“Are you going to sit?” he finally asked, motioning to the chair across from him. I glanced behind me at my guards and nodded for them to keep an eye on Gaven and the door. Kalen and I had made a vow to each other, but that didn’t necessarily extend to anyone else.
Of course, as fucked up as my father had been, he’d taught me a lot of things about surviving in Aesir. For one, you should never let your enemy taste your unease. And so, with a bored smile, I yanked out the chair and sat.
“This better be good, Gaven,” I said, scraping my hand along my thickening beard. Most fae didn’t approve of facial hair, but I’d become fond of it myself. Mostly because it would have irritated my father. “I came all the way here at the expense of Albyria’s rebuild.”
Gaven just stared at me with those calculating eyes. Out of all the members of Kalen Denare’s Mist Guard, Gaven was the least well-known. He carried no weapons, which suggested he had elite powers. That, or he was a useless fighter. I knew better than to assume the latter.
“As I said in my message,” he finally said, cutting through the tense silence, “Morgan has been asking for you. Insistently. Any idea why?”
“We were never particularly close,” I answered, kicking one leg over the other and leaning back in the chair. It creaked beneath my weight, as loud as thunder in the quiet of the meeting room. “She answered to my father.”
Gaven arched a perfectly trimmed brow. “You’re his firstborn son.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised your king is passing that information around like the town’s gossip.”
“I’d hardly call information about the enemy gossip.”
“Am I your enemy? And here I thought we’d put aside our differences to ally against the returning gods.”
Gaven smiled and laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back with his boots still on the table. “You brought four guards into this room with you when I’m in here all by my lonesome. Is that the behavior of an ally?”
I lifted my hand and signaled my guards, even knowing, deep down, I was falling right into his trap. He’d given me no choice but to send them away or else shatter this tenuous peace. Truth was, if he was as powerful as I suspected, he could kill us all without even breaking a sweat.
“Go on,” I said to my guards. “Wait for me outside.”
Heavy footsteps echoed through the room, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. I tried to still the pounding of my heart, hoping Gaven’s hearing wasn’t keen enough to hear it. I was alone with a potential enemy now. One far more powerful than me.
“So the truth is,” Gaven began, kicking his boots off the table and leaning toward me with his elbows digging into the wood, “we’ve put Morgan into one of our dungeon cells.”
I sat up a little straighter. “What? Why?”
“Your father had a tight grip on her for hundreds of years. She was forced to follow his every command, which eventually led her to betray us. We thought she’d found a way around his orders in secret, but eventually, he found out.”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “He was always very good at yanking information out of anywhere it might be hiding. Morgan did well to last as long as she did without getting caught. But…” I sucked in a small breath to keep my voice steady. “My father is dead now. Morgan is no longer forced to follow his every whim.”
“He could have passed the vow on to someone else,” Gaven countered. “Like you, for example.”
I laughed, a deep-throated bellow that I felt within my bones. “My father never passed anything to me. Not his crown, not his wealth, and certainly not the most ‘loyal’ servant he ever had. They had a very twisted relationship, but in his own way, he did care for her. He’d never want anyone else to have her, least of all me.”
My heart was roaring in my chest now, and I had to clamp my teeth shut to keep from saying more. I’d said too much already, let my emotions cloud my judgement and spill out of my mouth like a deluge of shit. Gaven tapped the table, and nothing in his expression shifted at all, but he knew—he knew. Inside, I was shouting at the wind, desperate for my rage to be heard, rage I’d always tamped down. My father had never wanted any of us, but my mother had. And of course he’d given in to her. She’d been the only one he had always bowed to, no matter what she asked.
Gaven finally sighed and sat back. “Then why, pray tell, is she demanding to see you?”
I held up my hands. “I have no idea.”
He sniffed at the air. “Did you know we have a few half mortals here in Endir? Quarter mortals, too. We’re a mixed bag, really. In some of them, we can scent lies. Strangely enough, though, we can’t in others. I suppose it’s one of those traits that’s passed down, or it’s not.”
“I’m afraid, for your sake, I’m not one who inherited that trait. No one can scent my lies.”
He arched a brow. “Interesting. You could have pretended you had it. Make me believe everything you just told me is true.”
“Everything I told youistrue.”
Gaven nodded, shoved back his chair, and stood. “All right, King Ruari Emed—or is that what I should call you?”
My shoulders tightened. “Just Ruari for now.” I had returned our city to my people, but they didn’t consider me their king. Yet.
“Well, Ruari, let’s go find out what Morgan wants with you.”
