Page 6 of When Kings Fall

He pauses, and I know this is when he becomes the hardest to read. That silence of his, so typical, so infuriating. The fire casts deep shadows under his eyes, making it impossible to tell what he’s really thinking.

Finally, he asks, “Do you agree to this plan?”

I glance at Selene, standing just a little behind him, and something in me shifts. There’s no reason for him to help me. I was discarded, worthless to him. Yet, here he is, offering me a way out, a new life. Something in him has changed, but I can’t quite grasp what it is.

I take a deep breath, the weight of my decision heavy on my shoulders. “I agree.”

“I’ll begin the arrangements,” Diarmuid says, already stepping away from the fire. His phone is in his hand, raised to his ear as he walks off, leaving the warmth of the flames—and me—behind.

The air feels colder without him there, the chill seeping through my coat. I hug myself tighter, suddenly aware of how alone we are now, surrounded by strangers. The silence between Selene and me stretches out, filled only by the crackling of the fire.

“He’s going to choose you, you know,” I say, my voice quiet but firm.

Selene glances at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “I’m not sure if that’s true. He’s still attached to Niamh.”

I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes me. “Attached to Niamh like he’s attached to me. He feels responsible for her, but you’re the one who will be Consort.”

She hesitates, her gaze dropping to the ground. “What if I don’t want to be?”

“Then you’re stupid,” I reply, a little more harshly than I intended. But I mean it. To refuse something like that, something so many of us fought for, would be beyond foolish.

Another silence falls between us. I watch the flames flicker around a large log, most of its shape already reduced to embers. Every now and then, the fire pops, sending sparks spiraling into the night air. Selene looks hauntingly beautiful in the firelight, her features softened, almost ethereal. It’s something I’d never allowed myself to notice before.

But then again, I’d been trying so hard not to see it. To me, Selene and Niamh were never just other women—they were threats. Rivals. I was so focused on winning that I ended up being the first to lose.

Yet despite my best efforts, Diarmuid saw Selene. He saw her in a way he never saw me, and that meant something. Something I’m not sure I want to understand, but it’s there, undeniable.

I pull my gaze away from her, staring into the fire instead. It doesn’t make the truth any easier to swallow.

In another life, in a world where fathers didn’t sell their daughters and cruel men didn’t make commands, maybe Selene and I could have been friends. It’s a thought that lingers as I stand beside her, the firelight casting flickering shadows between us.

“I’m not sorry for what happened,” I say, breaking the silence with a truth that feels heavy on my tongue.

“I didn’t think you would be,” Selene replies, her voice steady, without a trace of judgment.

“I did what I was trained to do,” I continue, my tone as blunt as a blade.

“As expected,” she says, as if she understands, or at least as if she accepts it.

There’s a pause, the words hanging in the cold night air, before I find the courage to say what’s really on my mind. “But…I really do wish the best for you and Niamh. I don’t…I don’t want you to ever understand me. I hope that I always seem cruel to you. I hope that life never teaches you the lessons I’ve learned.”

Selene pauses, her gaze locking onto mine, and in that moment, I have to fight to hold back the tears. It’s the most honest I’ve ever been with anyone, and it leaves me feeling exposed in a way I’m not used to.

“And I hope that your new life doesn’t have any more lessons for you,” she says softly.

I manage a small, sad smile. “That wouldn’t be living, would it?”

Selene nods, a silent understanding passing between us. Slowly, I turn and walk away from the fire, heading toward my tent. The Hands of Kings was a global cult, and I know deep down that all of my troubles won’t magically disappear just because I’m leaving the country. If Diarmuid were to fall from power, enemies would be at my door before I could even blink.

But for now, I lower my arms, lift my chin, and walk tall. I’m no longer just Amira. I’m a Madame in my own right. The weight of that realization settles on my shoulders, but it doesn’t bow me. Instead, it straightens my spine, fuels the fire within me.

This is my life now, and I’ll live it on my terms.

CHAPTER FOUR

Niamh

I SIT OUTSIDE the building, my leg bouncing uncontrollably as I wait. I try to stop it, willing my muscles to calm down, but it’s useless. The movement is involuntary, a tell-tale sign of nerves that I can’t hide. I know what I must look like to anyone passing by—like some strung-out junkie desperately seeking a fix. Especially in this part of town, where every car that drives by is worth more than a small house, and the clothes the people wear cost as much as rent. It’s a playground for the rich, for people who never have to worry about things like this.

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