Page 61 of To Bleed A Kingdom

Shutting her eyes, she exhales an audible breath through her nostrils, staying that way for several moments until her eyes suddenly snap open. Her features harden to stone as she slowly pivots to face Kiora.

“You find this behavior to be acceptable? Because he is your brother, he may do as he wishes without consequence?” Adelphia questions sharply.“How would you like it if a male touched you without permission?”

Kiora stares blankly, her lack of empathy towards her brother's victims more than apparent from her bland expression. “I demand he be released at once.”

“You demand?” Adelphia laughs, a harsh sound that abruptly cuts off when she hisses, “You will demand nothing of me.”

But Kiora refuses to back down. “My father -”

“I am the Queen!” Adelphia cuts in, stalking towards Kiora, her hand pressed against her chest.“Not your father. Not you. Me.” Adelphia’s face shutters, an apathetic mask slipping into place as she smooths her palms down the front of her gown. Turning her back on Kiora with a regal twirl, she drifts toward the chair at the head of the table and seats herself. “You will remember your place, Kiora. I stand by Darius' sentencing.”

Kiora boldly glares at the Queen before whirling on her feet and moving towards the door.

“Did I dismiss you?” Adelphia asks coolly, pouring herself a glass of wine.

Hand pausing above the door handle, Kiora slowly pivots to face Adelphia. “May I please,” she says through clenched teeth, “be excused?”

Adelphia cocks her head to the side and smiles sweetly. “Of course.”

Face mottled in rage, Kiora glares at Adelphia beneath her lashes as she curtsies before rushing from the room.

“Mother,” Theon groans, fingers pressed to his temples.

“Don’t ‘Mother’ me!” she snaps, slapping her wine glass onto the table with a loud thunk. “I will not be spoken to in such a way by anyone.”

Theon's shoulders slump and he dutifully nods his head.

“And Theon? If she ever speaks to me that way again…” Adelphia waits for his solemn gaze to meet her steeled one. “I'll put her in the dungeons right alongside her brother. Wife or no wife.”

Theon purses his lips, but says nothing more as he jerks his head in assent.

A double knock on the door blares within the room and Theon answers it, quietly slipping out the door before several palace servants swoop in with heaping bowls and platters of food.

Well trained, the servants barely rustle, let alone clatter as they serve spit roasted pig, smoked fish, herbed vegetables, and warm bread with freshly churned butter. A fae servant attempts to ladle chilled beet soup into my empty bowl but I wave away her attempts. In silence, she removes the bowl and follows the other servant out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“How many lashes did he get?” Adelphia asks, taking a delicate bite of fish from her fork.

“Ten,” I reply.

She chews thoughtfully. “I would've given him twenty.”

I chuckle. “I was tempted to, but decided against it.” Reaching for the bread, I tear off a chunk. “Besides, burns last longer than a whipping."

Adelphia and I share a rare smile, but hers drops all too soon when my sister speaks.

“I would've cut off his balls,” Aurora says around a mouthful of food.

I grimace, readjusting myself in my seat as I spread butter across the warm bread. “That's a bit extreme,” I reply halfheartedly. Jareth may very well deserve it, but there’s something inherently wrong for a male to suggest any punishment that involves mutilating a cock.

Aurora scoffs, wiping the pig fat dripping down her chin with the back of her hand. “Lena wouldn't think so.”

At the mention of Lena, I shoot a glare at Aurora and she winces, an apologetic smile creeping up her cheeks. Neither one of us has mentioned to the other our involvement with Lena’s stunt earlier in the day, or what repercussions would be enacted with so many witnesses. But neither did either of us need to be told that Adelphia wouldn't react well to her children openly defending the foreigner. Of course, I didn’t expect Adelphia to forget, but I also didn't expect Aurora to draw attention to it. My gaze veers to our mother, hopeful she misheard Aurora's slip of the tongue. But judging off her puckered lips and sharpened cheeks, it’s apparent that the name didn't escape her notice.

“Lena,” Adelphia drawls. “Dalenna Nectallius.” Swirling her glass of wine, she leans back in her seat. “I see you two have been making new friends.”

We say nothing.

“Who is she?”

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