Page 52 of Kingdom of Lies

"Indeed," she titters, fluttering her fan. I know she does not have the wit to understand.

I have no idea why I agreed to come here tonight. Already, my skin is crawling at his very presence.

I look at him, my father. Surrounded by his circle of ass-licking advisors, he's the picture of regal authority. I long for all this to burn and hope I am the one that strikes the match.

"Your father seems in high spirits tonight, Karul?" Sylthia says.

"He does," I say through a forced smile.

“Such a powerful elf. When I think about how powerful he is, it makes me go weak at the knees,” she says. Her very presence makes me go weak elsewhere.

“I’m sure it does,” I reply.

“You remind me of your Father, do you know that?” She says.

“Thank you for bringing that thought across my mind,” I grin at her. Her breasts begin to heave at an alarming rate.

“Forgive me, I do get carried away at parties. I do like to dance Karul. Do you like to dance?” she asks with a flutter of her eyelids.

My patience has run thin too quickly this evening, “My dear Sylthia, as much as you would desire me to dance you into the gardens, bend you beneath a statute of the Hedonist, and plow you until you pass out, I really must refrain,” I tell her watching her checks turn a deep pink.

She coughs and catches her breath, “Maybe our paths will cross later?” she says.

“Maybe,” I tell her with my focus firmly on my Father. I barely notice her scuttle away, flicking her fan as she goes.

My eyes are drawn to the monster still.

I watch as he laughs at something one of his lackeys whispers. His eyes flicker over the crowd. My hand clenches at my side, the only outward sign of the storm raging within.

I am Karul, son of an idiot lord and no man's pawn. And I need a drink.

"Another," I command the human servant who tends the bar. A silly-looking fellow with a chin too large for his face. I knock it back in one.

“Another,” I demand. And knock it back further still.

"Your health, Karul," a noble sneers as he passes, his toast dripping with insincerity.

I raise my glass and smile like I have been taught to do.

"To the end of all things," I mutter under my breath.

Perhaps now is the time.

I deserve my revenge for what he has done. He thinks so little of me he wouldn’t notice me creep beneath his feet and set my vision in motion. The pillars of my father's legacy crumbling around his feet.

“Karul, my fellow!” I know the voice. It’s Astor, one of those dickheads you meet at university you hoped would die before you had the chance to bump into them ever again.

“Astor, how goes it?” I ask with no time for how little these elves stay the same, locked in time, just getting fatter and more prosperous.

He pats his belly, “I’d say rather good, wouldn’t you?” he coughs as he laughs, grabbing my hand and forcing me to pat the mound of greed attached to his front.

“When’s it due?” I ask him. Which, of course, he finds hideously funny. I look disgusted as the snot escapes his nose and splashes to the floor.

“Funny as ever, Karul,” he says, “I’ll give you that, always the joker you were.”

The fucking joker?

“You must stop by sometime, but in the meantime, I must mingle, Father’s orders,” I tell him.

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