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Oh! That was right. Rymedur had a human father. Percival always forgot that. Perhaps because Rymedur carried himself with such grace that Percival forgot he wasn’t a full-blooded elf. The oddity of shadows that seemed to encase his body didn’t help.

Rymedur was indeed a rarity. Not just because of his powers. He was a decent male—man. Rymedur could be downright vicious and brutal when it came to training, but he wasn’t ambitious or cruel like most around them. There was no hidden agenda or self-serving goal. He had genuinely fallen in love with Areanel—Percival could see it in the little things he did for her. There was pride and happiness, buttery and gold, which seemed to radiate off both whenever they were close.

Percival had seen how Rymedur’s entire face lit up when she walked into a room, like Areanel was his favourite person in all of Idyssa.

‘Enough, Eborthorn!’ Percival found himself saying. He turned his gaze towards the male, pinning him in place with his cold, harsh glare—blatantly presenting his outrage to the council. Eyes fell upon him, and he was aware that his normally joyful face had contorted into one of complete wrath.

Sitting across from him, Areanel remained silent, a mask of indifference carefully placed across her features.

Bringing the matter back to hand and the focus away from Percival’s outburst, Prince Sevain stood. ‘How can we stand by while those in need remain helpless, regardless of what they have allegedly done? We should prepare a scouting mission to uncover who was responsible for the fire, and find the chieftain, plus any rebels who may have been involved.’

Lord Faren opened his mouth. ‘But your brother—’

Percival pinned Lord Faren with a glare and held up a hand. He didn’t know if the gesture was meant to prevent him from doing something stupid or to stop Lord Faren from speaking.

His brother, Sevain, pointedly glared at Lord Faren before proceeding. ‘Our brother’s death does not concern this matter, Faren.’

A slight shift at his side drew Percival’s attention. Rymedur tensed in his seat, hands clenching into fists. How odd.

‘Is that understood?’ Sevain’s tone was diplomatic, firm but fair. A show of mercy.

Faren submitted reluctantly, head bowed in apology—yet Percival could see the rage that brewed behind his eyes and wondered what this older male was truly capable of. He hadn’t risen to his position in court by mere chance. None of the councilmen had.

Chapter 10

Areanel

Surveying the hall, Areanel noticed how all her brothers who remained wore grim expressions. She knew exactly what bothered them. It was the same thing that nagged at her every time she entered the Council Hall.

The mention of their lost brother had struck a nerve even she could not shake.

Ivan was a sore subject between the royal siblings. This very hall represented their loss—for all the chairs lining the table, many were now empty due to the war between Andrea and Selcirith.

The seating was a symbol of King Aerileas’s strength and virility—one hundred chairs for his one hundred children. But to the royal children, it was a reminder of what they had lost and still had to lose. Though some chairs would remain empty, the king liked to remind his council what would happen should they ever turn against him: they would have to go through innumerable loyal sons and his only daughter before they ever reached him.

Three chairs to her immediate right drew Areanel’s attention. Two had belonged to her eldest brothers—both lost in the war—and one had belonged to her mother, Queen Vada. A reminder to all of what Selcirith had taken from them: their queen.

The feeling of losing someone so dear had an everlasting effect. It affected them all, but her father had taken the loss severely. Though his face remained unreadable, stoic at times, Areanel had, through much discomfort—and only over the course of many years—learned to decipher what was on the Great King’s mind. She was glad the king was not present now, as she was sure he would have had her kill Lord Faren for his insolence. Just mentioning Ivan usually set him off. Recently, his paranoia seemed to be getting the better of him.

Areanel remained silent as the council resumed its discussion, going back and forth between plans to capture the chieftain and plans to capture the rebels.

Seemingly emboldened by her father’s absence, Lord Eborthorn turned his dull gaze on Areanel. She had still not said a word, instead allowing Sevain to control the narrative. Percival’s outbursts had been unintentional; she was afraid the council would catch on to their plan if he accidentally slipped in his anger again. But as she suspected, the council couldn’t see beyond their own pride.

Lord Eborthorn lifted his hand, and his thick, engraved signet ring caught the light, making his house emblem shine. The polished gold was stark against his wrinkled skin as he gestured toward the space around him. ‘All this discussion about finding culprits. Why? Did the infamous assassin not succeed in tracking down the perpetrators when she initially went to the village? Who is to say it was not you? Did you murder them in their sleep, princess? Or perhaps you ordered that Skin-Walker of yours to do it for you. We know that is not beneath you, witch. What happened to the female who poisoned a city’s water supply and killed its occupants?’

Of course, Eborthorn would see to it that she was ridiculed. Her glare stabbed into the other lords at the table, and their heads bowed low. Good. It seemed only Eborthorn had lost sense. Did he think he was invincible because of his age?

Areanel seethed at the insinuation but remained silent. She had to be an immovable force. Nothing these males said about her mattered.

Eborthorn knew why she was silent.

Unlike her brothers, Areanel understood from a young age that, in front of these lords, she must wear a mask of cold indifference. The council was comprised of males, most of whom had been around since the beginning of King Aerileas’s reign. All had known her mother and shared her sentiment: Areanel was not supposed to be the heir to Aerileas’ throne.

They believed she would be their downfall.

They hated her.

It was no secret she was her father’s favourite. His only daughter, yes, but it was more than that. Areanel was powerful. Too powerful. They knew that, given the opportunity, she would annihilate them. Every. Single. One.