Page 30 of A Kingdom of Destruction

Roran chose to dress in black on black, from his shirt to his tunic and every accessory. A band of onyx stone wrapped around his finger, and even his eyes seemed to be lined with darkness. He painted a devastating picture.

His mocking grin lit the fire inside of her.

“Well?” Cillian prompted. “Do you have nothing to say?”

She refused to let Cillian get beneath her skin any more than he already had.

“I haven’t heard you apologize once. I understand the need to protect your people, to do whatever it takes, but it doesn’t excuse the way you butchered my brothers and sisters.” She forced her mouth to curl upward in a cruel smile. “May you know that pain as well. May all the horrors of your actions one day be revealed to you, Cillian.”

His lips tightened as he mulled over her words.

“Some might take your statement as a threat against the royal family, Aven. I’d watch what you say, especially with so many curious ears around us,” he put in mildly.

Logically, she should have heeded his warning immediately. Unfortunately for her, with her head light and her emotions spiraling out of control, she did no such thing.

She tried to pull away from him, and Cillian grabbed her tighter, hauling her to his front.

“There’s no pretending for me tonight, as much as you would wish me to,” she seethed. “I can’t pretend to be happy to have my life while my siblings lost theirs. You might wish to celebrate your crushing victory and show off your spoils of war, but you’ll find me unwilling to play along with you.”

She felt more animal than human and had no thought of sparing Cillian’s feelings.

“I’m sorry.” Those words took her by surprise. He stopped mid-dance, her insides still reeling from the motion, and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear that had somehow escaped the intricate updo Nora had pinned in place. “Okay? I truly am sorry for your loss. My father didn’t tell me what he’d done until he returned, and by then it was too late to save them. I didn’t know.”

“You said it wasyourplan.” Aven stilled when he touched her jawline.

“It was. Except for the part about your family. I’d only intended for him to bring one of you back here. Not murder the rest.” His fingers clenched against her waist in a motion she felt all the way through the fabric.

For a moment, she forgot about the way she wanted to hurt him. How she’d like to drag the end of her knife across his alabaster skin and mark him,painfully. Permanently. The nastythoughts eddied out of her head at the way Cillian stared down at her.

This was no smirk, the kind Roran bandied about without thought.

This was concern and care. This was kindness in an unexpected place.

“I am sorry for what you lost. If there were any other way, then I would have found it. I would have done what I could to ensure an alliance with Grimrose without the loss of your family,” Cillian continued.

Aven sucked in a breath.

Dimly, she was aware of eyes on her back. The assessing gazes of the King and Prince. Their intent to make her suffer further.

No matter how genuine the apology felt or sounded, she would not relent the way he wanted her to. She wouldn’t back down or cow in his presence.

Yet she found herself nodding at Cillian.

The rest of the crowd continued to whirl and move around them. They were the stone in the middle of a current, and yet none of the others touched them.

“Come,” Cillian said at last. “My father will want to speak to you. Compose yourself.”

Those words sharpened something inside of her, and Aven had to remind herself to suck in a breath and hold it in her lungs. Her belly turned into intricate knots she had no hope of unraveling.

She gathered her skirt in one hand, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment because she found herself unable to speak. Her body had gone tight and hot and sick in so many places she had no idea what to do with herself. Cillian took hold of her, moving her physically when her legs went stiff.

They turned to the throne together, and Roran’s eyes widened imperceptibly, sharpening the closer she got. He tracked each of her movements and, outside of a slight curling of his fingertips, made no move. Didn’t dare break eye contact.

He looked like he wanted to say something. But what?

What could he possibly have to say, and what did he mean when he looked at her the way he did? And Aven, despite herself, held his eyes, because it felt easier than daring to look at King Donal.

She hated the old man more than his sons, more than his kingdom. Hated him for the magic that had kept her imprisoned and forced her to watch while he maneuvered and humiliated her father, tortured and killed her siblings.

---