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Taking a knee before the desk, Areanel placed her right fist over her heart and bowed to her father, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence.

Fucking customs! Couldn’t they come up with something that didn’t make her knees ache? All this posturing was starting to get on her last fucking nerve. She knew Aerileas held all the power and didn’t need the reminder.

King Aerileas—her father—stood before the large arched window overlooking the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back as he stared down at the people passing by. Areanel peeked around his figure, spying her brothers jog across the courtyard, their weapons in tow.

Stoic. That was the expression he wore. Even as he watched the princes—his sons—cross to the training grounds. Didn’t the sight of his sons bring him any form of emotion? Joy? Pride?

Areanel smiled ear to ear, heart brimming, if she caught even a glimpse of her children.

Her aching knees groaned. Areanel wanted nothing more than to forget the tradition. If he wasn’t even going to acknowledge her, she should just leave! But something had her frozen to the spot. Was that unnerving feeling in her chest shame or fear?

‘Selyë,’ King Aerileas finally greeted her.

Areanel lifted from the ground. A click had her face pinching in a wince as she adjusted her stance to accommodate her knees. Again, she ignored the faint chill of a presence brushing against her mental barrier—Winter was becoming more persistent, pawing at the wall Areanel had put between herself and her bonded, as if they could feel her anxieties.

‘You summoned me, Ada.’ Not a question. A fact. A reminder that she was not here because she wanted to be.

Aerileas gave a wordless hum in response, and the sound travelled through the room like a buzzing fly, yet he still glared out of the window. Watching. Waiting. But, for what? ‘You met with the prisoner. What did he tell you?’

‘He refused to speak, Ada. I had to use some alternative methods.’ Her words were picked with caution. Carefully chosen and crafted to gauge his reaction—but he gave none, simply nodding his head ever so slightly in order for her to continue.

Anxiety scraped the back of her neck. What did he already know? One wrong word, a slip of the tongue, could mean another punishment. She may have said she could handle it, but she knew in her bones that another beating would most likely break her.

‘He believes we are heretics.’ Areanel chose her words as if she were stepping through a minefield. ‘He admitted to being part of the rebellion, but I suspect he was a foot soldier at best. His only job was to kill as many of us as they could, disrupt the move from Vennedove and secure the villagers.’

‘And did you believe him?’

‘He explained that the only way to purify this world of monsters like us is to target the source.’ Areanel let out a derisive scoff. They were the monsters. ‘I believe he has complete faith in their cause. According to the prisoner, they believe we use dark magic to ensure subjugation. Claiming the rebellion has proof of this and…’

Aerileas’s spine straightened; his posture became more fixed and rigid as she spoke. Had she spoken out of turn? Areanel paused as her mind ran a mile a minute.

Quickly making up her mind, Areanel chose not to reveal what the prisoner had said about being responsible for Resmundur’s death. It was the right choice. It had to be. Bringing attention to her own purpose for chasing down the rebels would give him another reason to think of her as weak. No. She needed evidence before making that claim. And she could handle the rebels herself. ‘The prisoner declared that with this proof, the rebels are going to recruit more and turn other kingdoms against Andrea. They plan to reveal what it is during the meeting for the treaty before all the delegates.’

‘Then they will be in attendance?’

‘Ada, if they do this,’ Areanel continued, ‘and succeed, it will start another war before you have a chance to negotiate new terms. The rebels intend to spread rumours of ambition amongst the aristocracy. Mainly yours. They will be able to convince the populace that you are slowly encroaching on their territories with the idea that you will eventually rule all of Idyssa. Especially with the new territories added to the treaty. It will endorse their claims.’

‘And what of this proof they claim to have?’ Aerileas asked without acknowledging what she had said. ‘What did he say it was?’

There was a beat of silence. Should she tell him the truth? Again, that anxiety had a tremor race through her body. She couldn’t deny him. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’ Aerileas whirled in her direction so fast she had just caught the blur of his movements before he stopped in front of her.

Her spine turned rigid. ‘The prisoner also claims that the former Chieftain of Vennedove had an alliance.’ The words tumbled out of her mouth. All she needed was a saving grace—something her father could latch on to.

And it worked. Aerileas’s head cocked to the side, intrigued. Good. Now all she needed to do was keep his curiosity, and hopefully it would allow her to keep her head. ‘An alliance,’ he hummed. ‘With whom?’

‘The rebellion.’ Areanel swallowed the boulder that had lodged itself in her throat. ‘He professed that the chieftain was a known gambler. In a bid for more money, the chieftain allowed rebels to take refuge in the village and use it as a nexus between hideouts. He used the extra income to personally visit the more questionable establishments in Cal Cathlar’s capital city, Alabasus. We have gathered intel that he is hiding in one of the halls in the lower part of the city. Ryyen has sent eyes to watch the chieftain. After all, he is renowned for his gambling and increasing debts. The prisoner also claims that the money from the rebellion has been used to clear those debts, and that is how the chieftain was able to hide among his fellow high rollers.’

Areanel examined her father’s features. His countenance remained unchanged, and she huffed a breath of frustration at the sudden realisation. ‘But you already knew that, didn’t you?’ Of course, he fucking did! So why had she wasted her time questioning the prisoner?

‘Well done, Selyë.’ There it was again. That word. That stupid pet name she hated so much! Selyë. Daughter. Like she needed the reminder!

Of course he had known. Of course this was a fucking test—another way to see if she was capable after her recent failings.

Red was a colour Areanel was seeing more often—be it blood or anger. It didn’t matter. It was always red.

Aerileas took a step closer, and she tried her best not to flinch when he raised his hands. Gods, what was he going to do now? She had passed his little test. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her. Right?