Page 51 of Ruling the Green

“Of course not. They have no idea what it takes to rule this kingdom.”

I ladled more soup into Serin’s bowl.

“But they all want it. All think they can take it from me by force. Every last one of those motherfuckers!” He enunciated that with a knife tip to the ancient tabletop.

The anger was always a good way to send him into one of his manic moods. Pretty soon, pieces of cutlery and plates would go flying.

“Cass,” a voice called, making ice slide down my spine.

Of course.

That bastard was never far away.

Before my father’s descent into madness, Tove, his advisor, had been steadily on his way out of Cass’s favor. He was just a few years older than me, tall, fit, and intimidating-looking for such a parchment-pusher.

Unfortunately, he, like me, knew how to play to my father’s weaknesses and gain his favor.

Now, he was who my father trusted the most. And who handled him when he was getting out of control. He was cunning, calculating, and the biggest threat to my future plans.

“I need to discuss some… important business with you.”

He didn’t.

He wanted to get my father into his office where no one would be able to witness his outbursts.

Just this once, I wasn’t going to weasel my way in. Not with Serin to worry about.

The guards filed out with my father and Tove.

Vishen waited a moment before striding to the door, looking out, then closing it behind him.

“Eat,” I invited, waving to the food. “Before Serin eats it all.”

She looked over, cheeks puffed with food, making a laugh escape me.

And, fuck, it felt good to laugh.

There hadn’t been much to find joy in the past few years. Or, you know, my whole life.

“I didn’t know food could be hot,” she said as she chewed. “Or vegetables soft.”

“Most fae aren’t big fans of cooked food. My father almost exclusively serves it because it is uncommon.”

“How can you not like it?” she asked, reaching for more bread. “Do you think Nira has had this… this…”

“Soup,” I supplied. “I don’t know. Do they have soup in the military?” I asked Vishen.

“Maybe if someone in the same regiment was good enough a cook to do it. But usually not.”

“Can we bring some up for her?”

“You can do anything you want.”

“Ugh,” she grumbled, sitting back, her face twisted.

“What’s wrong?”

“My stomach. It feels… strange.”