“While it is certainly notyourpriority, it should be one of the king’s,” a female down the table said. “You wish to investigate death scenes without a partner or an heir? If you cross the Veil to the After, what then, your grace?”
He sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose at the same old arguments.
“Your father—” someone else started.
Cethin didn’t even know who was speaking when he interrupted. “My father ruled for centuries without a wife, and they were together for decades more before I was born.”
“Be that as it may, we have a proposal that may satisfy several urgent matters,” Zayan cut in as a staff member refilled Cethin’s glass. “If I may present this proposal to you, your grace?”
He didn’t dare reach for that liquor glass, knowing the dark power he possessed was thickening beneath his palms. With a sharp jerk of his chin, Zayan continued.
“It has long been the tradition of the Sutara kings that their partners be Fae, with the recent exception of your father. With the continued decline in the Fae population as of late, we agree this is even more urgent now. It would show the kingdom that you have a personal interest in the matter.”
“Idohave a personal interest in the matter,” Cethin gritted out. He was only half-listening anyway, too focused on keeping his power in check. “They are part of my kingdom. That is all that is needed for me to have a personal interest.”
“And that is noble. No one is discrediting that, but taking a Fae as a wife would reiterate long-standing alliances,” Hayes piped in. “It would provide reassurance that you are taking the threat against their kind seriously, especially after the last few decades of history and the need to strengthen the laws around taking Sources.”
His jaw clenched. He’d sat in on countless meetings when his father had sat at the head of this table. Nobody had questioned him or spoken down to him. Truth be told, he felt like he had more respect and freedoms as their prince than as their king.
“Beyond all that, it would be beneficial to you as the king and leader of the kingdom to have a wife that could potentially provide a Source of your own. The fact you don’t have oneafter centuries is, quite frankly, troublesome,” another female contributed.
“You are growing rather bold, Lady Odessa,” Cethin ground out, his voice as dark as the power he was working hard to contain.
Everyone straightened, recognizing the edge in his tone. His father had been known to be levelheaded. Strong-willed and uncompromising, yes, but he rarely lost his composure. Cethin was known to be just as strong-willed, but he was also said to have a temper that came with an unfavorable recklessness when he lost control.
It didn’t happen often. He was the epitome of discipline; his mother had ensured it once his power had emerged. Everyone had assumed he’d control the water element like his father—who was a descendant of Anahita, the god of the seas, water, and ice—but his parents had known that wouldn’t be the case, even if they hadn’t known which gifts would emerge.
All of Avonleya knew of his darkness. They all assumed it was the same magic his mother’s shadows had been, except more powerful because of his father’s bloodline. When two Avonleyan bloodlines crossed, the offspring emerged with one side’s power—whichever side was stronger. The other bloodline simply strengthened or weakened that power.
His mother’s shadows were more powerful than his father’s water magic, but his father had been one of the most powerful water-wielders of the realm. All that power merged in Cethin’s soul, and the entire kingdom knew it. Knew his power was vast and mighty. Their kingdom was relatively safe, tucked behind the Wards and locked away from the rest of the realm. But that didn’t mean there hadn’t been threats. That there hadn’t been instances when he’d had to stand beside his father and wield that darkness to assert dominance or answer a threat. It kept him on the throne now and prevented anyone from ever entertainingthe idea of challenging him. No one would take the throne from him and the legacy his bloodline had left to him.
“So your proposal is that I take a Fae wife? That is not a new revelation, Zayan,” Cethin said flatly.
“That is not the entirety of the proposal,” Zayan answered. “The Spring Esbat Festival will commence in a few weeks. We suggest extending a special invitation to all the Fae in the kingdom. You can address them at the Festival, reassure them you are working to ensure their safety. And with all the Fae here, you could perhaps…get to know some of them better.”
An entire minute ticked by, the advisors shifting uncomfortably in their seats as they waited for Cethin to respond to theirproposal.
“You want me to use the Esbat Festival to find a partner,” Cethin said slowly.
“No,” Zayan said quickly, nervously running a hand through his dark blond hair. “We are suggesting you use the festival to reassure the Fae, and if you happen to connect with one on a deeper level, then we would thank the Fates.”
“Perhaps the lot of you should simply narrow it down and present me with a pool of potential partners to choose from,” he replied coolly.
Zayan’s eyes widened, recognizing the dangerous tone, but apparently not everyone at the table picked up on the warning. Not as Lady Odessa muttered under her breath, “As if we haven’t discussed doing that.”
His control slipped, darkness snapping out like whips and dragging down the marble table, leaving long scratches across the smooth surface. The council members lurched to their feet, magic appearing and shields forming to protect themselves.
Cethin leisurely stood, that heavy darkness drifting around him like a dense fog. “I believe we are done here for today.”
“But, your grace, we still have the matter of the vacant advisory seat, and?—”
His gaze slid to Zayan, and he said nothing. He didn’t need to. He knew his face said it all as he stared down the male. Zayan bowed his head as he murmured, “Of course, your grace.”
Cethin didn’t bother saying anything to the others. He left the room with his dark magic trailing him. A reminder to everyone of who he was.
He climbed to the top floor of the castle, the entire level serving as the king’s private quarters. But he was merely there to discard the crown that sat on his brow. Tybalt and Zayan insisted he wear it for council meetings. It was ridiculous.
He unceremoniously tossed the silver thing inlaid with rubies into a velvet-lined box on his dresser before he Traveled from the room. A moment later, he was on the shore he’d been longing for earlier. The waves called to him, the same way they’d called to his father. He could think here with nothing but the sea breeze and the stars overhead.
