Page 87 of The Blood Crown

Rubbing sweaty palms against her pants, she gazed into the flickering amber and ochre of the flames.

She wasn’t ready to ask the library the true question that had formed in her mind. The one that had hounded her since her magick had finally come to the surface—only to be something wholly unexpected.

So instead, she closed her eyes—quieting the small noises of the Allokin librarians and the Blood Folk that sat at the desks nearby and browsed the stacks.

Blowing out a breath, she tried to focus.

She spoke the question into her mind, wondering if it would be enough—wonderinghowthe library would even know what she’d asked.

Two dull thuds hit the low table.

A stack of worn leather books sat in front of her as she cracked her eyes open.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Chapter 43

Ven leaned over the map, palms braced on either side of the swath of territory that had once been part of the Blood Kingdom.

Now, it belonged to the in-between.

The space had been reclaimed by ancient creatures during the thousands of years that the kingdoms had been divided. A dangerous place, until recently, when magick began to die out and the old beasts along with it. But after what they’d encountered on their journey back to Ravenstone—it was safe to say some of those long-dead creatures were not so dead after all.

“It’s time, brother,” Karro said, arms crossed over his chest. “If we are courting war—we need to rally the kingdom, confirm our alliances. And after our last visit to Eisenea, we need to approach the Allokin with a show of strength. They may very well refuse aid to the Wraith Commander—but it will be much harder to refuse the Blood King.”

Nira and Seth's eyes were already on him when he looked up.

So they'd already discussed it. Already agreed.

The Blood King.

A title he’d discarded long ago.

After his mother died, he had no desire for her throne or the crown of his grandsire—because it only reminded him of all the losses his people had sustained. Histruepeople.

"And the other crown that awaits me?" he asked.

Seth stepped forward from the shadows. "None of us have the luxury of looking that far into the future—not even me."

Ven turned to face his oldest friend. His blood. His brother. “Not even going to put up a fight for the throne?”

Karro gave him a once over, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “I’ll gladly kick your ass again on the Ledge if you need to burn off some energy—but it looked to me like Ari already did that.” His boisterous rumble of laughter filled the chamber, echoing through the space.

Karro had always been the loudest in the room. Always seemed perfectly content with the attention—and there had always been plenty of it.

There were countless tales of his bravery and even more of his reckless stupidity in the name of martyrdom on the battlefield, and Karro was happy to recount them all. But he often wondered if Karro's ability to command a room’s attention had been a natural gift—or a mantle his brother had taken up to shield him from the wary looks of their people.

“You are well-loved. Respected,” Seth offered.

“And anyone who has anything to say about it will have to answer to us,” Nira added. The warning snarl to her twin’s quiet menace.

The suspicious glances had tapered off for a time after he’d arrived at Ravenstone. A lanky, scrawny child didn’t pose much of a threat to anyone—but now, even after all this time, he wondered if his mother’s people still feared him.

And who was he to blame them?

He feared himself. That one day, the darker side of his power, his blood, would manifest. Maybe it already had—not as a torrent of hateful magick, but as a trickle. So small, that he barely felt when pieces of his soul were slowly whittled away, until one day it would be too late, and there would be nothing of his mother’s blood left in him.

“I will not be a tyrant.” Bitterness cut through the words, even though he hadn’t intended it. But they understood what he’d left unspoken.

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