen grabs his collar and tugs it high as he looks down at me. “It’s not a king’s job to love, but to rule.”
“A king’s job is to be dutiful. You don’t know the definition of duty. It defines both loving and ruling.”
Titus knows; that’s why he’s going to be a good king and not a corrupt one.
“If you were a good king, you would have understood that long ago.”
“I’m a great king.” He puffs his chest wide.
“Galen,” I groan, “kings are not the ones who write history. When they die, everything they built can be torn down and rewritten. Once you perish, you will be known for what you truly are. All the nobles who kiss your ass will be the first to burn your memoirs. The people you stomped on shall raise both feet and hands to topple what you built.”
“At least I had memoirs to burn. You have nothing.”
Wrong. I have a mate. I have everything.
Galen knows he fucked up by entrusting Sable over me. There is nothing he can do to rectify the situation. He has to fight, but I know his ending thanks to my brother.
He releases a long exhale. “You know why I put up with your tongue, Selene?”
“Because I tell you what your men don’t.”
“That’s right. See, you think you’re tearing me down. But it’s the opposite. You help motivate me. I will win this war. I will eradicate your home and your people from history. Then, I will use their bones to build a new castle, one that reaches the clouds; I shall place you inside a cage made of their ashes. Forever my pet, who loves to bite the hand that feeds it.” His triumphant smirk is so tight it pulls his shoulders back as he strides to the door.
“Bones and ash do not scare me, Galen.”
He glances over his shoulder, searching for what does.
