Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed and accessing my father’s study to find the book I needed. If I were going to consider looking past the shame of her family name, I had to know exactly what I was up against. I wouldn’t blindly court a woman without knowing her or her family’s past.
Pushing the door open, I scanned the room, considering the years I’d sat inside with my father. Admonishments were doled out for not conducting myself in the correct manner. Lashings, both physical and mental, were beaten into me repeatedly in that room. I'd both grown up and been cut down in that room.
The stale air from the books on the shelf reminded me of the cruel memories each time I walked through the door. It was the reason I avoided the library and always requested tomes be brought to me instead of going to them. Even walking the corridor leading to the study made my heart race and caused sweat to drip from my brow.
I took a seat at my father’s desk and rummaged through thesmall stack of books on the right. My hands worked diligently, looking for the one I needed. With the increase in executions in the last twenty years, we had filled books at an alarming rate. Though I’d attended every execution since the age of ten, I could never have kept track of each one.
I pulled open the top drawer and found what I needed:Rivale Records of Execution. I flipped to the first page to ensure the year was correct and then eyed the last entry. They’d stopped over eighteen months ago when my father declared a stay. He hadn’t given a reason to the public, but rumors suggested it was because of his failing health, and they were right.
Seeing my father in such a fragile state was when it truly hit me; he was dying. The realization forced me to begin a serious search for my mate. Ironically, she’d likely been close by, watching her brother die in the public square for all to see. Though my father didn't perform the executions himself, he had ordered her brother's death, which made me wonder if she hated him just as much as I did.
Knuckles rapped on the door, interrupting my thoughts. “Come in,” I called out.
“Your Highness.” A female guard poked her head in and advised, “Captain Vexley has arrived and is waiting.”
Standing, I slid the book under my arm. I would look at it more closely later.
Vexley stood as I walked into the room. “Your Highness.” He dipped his chin, appearing nervous, which was completely out of character for the fear-inspiring male.
“Thank you for coming.” I took my seat and poured wine into the glass in front of me. “I know it was short notice.”
Vexley shifted on his chair.
“I have a matter to discuss with you?—”
“The attack today, sir. We didn’t have intel leading us to expect there’d be an ambush,” he continued. “If we had, Iwould’ve provided the information immediately—given it to you before you went into the center of the capital.”
“I actually want to speak about a different matter. It’s one that needs to remain between the two of us.” I looked to him for confirmation. And when he dipped his scruffy chin in acknowledgment, I continued. “Audryn Clair is the woman I intend to marry. However.” I paused and drained the glass before continuing. “Her brother was executed. He was a member of the resistance.”
Vexley’s brows knitted together as he took in the information. He looked just as bothered by the news as I was.
“I need to know if she’s in the book, whether associated or active.” I filled my glass and drew in a deep breath. “You will never speak of this again, and we must resolve the situation swiftly, whatever the result.”
“I understand.” Vexley opened the book he almost always kept on hand. I sat nervously as he thumbed through it, landing toward the front, where names were listed in alphabetical order.
My heart raced as his finger ran down the page before he turned the sheet. He repeated the move several times before he landed on a spot straight in the middle of the paper. His fingers lingered as he read what was laid out in front of him. Waiting with bated breath, I watched his eyes track across the page several times.
“There are four names listed here.” Vexley looked up at me, then back down at the book. “Kamden Clair, Kenelm Clair, Emalia Clair, and Audryn Clair.”
“Kamden is her brother, Kenelm her father, and Emalia must be her mother—though Audryn hasn’t told me anything about her,” I pondered aloud. Why hadn’t I pushed her for more information about her family? I hadn’t even considered Maris and Allura’s past beyond what they’d shared.
“Kenelm was cleared of suspicion. It’s noted he was injured trying to stop Kamden’s execution, beaten and sustained brokenbones in his left leg and hip. Your father ordered him to recover without the use of magic. And we’ve monitored him, but deemed him neutral.”
“Continue.” I dipped my chin and waited.
“Emalia was found dead at her residence six months after her son’s execution. She was never suspected of any connection to the resistance.” Vexley finished.
“What were the circumstances of her death?”
He shook his head, and pursed his lips. “We don’t have that. Only states the family buried the body in an unknown location.”
“I don’t need the information on Kamden, I have access to it.” I patted the book in front of me. “What about Audryn?”
I held my breath as his eyes ran over the paper once more. What he was about to say would tell me which turn my life would take.
“She’s listed as neutral, though it does state …” He chewed on his bottom lip. “She’s been very hostile with the Rivale Guard. We have multiple contentious interactions noted.”
I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
