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I glanced over the hateful expressions on every face around me. I was not among allies here.
No one was on my side.
Dread pooled in my gut. I was going to lose the crown.
Devastation pulsed in my chest at the thought. How strange that, only days ago, I would have given anything to avoid the responsibility of ruling the kingdom.
But now? I was surprised to learn just how much I wanted to hold onto this title. Because I loved my home. I loved my people.
And I knew I could accomplish great things for this kingdom, if given the chance.
“What will you do?” I asked Gorem. “Depose me because I was improper? Dismiss me without a second chance? I have been a captain for five years. A soldier for two decades. I have served my kingdom my entire life. And you’re willing to cast me aside over these petty grievances?” I waved my hand at Ramathos. “Just because I was rude to him for insulting me in the courtyard?”
Ramathos stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Return the witch to her lands, Alaric, and we can move on from this. Do what needs to be done so you can focus on your people.”
Fury roiled through me. “No.”
“Then you leave us no choice,” said Gorem. “With these Mages as my witnesses, I formally petition to have you removed from the throne. You have until Noontide tomorrow to assemble your case and present it to the Council of Elders.”
I sucked in a breath. The Council of Elders consisted of the four chiefs and eight representatives of the oldest noble families on the Isle. They only ruled on the severest criminal cases.
“If you are denied, you will be stripped of your title, and the council will determine your fate,” Gorem said.
The Mages in the room cheered, some spitting in my direction. I straightened, staring hard at Gorem, whose eyes glinted, his smile smug.
He knew. Somehow, he knew I was close to discovering the truth about him.
And now, he was about to get rid of me before I could expose his secrets.
“Shift,” Tavik hissed, his voice full of venom. “Let me tear out his throat. It will be quick.”
But that wouldn’t solve anything. There was a reason Gorem was going about this the proper way. If I crossed any lines, it would only make me look guiltier.
My rage mounted, threatening to boil over. The chasm in my chest seemed to crack open, exposing my organs. My heart. My soul. Everything inside me constricted, and I couldn’t breathe. Darkness clouded my vision. Gods’ breath, I was going to pass out.
It was all too much.
With a grunt of frustration, I turned on my heel and left the room before the turmoil in my chest unraveled me completely.
Thirty-Seven
THE WITCH
My body was bone weary, fatigue dragging at every ounce of me. But worse than that was the heavy lump of emotion in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. Tight knots formed in my stomach, and all I could do was lie in my bed and stare numbly at the wall.
Fiona had popped in briefly to check on me and bring me food. I’d barely been able to mumble two words to her. She helped me dress in a shift and a simple brown dress, and then I had immediately crawled back into bed. At least I was a bit warmer. After asking if there was anything else I needed, she gave me a forlorn look before leaving the room.
“You are wrong, you know,” said Sasha. “What you and Alaric feel is real.”
“And how would you know the difference?” I snapped. “How do you even know what love is?”
I certainly didn’t. I had loved Elvira, but that hadn’t been real, either. That had been a deception. Manipulation.
“I know being with Alaric brings you peace,” Sasha said softly. “He brings you joy. You feel complete when you are with him.”
“That is just the Soulbound connection talking. It’s not real.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”