“Not like-minded enough,” he mutters. “We do not have nearly the subjects we require to solve this puzzle with the prophecy, and the others insist the humans must be sparedbecause of it. Some of them even suggest they should be treated asequals.”
Mother hums thoughtfully, the sound muffled by her wine glass. “Perhaps you could get ahead of them. Search the cities.”
Father’s pacing footsteps pause. “Continue.”
There’s a rustle of fabric as I imagine Mother leaning forward in her chair, and I press my ear against the door to catch her words.
“Put agents in the city that report to Ljómur. Have them scout for hidden mates and give them incentives to find them.” Another slurping sip precedes her hateful laugh. “Hells, you could even circulate a communication that says the mark is deadly. A virus of some sort.”
He hums an approving sound. “Yes, a virus, indeed. That might get them through the doors so my research can continue.”
“Do the others know?” Mother asks.
Father falls silent for a stretch. “About?” he finally prompts.
“Your plans. The reason you want to solve the prophecy.”
Father is quiet again, the click of his shoes tapping across the matching marble inside the room. “If they do, they haven’t indicated as such.”
“Do you think…” Mother begins but trails off, and the pacing stops once more.
“We have had this discussion a thousand times, Olphina. Do not start a thought you aren’t willing to finish. It is beneath you to appear so mindless.”
“Apologies, my love,” she says, and I can picture her practiced, placating smile. “It’s just… if—when,” she quickly corrects, “you solve the mystery of the mates and reopen the portals, would it really be so bad to keep them open?”
Father snorts dismissively. “All these years that Ailynor had to build her army? I won’t give her the chance to cross to this side and take what I’ve built.”
“Ailynor was just a rebel, Zadeus, not a leader like you. Not aking. Do you think she had the sort of power to conquer worlds?”
“She had followers. Loyal ones, and in far greater numbers than a peasant deserter should’ve been able to accumulate. Do you so quickly forget that war was on the horizon? That it was about to march onto our own front lawn?”
“Of course not,” she soothes. “I only meant to suggest that her power and influence would never reach that of yours. You were—youare—a king.”
“Not anymore,” he snarls. “Now I am a mere High Commander, and what’s worse is I share that title with five others who view themselves just as important as me.”
“One day, you will rule them all, my love. We only need to bide our—”
The door creaks as I lean too hard against it, and there’s no time to scramble away before it’s yanked open. My knees slam into the marble, a sharp wail escaping me as pain shoots up my legs.
Father grabs my arm in a bruising grip, fingers digging in like iron claws as he yanks me to my feet so hard my shoulder screams in protest.
“What is the meaning of this, Xenesis?” he snarls, his face inches from mine. The leather of his uniform hits me and forms a ball in my stomach. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“No, sir,” I stammer, shaking my head frantically. “I was playing in the hallway, and—”
“Yourplayingput your ear against my door?” he demands, cutting me off.
I nod, desperate for him to believe the lie as fear coils in my gut.
He sneers. “Lying on top of disobedience? You truly are a disappointment.”
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stutter, my vision blurring with tears that I will to stay inside my eyes. They’ll only make him angrier.
“What is the rule about my office?” he presses, grip tightening until I whimper.
“That… that it is a place for leaders. Important people,” I whisper, voice trembling.
“And are you important?” His eyes bore into mine, cold and mocking.
