“That’s what I like to hear,” Darvanda mumbled.
“You said one of the reasons. What are the others?” I rested against the rock face, my energy depleted.
He tipped his chin down—the moon’s light outlined the harsh lines of his face.
“Let’s see if you can accomplish this for me first.”
I ground my teeth. “I’m doing this for the people up there. You? You have nothing to do with it.”
“We’ll see.”
I huffed in frustration, feeling my brow pinch. “What makes you so sure I give two shits about what happens to you personally?”
He stared down at me, unmoved by my sharpness. “Your hastened breath. The way you look at me. It’s only a matter of time before you try to—how did you put it? ‘Fuck me or filet me’?It will be interesting to see which you attempt first.”
Stifling a growl, I turned on my heel and began climbing the rocky wash.
He was wrong.
Admitting your ancestors’ enemy was attractive was one thing. Warming your bed with them was another. That was a line that wouldn’t be crossed.
I knew he’d been trying to rattle me. It had worked.
Chapter 11
Emmerick
Crowds gathered outside the Sun Temple in Helos. As soon as the heavy golden crown was lowered onto my head, they cheered. The Lynx formed a protective row at the bottom of the steps. The horrid rat-faced, feline-like creatures roared.
The bell tower rang in celebration of a new King.
I looked to Barden and Haward, Sybilla’s cousins. They’d come to petition thattheyshould be my advisors.
“I’m ready to return to the castle,” I told them.
Hundreds of North Corridor guards escorted us back to the mechanical lift, which pulled us up the mountain in a sickening, jolting manner. Perched atop the highest peak of the Hussa Mountains, Helos Castle was a marvel. Towers stretched up into the clouds, and the granite stone shined with dew.
I didn’t remember making my way to the dining hall; my mind was too dazed with the feeling of metal at my temples and the weight of dozens of eyes gaping at me as we passed. I’d alwaysbeen partial to Luz’s silver and royal blue. Everything here was black and gold.
Too much gold.
A feast had been prepared and laid out before me on a long gilded table lined with faces that I barely knew.
Most royal heirs grew up knowing they would one day rule—they were prepared and excited for this moment. Conversation hummed around me. It felt wrong to sit in the chair of a man I’d never even met.
“Emmerick,” Amara greeted.
My birth mother sat to my left. Next to her sat Angeline, my mother by all other standards. She was the woman who’d raised me as a baker’s son turned Knight—she would always hold the title of Mama. My father had stayed in Luz to help with the grounds after the attack. He’d been the groundskeeper there for thirty-five years and stayed devoted even as his body protested.
Mama leaned over Amara and squeezed my arm, reassuring me. “You’ve done well.”
This had just begun. I’d done nothing yet. Aside from accepting the throne of theMad King,who had let Firose lead him to war.
The ashes of King Mattock, my birth father, were somewhere in the tombs below this gaudy castle. Forks scraped against plates; bottles were drained.
I didn’t know how much time had passed, but the lords were drunk on mead, and Sybilla’s cousins seemed to have them wrapped around their grubby fingers.
“Not hungry?” Amara asked, staring down at my full plate.
