Page 97 of The Blood Crown

All the lords save for Thero seemed to be following Lord Bellor’s lead out of deference for the male, quiet as he spun the stem of his cut crystal glass between thick fingers, considering.Pretendingto consider.

It was clear this was a power play.

Lord Bellor finally looked up, contempt in his ancient eyes. “Your mother disgraced the crown when she put it on her head.”

Lord Thero, who had been holding his tongue, turned abruptly at the insult. “His mother—is the reason any of us are standing here today, and not fodder for the Dark King’s demon army.”

“What’s left of us you mean,” Bellor spat. “He puts on the crown of our people and suddenly you forget what he is?”

Rage crackled at Aurelia’s fingertips. After everything he’d done for his people—after everything he’d sacrificed—this is how they repaid him?

A chair scraped against the stone as Lord Thero stood. “I know exactlywhohe is,” he answered, towering over the others. “He fought beside me on the bloody fields of Gandria. At the front of the lines when other males were pissing their skins at the dark host fighting against us. I was proud to call him Commander then—and I am proud to call him my King now.”

Lord Bellor’s lips lifted into a snarl as he bared his fangs. “Tell that to my brothers who were slain by his father’s pale riders. Speak it over their graves for all it warms them now.” He spat onto the floor.

“My men and I are at your service, Your Majesty,” Thero offered, his square jaw working as he ignored Lord Bellor seething beside him and stormed from the room.

The other three males remained silent. Whether out of cravenness or contemplation, she couldn’t be sure.

Ven only raised the glass of Red to his lips, taking a healthy swig before he set it back down on the table.

The leash on his control slipped slightly as rage burned behind his eyes.

The flames in each of the hearths guttered simultaneously—as if his anger had sucked the oxygen from the room.

“And do the rest of you refuse your king’s command?” he uttered.

The young lord’s eyes grew wide, his throat bobbing as he seemed to look for the exits—the other lords had the wherewithal to feign composure. But Aurelia could smell the fear on them. Sour and sharp.

“I will serve myrightfulking,” Lord Bellor finally spat, “when he decides to stop sitting at your side like a lapdog.”

Not an outright declaration of insubordination—a coward’s reply.

Violence glittered in his eyes as they slid to Aurelia. “You bring another half-breed abomination with you and call her queen—”

Glass shattered against the stone floor as shadows wreathed the male’s neck.

The fires roared back to life around them, the red-orange flames licking the surrounding walls and staining them black with soot.

Ven had quietly endured insults from these males all evening, but at a single word against her, the leash on his control finally snapped. Tightly contained rage leaked through his gaze as Lord Bellor clawed at his throat, crying out as a trickle of blood and spittle ran down from the corner of his mouth.

“Your tongue will heal,” Ven said with quiet menace. “Consider it a warning not to speak of my claimed again.”

Thin threads of shadow reached for Ven’s dark power—but they were batted away like wisps of smoke as he stood from his seat, offering a hand to Aurelia.

Lord Bellor slumped back into his chair, choking on his own blood as Ven finally released him.

Shadows gathered around them, darkening with his parting words to the other lords.

“It was not a request.”

Chapter 49

Shadows shattered against the black stone floors as Ven released Aurelia.

He turned abruptly toward the flickering light of the hearth, elbows propped against the carved mantle. His fingers threaded behind his neck, the muscles of his back rippling as he dropped his head to the stone.

“The opinion of one male does not determine your worth,” she softly offered.

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