“What?” Leap practically shouted the words. “You mean to tell us you consulted Quye, and yet you’re still treating us like criminals?”
“Youarecriminals,” Uncle Oren snapped, his predatory eyes flashing. He bared his teeth at Leap, the fury in his gaze so intense that Leap took an involuntary step back. “Quye might have confirmed that you aren’t spies, but that doesn’t absolve you of your crimes against the realm, or the abandonment of your royal duties. Since Mavlyn is your friend, I have to assume that she shares your moral proclivities.” He practically spat the last word before he turned back to Mavlyn. “Now. My nephew says that you were in the castle the night Adara killed King Aolis. Tell me what you saw.”
The room went silent as Mavlyn recounted the events of that fateful night. Even Leap listened intently—he’d never gotten a full account of what transpired that night either, just the salient details, as he and Mavlyn had been preoccupied with finding Adara, and then Quye.
Goosebumps raced across his skin as Mavlyn described how Adara had combined forces with Einar to kill Aolis, consuming his entire body in her magical flames until there was nothing left but ash, and then how, from those ashes, the shadow demon had risen to take possession of Gelsyne’s body.
“So General Slaugh admitted to being in cahoots with this shadow demon the entire time?” Uncle Oren demanded.
“Yes,” Mavlyn said. “King Aolis was too resistant to the shadow demon’s demands, so they set Adara up to kill him so she could find a more pliable host instead.”
“Now I understand why Slaugh is making his move for the throne,” Uncle Oren muttered, his gaze darkening. “With the shadow demon’s backing, he probably thinks he’s invincible.” His upper lip curled in disgust. “How did you escape?”
“We almost didn’t,” Mavlyn admitted. “Nox ordered Slaugh and his guards to kill us, but the three hostages Aolis kept from the other kingdoms intervened. They attacked the shadow guard and kept them occupied so we could make our escape.”
The blood drained from Uncle Oren’s face, and he gripped the edges of his desk hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. “Tempest,” he said hoarsely. “My daughter.”
Leap flinched at the raw agony in his uncle’s eyes. If his uncle had given even a tenth of a damn about him—
“What happened to the hostages?” Ryker’s voice cracked through the room, his spade-like jaw clenched tight. “Do you know if my sister survived?”
Mavlyn’s expression softened, pity in her eyes. “I don’t know. I only know that she and the others made it possible for us to escape.”
Uncle Oren and Ryker fell silent as they processed this news, the only sound in the room that of the secretary’s quill scratching against her parchment. The two looked stricken, but Leap couldn’t say he shared the sentiment. He’d never met Tempest, after all—she’d been sent to King Aolis as a hostage when Leap’s parents had still been alive.
“She could still be alive,” Ryker said after a long moment. “We don’t know—”
“My spies tell me that Cascada showed up at Usciete yesterday, alive and unharmed,” Uncle Oren snapped. “I assumed Tempest would follow suit, yet the only news I’ve received from General Slaugh is that obnoxious declaration of his intention to take the throne.” Fury mottled Oren’s pale skin, and cracks formed on the mahogany desk, spreading out from the tips of his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Mavlyn said. “I wish I knew more.”
Uncle Oren shook his head, his expression a thundercloud of dark emotion. “You’re dismissed. Both of you.”
Mavlyn didn’t need to be told twice. She turned on her heel almost immediately, and Leap made to follow her. But before he could, Ryker gripped his wrist, pulling him to a stop.
Slowly, he turned to meet his cousin’s predatory gaze.
“You and I have much to catch up on, Leap,” Ryker said in a soft tone. “You’ll make some time for me this evening, won’t you?”
Helpless rage ripped through Leap, so potent he nearly choked on it. He ripped his arm from Ryker’s grasp and stormed through the door, oblivious to the concerned look Mavlyn sent him over her shoulder.
One foot in front of the other,he reminded himself, just as he had all those years ago during those long midnight walks back to his rooms. When his entire body had screamed in pain, his throat so raw he could barely speak, his eyes so waterlogged he had no tears left to spare.
One. Foot. In front. Of the other.
20
Einar
“No.”
My growl echoed through the room, causing the water fae to swing their heads toward me in unison. Belatedly, I realized that I’d leapt to my feet, my hands bunched into fists at my side, fangs puncturing my lower lips and making blood gush down like my chin.
I probably looked like the crazed dragon monster these fae thought I was, but I didn’t care.
Adara wasnotmarrying Prentis.
“No?” Lady Axlya raised her eyebrows at me. Her expression was almost bored, but I wasn’t fooled—there was a clear glint of amusement in her eyes, and I knew she took great pleasure in my rage. “As much as I appreciate your feelings on the matter, Einar, you are not the one who is being asked to marry my nephew.” She glanced over at Adara. “My granddaughter is. And she’s yet to give her answer.”
