Page 102 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

The guards that led us inside gesture for us to sit, but none of us do. Seemingly unaware of the palpable tension in the room, one of the guards opens his mouth as if to voice the offer aloud. All it takes is one icy look from Savell to make him rethink that decision.

Wordlessly, the guards step back into the hallway, pulling the set of double doors closed when they do.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Kheldryn wanders by the windows, fern eyes staring through the glass with her brows furrowed. Gryska sways forward and backward, shifting the bulk of her weight from her heels to her toes. Sidestepping, Savell leans against the back wall, by the door, carefully surveying our surroundings. Seeming unsure of what to do with himself, Ronan looks around the room, lightly tapping his fingers against his thighs.

And though Ceren taught me to be firm in my stance, regardless of my emotions, even I fight the urge to fiddle with my leathers.

The only one who stands deathly still is Asheros. He stays close by my side, and though he’s not looking at me directly, I can feel his eyes on me.

“What?” I ask, without sparing him from my bluntness.

“You’re uncomfortable here,” he says, as if the words taste sour on his tongue.

I glance around the room. “I…”

“Even without the bond, I would know,” he says in my mind. “I know you.” Shifting closer to me, he touches his palm to the small of my back. “You can confide in me. Whenever you need to.”

Nodding, I offer him a small smile. “I know. Truly, I do.”

His brows stitch together. “Then what is it?”

I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. “I thought it would be easier. Coming back here, I mean. I thought I would feel stronger, more sure of myself. But the moment we approached the city gates…” I swallow. “I felt like a younger version of myself—one that loathed herself because she couldn’t excel at anything.”

“Listen to me,” Asheros says aloud now, keeping his voice low enough for only me to hear. He cups my face with both hands. “I will forever despise your mother for making you believe that about yourself. And for every moment my heart beats, I will prove to you that you are the strongest, bravest, most capable individual I know.”

He searches my expression, the ferocity of his words brimming in his crystalline gaze. “You have worked so incredibly hard for everything you’ve achieved. Though it may have taken you longer, though you may have struggled more than your peers, you persevered. You overcame any struggle, any obstacle that stood in your way. There is so much to be said for that, Lymseia. Don’t ever let another person, even me, taint your view of your worth.”

His words strike a chord deep within me, reaching a wound that never fully closed. A wound that, finally, after all these years, has begun to heal.

Emotion rises in my throat, prickling at my eyes. I exhale through parted lips, blinking to keep my tears at bay. Gods, that came on awfully quickly.

But Asheros doesn’t make me feel lesser for it. Instead, his lips curve upward in an awe-filled expression. As if I continue to astound him, in the best of ways.

Gods above, I don’t know what I did to deserve this male, but I would do it all over again. No matter the pain or discomfort I’d have to endure.

Footsteps sound in the corridor, echoing on stone floors.

“It’s about damn time,” Ronan grunts.

Taking a deep breath, I clear my mind and hone my focus. If there’s one thing I’m not going to do when my mother arrives, it’s allow her to see how much of an effect she still has on me.

Ceren believed in me.

Asheros believes in me.

And damn it all, I’m going to believe in myself, too.

When the double doors open, revealing the face that looks so much like mine, I hold my head high.

The moment she steps into the room, my mother’s regal aura demands respect. That, and the four guards lined at her back. Her tan pointed face maintains an even, yet calm expression, gray eyes moving slowly to each of us. The smooth blue-black hair we share falls down her back though pieces of it have been pulled away from her face and secured to the back of her head, revealing the points of her ears. She holds her hands in front of her waist, her arms bent at an effortlessly elegant angle.

At her side is a face I’ve longed to see.

Though she stands with the grace of our mother, Vestella’s appearance takes after our father. She shares his ash brown hair, kind face, and cobalt eyes. Her hair’s been styled in the same way as my mother’s, though hers has more life to it.

When we lock eyes, it takes nearly all my strength to stop myself from crossing the room to hug her. My older sister doesn’t hold back, and despite my mother’s sideways glance, she throws her arms around me.

“Gods above, Lymseia,” she breathes into my shoulder. “It’s so good to see you. We’ve been so worried.”

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