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She just had to wait for the right moment. Just like she did with Titus, the General who had preceded her.

The lords were always looking for an excuse to put Areanel down. They had rejoiced when King Aerileas, her own father, had sentenced her to The Pit. That taste of submission had only encouraged them to find a way to destroy her—even if that meant working with each other.

She had to tread carefully.

Areanel knew these parasites were waiting for her to slip up. She also knew that anything she said in this chamber, without her father’s presence, these lords would try to find a way to dismiss. Even if it was the most logical option.

She had a choice to make: be merciful, or stay her course and continue mercilessly.

Except she didn’t need to. Eborthorn made the choice for her with his next words. ‘What else should we expect from the female who would murder her predecessor in cold blood?’ He gestured that withered hand to the medals upon her shoulders. The ones that represented her title. The lord grew bolder with every word, inching closer as he gripped the edge of the table, his tone dripping in venom. ‘Drenched in blood. Death follows your every step, Princess of Andrea. So much so, you weren’t even given a name.’

Areanel found herself mirroring his crooked smile, but it was almost a vicious sneer.

Chapter 11

Rymedur

Almost two decades ago…

The day he dreaded had arrived: the day he was meant to marry the daughter of Aerileas, the Great King of Andrea.

What bullshit!

Rymedur lingered. Hidden behind the tall pillar, wariness itched at his spine as he used his shadows to encase him in darkness. Keeping himself close to the door in case he needed a quick escape, he waited and watched as the Andrean princess decorated herself with an assortment of jewels.

This marriage was nothing but a sham. A compromise. A false sense of security between both kingdoms. A treaty meant to join together two families, two kingdoms.

But Rymedur knew what it really was—this was Aerileas’s way of silencing them. A proverbial boot placed on their necks to prevent Selcirith from retaliating the murder of their previous king.

His uncle was a fool for making a deal with Aerileas. Rymedur knew how much Killian had wanted to be king, but now that he was? What had it cost him? Subjected to Aerileas’s whims and desires, the once-proud southern kingdom of Selcirith was now being openly humiliated with this marriage. Rymedur would be forced to live in Andrea, stripping Selcirith of its Commander.

But what he was most concerned about was his mother. How could he leave her all alone while he lived in Andrea with his new wife? The word felt bitter on his tongue.

‘Will you hide in the shadows forever, my would-be assassin?’

The feminine voice, strong but firm, shook Rymedur out of his thoughts. Was she addressing him? No. That would be impossible; his shadows concealed him from all. But the eyes that met his in the mirror were filled with a deeper emotion—a hidden despair—as they pierced him.

This gave Rymedur pause. How had he been caught? She shouldn’t have been able to see him. This had never happened before; even his own mother struggled to find him when he within his shadows. They usually concealed him from all eyes. But the sapphire gaze acted as though his shadows weren’t even there, connecting with his eyes where their gazes clashed.

Emerald met cobalt for the first time, and Rymedur’s breath caught. The gems that stared back at him were the most breathtaking he’d ever seen.

No. Stop.

He had to physically shake his head to rid himself of his muddled thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Tightening his grip around his weapon until his knuckles turned bone-white, Rymedur squared his shoulders and stepped out of his shadows, commanding them away.

‘I’m the assassin?’ His wary tone still held an accusatory edge. ‘You killed a man in his own bed.’

In a whirl of navy-blue fabric, his wife-to-be turned to face him.

‘Did that male—’ She stressed the word, somehow simultaneously reminding Rymedur of his place beneath her royal blood. The thought angered him. ‘Not knowingly send you and your troops into slaughter when he knew full well you would be ambushed and killed?’

She spoke of the former King of Selcirith and his presumed actions like she knew them as fact. No hesitation. No doubt. What did she know that he didn’t?

‘Why do you defend him now?’

How was she able to use nothing but her words to strike a blow? Rymedur would’ve been impressed had his pride not taken over. But he could still silently admire the way she strategically wielded her words like a blade.

Taking sure steps forward, until he towered over her on the raised platform before a long length mirror, Rymedur tucked a hand into his pocket—but only because he had the sudden urge to move the small wisps of hair that framed her face. Dammit, what had gotten into him? Even his shadows reached for her. It took tremendous will to keep them at bay.