Page 6 of Omission

Our destruction.

His subjects don’t realize the evil that lurks behind his eyes. This man is a thief, liar, and beyond cruel.

Clearing my throat, I give him a respectful bow of the head. Stay that way until he clears his throat, allowing me to continue now that he’s somewhat appeased by the show of loyalty to his crown. “My King, I’d like to discuss my future with you. That, and my mate.”

“What mate do you speak of?” His voice is low and unaffected, yet it hits me like a punch to the gut. Years ago, I’d felt this unexplainable pain in my chest that none of our mages could find a reason for. It ached for days, leaving me gasping for breath while deep bruising appeared near my lower ribs and stretched to just beneath my right breast. Our female healers tried to find its origin, but then it all disappeared. The deep ache. The discoloration of my flesh. Just gone. “Yours is dead, Anaya. You know this.”

Audible gasps follow that statement as if they didn’t know, but I don’t react to the lies. Instead, I fight back the urge to rub a hand over my aching heart, where the absence of a mate I’ll never meet throbs.

Not that it would gain me an ounce of empathy from these people. If anything, I’d be seen as trying to manipulate through sympathy because women can never be fully trusted. We’re an emotional and argumentative sex—the catalyst and downfall of so many species.

It’s a lie fed to keep us out of power.

Proves just how much men like my father fear losing control.

Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly while embracing the feelings coursing through me. There’s this bone-deep exhaustion, while at the same time, I’d like to burn this castle to the ground. I don’t, though. If anything, I merge the two and punish myself so that my ire doesn’t hurt those who are innocent.

I may not be tall or even have muscles like most of those here, but my powers are more than enough to protect me—but at what cost? If my father knew I could control the element of water, I’d be used in his never-ending quest to rule over all beings. If he knew I possessed healing abilities, I’d become his forced servant to ensure his immortality.

He’d hurt my people to subjugate me.

Two things I can never allow. I’d rather let him think me useless than show my hands.

My mother knew this before her death and made me promise to never show my gifts.

At least, not until I met him. My mate.

He’s dead, Anaya. You’ll never know what it’s like to wake up in his arms or feel completely safe. I’m not trying to look pitiful, but acknowledging this makes my bottom lip tremble. “I understand, Father. It’s a pain that cuts my soul deeply.”

“Then why do you insist?”

“Because I will always love the man—”

“Emotions are a weakness, Anaya. You know this.”

“They’re also the biggest motivator.” The words are out of my mouth before I can bite each back, and he’s angered by them. There’s a harder clenching of his jaw and his aura darkens, forcing many in the room to do as I did and bow their heads. Something he pulls back from quickly.

Those under his doctrine aren’t blind to his true nature; our guards are as corrupt and black-hearted, wanting to eradicate anyone and anything that isn’t of fae blood. They know he’s a violent man, his crimes, but not his dignitaries—the eldest among our kind have been glamoured to believe him just and righteous. He has plenty of dark magic mages to make it so, and it’s something he can’t afford to have undone. His image cannot crumble.

My eyes sweep across the table, and I catch more than a few questionable expressions, especially from my maternal grandfather who sits beside my intended, not understanding what just happened.

Is he truly unaware my mate is dead? That I’m being forced to marry a man I loathe?

A royal guard with greedy aspirations and an empty soul. I’ve seen Brice abuse those of lower rank—men and women who work inside these castle walls. A kick, a slap, and once, he whipped a first-year recruit who asked a question during his orientation.

He’s always made his desire to own me known—a wife he can subjugate and use to rise higher in rank.

“My apologies.” My father stands from his seat, the legs of his high-back, tufted chair scrapping harshly over the all-white flooring. It’s loud against the marble, more than likely leaving a smudge behind that a maid will later clean before his next meal. “This is a personal matter, and I must attend to my daughter’s distress. Please excuse us; I’ll be retiring to my office now. Anaya, please follow me.”

“Yes, my king.” Before the last word has left my lips, every person stands and gives another bow. This one is deeper; they nearly fold themselves in half and completely ignore my scared expression.

Everyone except my brother and my betrothed, who turned their heads in my direction. Their matching amusement causes a shiver of fear to run down my spine; I’m caught between a flight or fight instinct that loosens the tenuous hold on the powers I have.

They flicker inside of me. Become a warm ripple down my limbs until they settle on my spread fingertips. The move is instinctual, and it’s not until the cup in front of Ruben tips over and onto his plate, the water inside ruining his meal, that I force my hands into tight fists. It serves to create the distraction I need as he yells out, calling for a maid to clean the mess.

He’s frustrated while the rest of our guests look his way, including Brice.

No one knows it’s me, but the murmur inside started at once. I’m blamed, not for the action but because of this being a direct result of the king’s displeasure with my outburst.

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