Page 96 of Under the Lion Star

“So, let me get this straight,” I stood, leaning over the table as I balanced on my clenched fists.

Pullam rose, stepping in front of Nima.

“Your sister, my wife, decided to continue digging into that information. Despite my insistence not to.”

Nima opened her mouth but stopped short as I waved my hand to silence her.

“And in doing so, you recruited my sister. My fifteen-year-old sister. Who performed prohibited Elldaran magic in order to get you access. Access to a man’s house that has been actively trying to kill me and went so far as to send assassins into the castle to kill my wife and me as we slept.”

Nima bowed her head, as did Sanna, who started crying quietly.

“Am I understanding this correctly?”

“Yes,” Nima whispered.

“Go get my wife,” I demanded of Orin.

“She isn’t here,” Nima said quietly.

I closed my eyes and swallowed, searching deep within for any thread of calm that I could grip onto before losing my absolute shit in front of the audience in the silent room.

“And where is she?” I forced each word out through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know,” Nima admitted, setting the stack of papers on the table. “She told me to give you these.”

Atlas grabbed the stack of papers, his eyes darting back and forth as he skimmed over them.

“Fuck me,” he growled. “That fucking asshole.”

I glanced over at him as he scrubbed his face with his hands and leaned back in his chair.

“It’s my father,” he sighed. “Gamril and Corrin have been working together to kill you.”

“Sanna,” she could barely manage to look at me. “You begin sorting through those documents. Determine what is useful and what isn’t.”

My sister’s eyes darted to mine, and the hint of excitement that I was including her nearly undid the last of my composure. She grabbed the papers and took them to the small desk along the wall. Her shoulders hunched as she got to work, reading through each document hastily and organizing them into different stacks.

“Atlas, you’ll scour the city with me. We need to determine where Z would have gone.”

“Probably to Gamril’s house,” Pullam mused, glaring at Nima, whose glamour had faded completely.

Blood roared through my ears, and my legs weakened. The man had been instrumental during my parents’ reign. He’d been a part of my life since the day I was born. I never doubted that he was a shit father, but despite Atlas’s despisal of the man, I had considered him an ally.

“Liras. You and Orin go find Gamril and Corrin. I want them alive.”

They both stood and turned to leave when the door creaked open. One of the castle guards stuck his head into the room.

“A courier, your grace,” he waited for my nod, stepping aside to let in a young boy whose eyes darted around nervously.

“My king,” the boy bowed. “I’ve been instructed by Lord Gamril to deliver a message.”

His voice was shaking, and his knees trembled as if he were near collapse.

“Why are you frightened?” Liras pressed.

“H-He told me to deliver it word for word, your grace,” he stammered. “But it seems hardly appropriate language.”

“We’ve heard worse,” Atlas offered. “Speak freely and know that we recognize you are only the messenger.”

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