Page 231 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

I start to lose my battle with my anger, and my cool mask drops. “Why should I fight with you? You are a killer, and you kept me as a slave for most of my life.”

He smiles as he senses my growing frustration. “I have the numbers and the experience that will help you win a battle.”Pushing away from the desk, he walks around to the other side, perching on the edge. It’s a small move, but it puts us much closer together, and he’s watching me closely to see what I’ll do next, to see if I’ll move away. I don’t. Smiling in a way that makes a chill go down my spine, he nods his head as if this confirms something. “And when this is all over, I will give you a throne to sit on.” Lowering his voice, he leans forward. “A true queen, just like you always should have been.”

If he tried to appeal to my softer side to help protect the innocent and offer a safe haven to the weak, then I might have entertained discussions with him. The people don’t deserve to suffer because their king and I don’t see eye to eye, but he never even thought to consider that as an option. The populace is so far down in his consideration, simply collateral damage as far as he’s concerned, that he didn’t even think to suggest it. Instead, he jumped straight to offering me what he would want, a position of power. He really doesn’t know me at all. Disgust fills me. The people will never be safe while having a king like him, war or not.

I’ve had enough of the pretences. Striding forward until there are only a couple of inches separating us, I snarl in his face. “I could never sit on a throne next to my mother’s murderer.”

The king doesn’t react how I expected. Sighing like I’ve disappointed him, he makes a gesture with his hand that I don’t understand, but I can see excitement in his eyes. “I thought you might say that, which is why I brought collateral.”

A scuffling noise has me spinning to the wall of maps behind me, only it shimmers, and I curse as a bound form is shoved into the room by two armed guards. Samson jumps in front of me in a protective stance, his hands glowing as the male falls to the ground, but his eyes are on the guards. The king gestures again with his hands, and the guards disappear through the hidden doorway, the illusion shimmering back into place. When it’s notbeing used, or I’m not touching the magic, I can’t detect it, a frustrating aspect of my gift.

The man on the floor groans and rolls over, allowing me to see his face for the first time. “Jacob!” Horror and fury surge through me as I run to his side, kneeling down to untie his hands and remove the gag in his mouth. “What have you done to him?” I demand, my hands shaking with my anger as I see the welts and wounds on his skin. I gesture for Samson, a sense of understanding hitting me—this was the reason I felt like I needed to bring the healing mage with me. The mage is at my side in an instant, laying his hands on the prince and muttering low words under his breath. Jacob’s eyes start to clear and lock on me with recognition.

“Clarissa, you came back.” I barely recognise his voice, his words broken and his lips chapped, but I place my hand on his cheek and smile as I fight back tears.

“Of course. You’re safe now,” I promise, because I know one thing—there is no way I’m leaving here without him.

“How touching,” the king sneers, crossing his arms as me looks down at us. Leaving the prince in Samson’s capable hands, I stand and face the king, wanting to take his attention off Jacob. I don’t know how long it takes to heal with magic, but I need to give him as much time as possible. I have the feeling we may be leaving in a rush.

The king seems only too happy to ignore his injured son, keeping his beady eyes on me. “I thought it only right that my son be here for this particular story, seeing as it affects both of you. You are brother and sister, after all.”

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut at his confirmation. As soon as I discovered the queen was my mother, I’d known it was a possibility, but hearing it out loud is something different altogether. What does that mean about the other princes then, and who is Jacob’s father? He shares the king’s tan skin andgolden hair, so I’d never suspected he was anything other than his son.

“But I thought…” Jacob starts, his voice weak. Opening my eyes, I glance over at my brother as he struggles to sit up, but Samson puts a gentle hand on his chest, speaking to him in a low voice.My brother…Even the thought feels foreign to me. I’ve gone all my known life without a family, then in a few short months, I’ve discovered who my mother was, only to learn she was killed in front of me, and then learned I have an aunt and a brother. All the while, I created my own family, believing I didn’t need one of blood.

The king pushes up from the desk and walks around to the wall of books behind it, reaching for a large tome. With a frown, I watch him, wondering why he’s getting books down when his son is making pained noises on the floor, but as he moves to the side, I realise why. What I thought was a book was actually fake, hiding a compartment with a bottle of what looks like whiskey. Pulling out two glasses, he pours the strong-smelling liquid into them and pushes one towards me. I shake my head and he just laughs, shrugging before sipping from his glass and smacking his lips.

“I was married before I met your mother, but she was barren,” he explains, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Rhydian’s and Michael’s mothers were from the whore house, but obviously, it was made to look like she carried both of them. It wouldn’t do for the queen not to function like a woman should.”

Rage fills me at the casual way he dismisses this. Those poor women. Not only did he flaunt the fact that the past queen was unable to bear a child by sleeping with other women and getting them pregnant, but he then ripped those babies from them.

Either ignorant of my anger or uncaring, the king continues, staring into his glass. “I met your mother years before either ofyou were born. She liked to rebel and explore, and I used to leave the castle to…well, that doesn’t matter.” A grin curves his lips, and I shudder at the thought of all the disgusting things he might have been up to. His eyes suddenly flick up from his glass to me. “We had an affair.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I knew it must have happened at some point, I knew about the birds and the bees, however, to hear that your mother did that to your father, especially with someone like the king…

“I knew she loved that half-elf,but she loved me too. She couldn’t admit it, but she couldn’t stay away,” the king says, madness in his eyes. “When she fell pregnant with Jacob, we made it look like my previous wife died in childbirth. I took Jacob, but your mother ran away. She was scared, and she returned tohim.” He slams his glass down onto the desk, and it shatters, sending shards and whisky across the room. His hand is bleeding, but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes blazing with disgust. “I don’t take kindly to people taking what’s mine,” he grinds out, talking about my mother as if she’s a possession rather than a person with wants and free will.

All of a sudden, as if a switch has been flipped, he straightens, his eyes becoming cool and calculating as he glances over at his son. Seeing the mess on his desk, he tuts and opens a drawer, pulls out a cloth, and starts cleaning the surface, brushing the glass into the open drawer. “Then I heard she was pregnant with you.” He looks at me, his tone conversational as if he isn’t discussing the events that led up to our separation. “She and that half-elfmateof hers went on the run with you, never staying in one place for long.” Pausing, the king puts the cloth away, and I get a feeling of trepidation as I sense what’s coming next. Closing the drawer, the king smiles. “But she couldn’t run forever.”

His cruel eyes lock onto mine, and I see true evil staring back at me. “Catching her was the best day of my life. Killing her mate and making her watch as I had your memories wiped and madeyou a slave…” I’m vaguely aware of Jacob making distressed noises, but I don’t know if that’s due to his injuries or because of what’s being said. However, I’m so focused on the king and the anger threatening to boil over that all of my concentration goes to not pulling the dagger from my thigh sheath and slamming it into the king’s chest. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes as I try to calm my racing thoughts.

My mother left her baby with the king and escaped. How could she have left Jacob when she knew what the king was like?Perhaps it was her only option, maybe she was going to go back for him?I wonder, my thoughts a whirlwind in my mind. Would I have done the same in her position? Could I have left my baby behind? Then she fell pregnant with me with her mate, my father, and they went on the run. Was I the reason she never went back for Jacob? In the end, though, none of it mattered, because he caught us. Pain slices through me as a part of my heart shatters for the father I never knew. The idea that he was cut down while trying to protect us brings a tear to my eye, but I won’t shed them here, not in front of the king. He doesn’t deserve to see my pain.

Feeling more in control, I open my eyes and see the king is watching me closely. “After you were dealt with, I had her memories wiped and made her mine.” The last word is said with a growl and full of possessiveness. With sudden comprehension, I understand his motives.If he couldn’t have her, no one could. Is that why he killed her in the end? Was she remembering?The thoughts strike me like a bolt of lightning, the answer suddenly important.

“Memory wipes are tricky things, as some strong memories stick, like love for a child.” The king grins, he knows he’s making me angry. In fact, he’s choosing his words carefully, trying to inflict as much pain as possible. Balling my hands into fists, I grip them so tightly, my nails bite into my palms, breaking theskin, but the sting helps release some of the tension building in my body. Perhaps I was right, she might not have known I was her child, but she remembered she had a child, which could be why she felt so familiar when we met in the courtyard.

“Or,” the king calls, “for example, she knew I killed her mate. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get rid of that memory.” Although he’s obviously trying to goad me, I hear the anger in his voice that he wasn’t able to be the only male in my mother’s mind. He couldn’t take away a goddess blessed bond.

“That’s why you built the courtyard,” Jacob rasps, sitting upright with the help of Samson as he frowns at his father. “I always thought it was a place for her to mourn her first husband, but you were rubbing it in that you killed her mate.” Shaking his head, Jacob stares at his father as if he’s truly seeing him for the first time.

“What can I say?” his father replies, spreading his arms wide as if he was admitting to some small faux pas and not all the evil he just confessed to. “I’m a jealous man.”

Jacob shakes his head, his whole body trembling as he leans against Samson. “I always thought that…” He trails off, like whatever he was about to say slipped from his mind. “I always thought the old queen was my mother… Why-why can’t I say her name, either of their names?” Jacob demands, his voice growing stronger with his anger, his face contorted with grief, confusion, and frustration. “Why did you let me believe she was my mother when my real mother was alive and in front of me the whole time?”

“Magic. We needed the kingdom to forget some of the events leading up to our wedding. Names are important for a sense of identity, without them, people are easier to control,” the king explains with a shrug, like this whole conversation is boring him. “My previous wife was collateral. Most of the citizens of Arhaven won’t even remember that I had a previous wife.”

“A spell like that…it breaks the code,” Samson murmurs next to Jacob, shaking his head as he looks up at me with wide eyes. He seems like he doesn’t want to say anything but can’t stop himself. “A spell that large, that strong, would have required several of the high mages.”

A spiteful laugh from the other side of the room brings our attention back to the king. He raises the discarded glass of whiskey and examines the liquid within before taking a drink. “The beauty of that spell was even the caster doesn’t remember casting it. Only those protected against memory spells kept their recollections of the events leading up to me taking your mother as my wife.”

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