“I’d rather make a deal with you than go near Olav’s wrinkly dick.” My words are blunt, but they strike something within him.
A flicker of bemusement ripples across his stoic features. He chuckles softly under his breath. It catches me off guard. The laugh is harsh and has a slight bite to it, like striking steel against stone. Some nearby Elvarrans snicker at my words, making offhand, vulgar comments in the distance.
“Crass, Princess,” Wrath replies. “Your father wants to wed you for a failing alliance?”
“He’s punishing me for not marrying the inbred Prince of Oderris.” I continue with my candid rant, dropping the royal formalities for a more authentic tone.
I can see the wheels turning in his mind with a malevolent fascination as I feed him information. Every exchange is a game. He is an unassailable fortress of conviction. Wrath saunters around my side, and I remain facing forward. Even after he steps away, his presence lingers on my skin like heat that won’t fade.
“The army stationed in Liora. How strong is it?” He turns the conversation away from me, a calculated move.
I must be cautious; the wrong answer can lead to many lives lost. Valentin frequently uses the town of Liora as a staging point for attacks due to its closeness to the northern border. I try to think of a good diversion, but something tickles the back of my throat. My windpipe suddenly closes up. It burns like wildfire, forcing me to speak.
“They use it to draw out your kind—” I choke out against my will, a hand flying to my chest. “You’re using magic on me!” I whirl to face him, a flurry of shock and anger filling me.
“Please answer quickly, Princess,” Wrath says calmly.
“And what if I don’t?” I scowl back.
“When you agreed to answer my questions, you agreed to answer them truthfully.” Wrath continues to pace around me, like a predator stalking its prey. “The magic can tell when you’re skating around the truth.”
Yielding is inevitable. I am experiencing firsthand what it is like to face the blade, and I may not escape with my life. Wrath demands compliance, leaving little room for resistance. His magic is a power that rank cannot bestow.
“Who else is Cathros in an alliance with?” Wrath continues his line of questioning.
“Oderris.”
“Avelisar, Cathros, and Oderris…” he muses.
After Nythara fell, the remaining human kingdoms dwindled in strength. Avelisar is barely scraping by. I don’t know how much longer the Southern Alliance will hold. Cathros is practically holding up the entire south on its own, our ‘allies’ infrequently helping us in return.
“When was the last correspondence with Erynthe?” he asks.
“I don’t know—” The itch starts again, suffocating my breath and crawling beneath my skin. “Erynthe recently sent rations to Liora,” he forces me to say.
“Why?”
“I have heard whisperings of a plan to seal the island off to outsiders, but they are rumors,” I reply hesitantly, hoping the magic would let that one slide.
“Do you believe these rumors?”
“No.” I shake my head. “What kingdom would be stupid enough to attempt to stand alone when you’re thrashing about?”
I am walking right into Wrath’s trap, giving him information about my kingdom in exchange for nothing. He can kill me after interrogating me and lay siege to the castle, ending us all in one fell swoop. I can’t let that happen. Not to Lydia, or Eleanor, or Valentin.
“Thrashing?” His brow arches.
“I believe this is more than a few questions, King Wrath,” I say firmly.
Wrath glances to his right, locking eyes with an Elvarran who looks similar to the king. The man has the same high cheekbones and grey eyes as Wrath, but is slightly more muscular and broader in build. He scratches at his beard absently as he stands leaning into one hip, his expression unamused. Long, pointed ears sprout from his black hair. The left ear is missing a large chunk close to his head.
“This is a terrible idea, brother,” the Elvarran deadpans. “Kill her and be done with it.”
“Always a stickler, Barnham…” Wrath’s voice trails off as he turns back to me. “Butnevera visionary,” he says under his breath so quietly that only I could hear.
“If you don’t return me to the castle soon, every soldier in the royal army will be in these woods searching for me,” I threaten.
Wrath makes a sound comparable to a low growl. “How many?”
